Poem by the Dutch writer Nachoem M. Wijnberg

THE RACKET IN RODIN’S STUDIO

His apprentices’ sole task is making hands

and placing them in boxes, ordered as to type,

while he himself kneads the remaining clay bodies

attaching to them the hands already prepared.

He prises apertures open and moistens the clay

with spit from his mouth, to save himself some time.

He moves between the heaps of clay and the models

kneeling on sheets while the apprentices watch him

and hold onto hands that grip and let go.