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I have a charming dumpling of a Welsh Mountain pony who I named Munnings (after Sir Alfred, who painted many ponies). He is the world’s best driving pony and knows all the tricks of his trade and has a very high opinion of himself. He is now 27 years of age, although one would never know it. He loves to rub his 11.2 hands high tubby little body on gates and fences, giving it his all, and by so doing he can destroy an expensive winter blanket (let alone the fence) in a matter of minutes. I had the idea of creating a simple shape for a carving in alabaster or marble, that of Munnings scratching himself against a solid rock wall, as an imaginary pony in the Victorian era might do after a day of hard work, but that never came about, so I used this idea for a bronze instead.
Day's End
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