Deborah Sengl's sculpture Schafen und Wölfen [Loup-Mouton-Prêtre Von], alongside a poem written in responce to the art piece by Төгөлдөр
The statue stood in a white room. At first glance, it looked like a humble shepherd or a holy man at prayer.
Hands folded.
Robe’s clean.
As if he is praying his soul out.
Head lifted toward a silent sky.
People stepped closer.
They always do.
They seek comfort.
They desire holy.
Once their gaze lay upon a priests head. They shook their head in an awe. It was not a human, nor a devil. It is a sheep in first glance. But upon further inspection it is not sheep, but a wolf in sheep skin.
The comfort once they seek cracks when they fully circled to the side. The soft shape of a sheep shifted into wolf.
A muzzle stretched.
Teeth beared.
A wolf stared upward, not in awe, but in scorn. The lips were tight. The eyes burned. It was not asking heaven for mercy. It was daring heaven to look away.
The wool was wrong too.
It was not all sheep.
It clung like a costume left out in rain.
The texture blurred. Some strands were fleece.
Some hinted at harsher fur.
The nose almost gentle yet daring.
Almost.
A near‑sheep face pulled over hunger that would not repent even after devouring the everything holy.
Visitors felt a chill.
Some even crossed themselves.
Some frowned.
Some whispered the verse: Beware of false prophets.
A few turned to leave.
One young man stayed.
He had once trusted women in such dress.
One had told him his pain was his fault.
He felt anger rise again, hot and clean.
Yet the statue did not crush him.
It showed what he had not ever seen.
It blatantly mocks him, saying, “You were blind. The mask was real. The harm was real. Your voice is real, too. Everything except her love for you was real. But you had no eyes to see the truth. Just like you shall not know me from afar. You never knew her.”
A boy stared long.
He asked himself, Is this evil?
Is she evil?
The inner voice said, It is a warning.
She is scorning.
He asked, Does she see me now?
Do I see her now?
Do I even see myself now?
He paused, then finally nodded.
The wolf’s gaze kept its hard line into the ceiling.
Proud.
Accusing.
Mocking.
But the folded hands were still human hands. That detail held a strange weight. It meant choice. It meant this shape was not fate alone. A person had joined the hunger to the love. A person could also refuse.
The room felt different after that.
The statue no longer owned the space.
I did.
The young man touched his own hands gently, then wolf head.
The hands that once held her so caring, now rough as a wolf's teeth.
Then he whispered, I still believe in what is true.
Not in the mask.
Not in the teeth.
Nothing but myself.
He stepped back and looked once more. [...]
Naming the lie gave strength.
The verse echoed again in his mind.
Not a threat this time.
A lantern.
Beware.
Be awake.
Be brave.
He walked on, lighter, carrying a quiet promise — To guard his heart.
To give his heart to only one who deserves.
To be wool without deceit.
To be flame without devouring.
Now he is ready.
He is a lover.
He is a fighter.
Now he can see the reality.
Behind the light and shadow lies the lie and truth.
Behind him, the statue stayed still.
Its anger could not follow.
But its lesson can.
Brought to life in 2008 by Deborah Sengl, Loup-Mouton-Prêtre (in English, Wolf-Sheep-Priest) was the star of Sengl's art collection, Von Schafen und Wölfen (Of Sheep and Wolves). It serves as a commentary on the state of Christianity and the institution of the Church, pulling on the biblical image of Christ, and therefore His priests, as shepherds and leaders of their flock. Instead of providing safety and comfort for the flock, Sengl's priest devours them-- a literal 'wolf in sheep's clothing', who wears not just the wool of a sheep, but the vestments of a shepherd. The sculpture utilizes plastic and textiles for the body and clothing of the priest, but the disfigured wolf/sheep head is made of wax and the taxidermied head of an actual sheep, bringing the idea of manipulation into the very art itself as the head is manipulated through wax into something it previously was not.
In this post, Loup-Mouton-Prêtre is displayed alongside a poem written in response to the piece by an art reviewer on the Medium website who goes by Төгөлдөр.
dailybridgerton
turnnoffyourmind
gummygunk
baratheonpilled
stormborns
snowghoul
yousharknotpass
