When Did They Start Carving Crazy Horse
You know, we all have those burning questions. The ones that pop into your head at the most random times. Like, why do socks disappear in the laundry? Or, what exactly is the deal with airplane peanuts?
But then there are the truly monumental mysteries. The ones that make you pause, scratch your head, and wonder, "When did they start carving Crazy Horse?"
Now, I know what you're thinking. "Isn't that, like, a really famous mountain carving?" And yes, my friend, it is. It's a colossal, jaw-dropping, "wow, that's a lot of rock" kind of carving.
But when did the idea even begin? Was there a specific Tuesday afternoon when a sculptor, fueled by lukewarm coffee and a sudden vision, declared, "You know what this mountain needs? A giant Native American hero!"?
It feels like it just… appeared. Like it was always there, waiting to be uncovered. You see pictures of it, and it looks so ancient, so eternal. You'd almost expect to find a little sign at the base that says, "Carved by the Gods, circa whenever they felt like it."
But that's the thing, isn't it? It's not ancient. It's not carved by deities. It's a modern-day marvel, a testament to human grit and a whole lotta dynamite.
And that's where my unpopular opinion comes in. I have a sneaking suspicion that the carving of Crazy Horse didn't start with a grand, meticulously planned artistic endeavor. Nope.
My theory? It started with a joke. Or maybe a dare. Or perhaps a deeply competitive game of "I bet I can carve a bigger nose than you."
Imagine this: a group of very determined folks, maybe sitting around a campfire, the wind whistling through the South Dakota plains. Someone points to the mountain. "That big ol' lump of rock," they say, gesturing with a half-eaten buffalo jerky stick. "Bet we could make something out of that."
And then, someone else, perhaps a little too much fermented berry juice in their system, pipes up, "Yeah? Like what? A giant… horse head? No, wait. A giant warrior on a horse! Like… Crazy Horse!"
And the idea just… stuck. Like a stubborn burr on a saddle blanket.
Now, I'm not saying Korczak Ziolkowski wasn't a brilliant artist and visionary. He totally was. The man had a vision, and he dedicated his life to it. That's undeniably heroic.
But I like to think there was a moment, however brief, where the initial spark was less "sacred monument" and more "hey, wouldn't it be wild if..."
"This mountain is huge! We need something equally huge to stare at!"
It's a thought process that's oddly relatable, right? We've all been there. You see a blank canvas, a big chunk of wood, or even just a really smooth patch of mud, and a ridiculous idea takes root.
And then, before you know it, you're elbow-deep in… well, whatever it is you're working with, trying to make that silly idea a reality.
The difference, of course, is that Crazy Horse isn't made of mud. It's made of granite. A LOT of granite. And it's taken decades. Generations, even.
So, when did they start carving Crazy Horse? Officially, the work began in 1948. That's when Chief Henry Standing Bear asked Korczak Ziolkowski to create a memorial to the Native American people. A monumental task, indeed.
But in my heart of hearts, I picture that earlier, sillier origin. The campfire. The dare. The slightly unhinged brainstorming session that somehow, against all odds, blossomed into one of the most ambitious and awe-inspiring sculptures on Earth.
It's a testament to dreams, big and small. And maybe, just maybe, it started with a laugh and a wild idea. And isn't that just wonderfully, endearingly human?
So next time you see that magnificent carving, take a moment. Smile. And maybe, just maybe, imagine a world where the first thought was, "You know what would be hilarious on that mountain? A gigantic, stoic warrior."
Because sometimes, the most extraordinary things start with the most ordinary, and slightly absurd, of ideas.