Bamboo

Sometimes inspiration arrives without asking permission, like a sudden shock to the eye.

I was in Paris, at the Centre Pompidou. I was walking into the museum café when I saw her.

She was slender, delicate like Japanese porcelain. Young, with Asian features, wrapped in a light dress that moved softly down to her feet, small feet inside sandals.

But what struck me was the large straw hat, oversized, resting above that fragile figure.

In that instant, I did not think of a sculpture. I felt something stop, and at the same time begin to move.

I fell in love with that presence.

This is how Bamboo was born.