Name: Bob Hunt

Email: babbalew@comcast.net
Phone: 266-1036

About me: My hobby, rather, my passion, is woodturning. I started 10 years ago on a whim and became totally consumed with all things relating to putting a piece of wood on a lathe, shaping and hollowing it to make something useful.

About my Square: I am not an artist, but have recently focused on stretching my work towards the artistic realm. This piece took several weeks of thought to plan out. It consists of the square provided, black paint, a maple bowl turned thin and pierced and gold leafed, and a small cardinal I purchased.

The title, "Not from where I sit," is meant to make the viewer think from the inside of the piece. The outside is an obvious reference to the gilded cage, which is nothing new. Beautiful to look at, beautiful bird inside, covered with 23 carat gold leaf. But, put yourself inside. You see the outside world though the "prison bars", freedom, smiles and laughter. Behind you is the darkness of despair, the knowledge that your life will never get any better. You think, "What right do they have to look at me, talk about my beauty and hang me on a pole for their viewing pleasure? Can't they see what this is like for me?"

Please read the poem below. I had not read the poem until after I made this piece.

Why the Caged Bird Sings by Maya Angelou

A free bird leaps on the back of the wind and floats downstream till the current ends and dips his wing in the orange suns rays and dares to claim the sky.

But a bird that stalks down his narrow cage can seldom see through his bars of rage his wings are clipped and his feet are tied so he opens his throat to sing.

The caged bird sings with a fearful trill of things unknown but longed for still and his tune is heard on the distant hill for the caged bird sings of freedom.

The free bird thinks of another breeze and the trade winds soft through the sighing trees and the fat worms waiting on a dawn-bright lawn and he names the sky his own.

But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream his wings are clipped and his feet are tied so he opens his throat to sing.

The caged bird sings with a fearful trill of things unknown but longed for still and his tune is heard on the distant hill for the caged bird sings of freedom.