Art Break: Nic Fiddian-Green, The Horse "Sculpturer"

When we first moved to Smallville, we were invited to attend the Carolina Cup, a steeplechase event that happens every year. So, we went; I'd never been to any kind of horse race before so i was intrigued, and Carlos had grown up with horses so i figured he'd be a good guide for me.
Our friends had a spot near the paddock where the horses would come out before the races and I loved the way these magnificent animals moved as they paraded around for all to see. Such grace and yet such power.
Then they were taken up to the track for the races and the races were amazing; such speed, and the way the horses leaped over the barriers with ease.
After each race, the horses would return to the paddock, and these once graceful animals were sagging and drenched with sweat and just looked beaten. Carlos told me that, many times, they cough up blood from their lungs because they really aren't made to run that fast and jump that high, with a tiny man on their backs. I sort of lost interest in the races because, to me, it destroyed the beauty of the animal.
Nic Fiddian-Green understands the beauty of the animal and has become quite the sculptor of horses....bringing their grace and strength and sheer size to the most unusual spaces.

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The Cup

Yesterday was the Carolina Cup, the premiere steeplechase event, held here in Smallville every March.

'The Cup,' as it is called, though we also host the Colonial Cup in November, attracts folks from all over. Horse people. People who look like horses. College kids, the girls in spring dresses and heels, the boys in pastels, bow-ties, khakis and flip-flops.Socialites and big wigs, hicks and hillbillys.

It's a melee out there; people come to see the races; to see the horses; to schmooze; to see and be seen; to drink til they drop. It's a Southern thang, baby.

Carlos and I went the first year we lived in Smallville. And it was fun; we were with a large group of people, tailgating and BBQing and drinking and generally enjoying the day. We were very close to the paddock where they brought the horses out before each race so it was nice to see these gorgeous animals up close. Not so nice was seeing them after the race, when they are dripping with sweat and gasping for air.

Carlos used to ride dressage--a way of riding a horse through a series of standardized movements to show a horse's natural athleticism--when he was a wee lad in Mexico. So he knows horses; and he is not at all fond of steeplechase events or even standard horse racing, because of the strain it puts on these magnificent creatures. They can maim themselves in a fall; they bleed from their lungs because of the length, speed, and jumps they make. All for the enjoyment of men...and women, and drunk college students.

So, we haven't gone in the last couple of years.

But this year, before the races even started, the rains came, and turned the event into a mud circus; people cowering under tents to stay dry, and walking through the mud to get back to their cars and go home. Riders loved the mud because if they fell it was a softer landing; horses hate the mud because it is difficult to gain traction and jump in soggy grass.

Carlos wore a smug grin, knowing that there wouldn't be many races, and not so many horses put through the ringer.

Still, it's a big deal here in Smallvile, and quite a spectacle. The pictures are from our first--and only--Cup.