It's usually only when an artist (painter, musician, actor, writer) does something distasteful that we make the effort to separate the artist from his work. The art must have came from the muse, the great beyond, belonging to the world and let's not credit the monster behind it, or at the very least, let's not give him back his art. Odd that this is when the artist is free.
The artist in Silvina Ocampo's "Sheets of Earth" is a gardener. He does not have a fall from grace and is thus consumed by his work. Literally. The struggle is weak, more acceptance really. Likewise, those around him seem to not put in any effort to help.
It's an interesting tale with the air of a parable.
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