![Transcription Center logo](/themes/custom/tc_theme/assets/image/logo.png)
This transcription has been completed. Contact us with corrections.
I In 1962 my wife and I were invited to spend the summer in Italy in the house of a sculptor friend. She assured me that [[strikethrough]] nearby [[/strikethrough]] near her place is a good foundry, and I decided to accept her invitation. It was anyway an old dream of mine to visit Italy. I was hoping to see this blessed country, to make acquaintance with its warm people, and make a pilgrimage to the incredibly rich Museums. I remember that we arrived on a [[strikethrough]] Saturday [[/strikethrough]] beautiful afternoon in Caorle. After having taken a rest [[strikethrough]] on Sunday [[/strikethrough]], I went to see the foundry on Monday morning. That was the beginning of the end. For the six weeks which I spent in Italy I almost [[strikethrough]] went nowhere [[/strikethrough]] did not go anywhere else than from Caorle to the foundry and from the foundry to Caorle. Everything inspired me to make sculpture — Alba, our housekeeper kneeling in a church, a dinner at a fish restaurant in Viareggio, a scene at the beach or a chapel in the mountains; everything was for me a source of inspiration. I was