Recalls of extraordinary vividness evoke the ancestral memory of our terrestrial vicissitudes. David Booker's work keep the primitives fascination. The forms, even in their expressive originality, refer to archetypal models. The compositive essentiality join the synthesis of the volumes. The structural solidity circumscribe and restrain the reckless alternation of plastic excitement and empty space.
Life is to carve.
From marks of digged up forms, the effort to live comes up. Minutes, minimun fragments of material scattered around, so many around him, give the idea of undefined time. Each sound of sculpting runs after the eco of the preceding one. All of a sudden silence. The head reclined.