The portrait of Herbert is a pretext to show the truth about the human and the artist, the relationship of the internal and external world. In some extraordinary mystery occurs the act of creation – one is a filter, who processes the encountered world through their inner self, their thought, and finally their senses. I have a feeling expressed in this sculpture that there is a universal quality in art that stands above its various branches. This multitude of different arts, most often having one source in human wonder, is something extraordinary. It is a miracle to me. One could say that I "retaliate" in this sculpture about poetry, for Herbert's poems, especially for the one in which he expressed the thought about the sensual nature of sculpture:
Touch
(...)
then comes the certain touch,
restores stillness to things,
over the lie of the ears,
eyes' din,
ten fingers lay a dam.
distrust, sturdy and untrue,
arranges fingers in the world's wound,
and separates thing from seeming
o you most true you only
can speak love,
you only can console me,
as we are both blind, deaf.
– at the verge of truth touch grows
