There is something magical about the feeling of a new pencil sitting within your hand. To me, they are symbolic of the creative process.
The image above was inspired by the text from a scene from Terrence McNally’s play Master Class, which follows opera singer Maria Callas as she gives a master class at Julliard. The text from that scene can be found below.
Maria: At the conservatory Madame de Hidalgo never once had to ask me if I had a pencil. And this was during the war, when a pencil wasn’t something you just picked up at the five and ten. Oh no, no, no, no. A pencil meant something. It was a choice over something else. You either had a pencil or an orange. I always had a pencil. I never had an orange. And I love oranges. I knew one day I would have all the oranges I could want, but that didn’t make the wanting them any less.
Have you ever been hungry?
Soprano: Not like that.
Maria: It’s. It’s something you remember. Always. In some part of you.
3 thoughts on “Never an Orange”
how very bizarre, here I am reading about pencils and oranges, and around me somebody is eating an orange!
And were you holding a pencil at the time? 😉 Thanks for stopping by!
no pencil, only a mouse