MIHAIL 1976-1998

CAST THE SLEEPING ELEPHANT

Mihail’s Journal

The Artist’s Studio, New York, 1976

For over two years I had been preoccupied with an idea to cast the world; making molds of the
continents over a 14 inch scale model. I had already cast a few details: sand in the Sahara desert;
grass in Alsace, France; and elements from the streets of New York. Wasn’t it time to cast
something really big - maybe an elephant?

It was rather late at night. Seated on the blue wooden bench at the far side of our eighth floor loft
Lilda was reading a book.

...sleeping elephant, cast-a-sleeping-elephant...cast THE sleeping elephant. The words rang loud
in my mind. That was it. I would cast an elephant. I-will-cast-an-elephant! I will cast the sleeping
elephant and cast him in Africa.

The Concept

The first drawing on a cave wall was the symbolic act of possessing Nature. The artist calls this
The First Contract. This contract developed and surpassed its symbolic characteristics. Man
having thus proclaimed himself the center of Nature, created laws which benefit his species first
and only. In casting the elephant, the artist takes the image off the wall bringing it back to
Nature, refusing to possess it, having understood that man is only another species. This act, like
the first, is symbolic, addressing the human consciousness, which is capable of changing its
values. Long ago man decided that it was logical to dominate nature; now man knows that it is
more logical not to.

The Artist’s Idea for a Contract

with the Elephant

The Elephant (represented by a zoologist, art critic, writer and legal adviser) agrees:
• To receive the proceeds from the sale of his statue.
• •To use said proceeds for his benefit and thatof other animal species.

The Artist man agrees:

•To cast the sleeping elephant.
•To arrange for the financing of the operation.
•To create the sculpture model.

At this point I needed an attorney to draw up a real contract. It was not easy for Peter D. Oram to
understand my artist presentation. ”What are you talking about?”, he would repeatedly ask in
desperation. But eight months later, by the end of 1978, Peter had structured a trust agreement
between myself and a representative group of nine trustees for the elephant*, a wonderful
document, and CAST THE SLEEPING ELEPHANT TRUST became a reality. The Frenchman
Nicolas Ducrot, book publisher and romantic adventurer, was elected Chairman of the Board.
The other signatories were: Iain Douglas Hamilton, Rene Berger, Lee Ch. Nehrt, Franz Muheim,
Peter Ruof, Jeanette Bonnier, Pierre Rouve, Thedor Ahrenberg, The Honorable M. J. Oguto,
Minister of Tourism and Wildlife of the Republic of Kenya and Mihail.

Cast the Sleeping Elephant

An Introduction to the Project and the
Not For Profit Trust.

Cast the Sleeping Elephant Project was conceived by the sculptor Mihail in 1976 as a response to
environmental concerns of great and long-standing interest to the artist but still only nascent in
the global community. Cast the Sleeping Elephant Project hinged upon a philosophical
reinterpretation of man’s dominance over nature, natural resources and other species. In order to
recognize and essentially to dismiss a method of thought and action, which through the course of
time and the progress of history had resulted in the devastation of countless natural habitats,
Mihail enacted a symbolic truce between man and nature: the casting of a wild bull elephant in
the Kenyan highlands. This act was to serve as a moniker to the Project, as a binding signature to
this new contract and as the foundation for the Cast the Sleeping Elephant Trust, an IRS qualified
501 (c) (3) organization.

Inception and Role

The Cast the Sleeping Elephant Trust was established by Mihail in 1978. The founding premise
for the organization is what the artist has termed The First Contract with Nature. This document
explores the philosophical and practical implications of man’s dominance over Nature and the
need to readdress and to completely rethink that link to Nature. The Trust’s aim is to install
additional elephant bronzes in world metropolises to promote environmental consciousness.
.......................
All that was fine but where to go in Africa to find an elephant to cast? At first I thought ofUganda
but was quickly discouraged from even trying. President Idi Amin was known to be crazy.
Friends who knew more about Africa suggested Kenya, which had a vast elephant population
and Nairobi – the seat of environmental organizations and news agencies. It sounded like the
perfect place. Should I not go there?

Kenya

At dawn the plane began its silent descent toward Nairobi airport. The sky ahead was bright
orange, the sunrise due any time now; the land below, brick red from the rains.

Upon arrival in Nairobi, I searched for a hotel and found one I liked behind the old market place
in the center of the city. In truth it looked more like a whore house but was otherwise fine. I was
fortunate to find quite quickly the people who, in a matter of days, arranged for me to meet the
Minister of Wildlife and Tourism. Minister Oguto endorsed the project and became a member of
the board of the Cast the Sleeping Elephant Trust. The Minister also directed the veterinarian unit
in charge of the immobilization of large animals, who would sedate a wild bull elephant for me
to cast. It was all perfect.

At this point, I had already drawn and modeled a large number of elephant drawings and
sculptures and was looking around for shows and sales. I needed not only to promote the project
but also to raise funds to cover my quickly mounting expenses. The first exhibition was held in
Milan, Italy.

The Grand Elephant Exhibitions

Milan, 1978 ; Art-9 Basel and Stockholm, 1979

Gallery D’ove la Tigre was a huge industrial space dedicated to contemporary art in Milan, Italy.
The exhibition was a demanding installation for which Lars Langlenskiold flew from New York
to help me and my two Bulgarian artist friends, Alzek Misheff and Vasil Simit set it up. The
Concept, written in Bulgarian, English and Italian, covered the entire walls, while a huge
Elephant model hung on a scaffold and occupied the cement floor.

While I was in Switzerland, Lars and I drove to Lausanne where he lived. At the dinner party he
gave to introduce my project was Teto Ahrenberg, collector of Picasso, Matisse, Braque, Le
Corbusier, Tobey, Chagall, Man Ray, and now collecting the contemporary: Arman, Tingely,
Christo, Chaissac, Ive Klein. From that evening on, Teto was the motor behind my exhibitions in
both Sweden and Switzerland. I wish he could have seen the Elephant installed at the United
Nations Headquarters.
From the very beginning the vision of a sleeping elephant transported by helicopter has been the
desire of my heart; iconic representation of both man’s creative superiority and wildlife’s
vulnerability. In order to find a helicopter for the operation, I went to the Pentagon to ask for
support. A meeting with the Pentagon’s East Africa bureau chief was arranged. On a wall of his
office above old looking green filing cabinets a large map of East Africa was pinned. I explained
the elephant project and inquired if the army had a helicopter capable of lifting an elephant
without shaking him up too much. Of course, we have all kinds of helicopters, said the chief, but
why not ask the Russians to help you - their Indian ocean fleet is stationed not far from
Mombasa. They have a wonderful Sikorsky 64, much better than the one we have. How can
I ask them, I replied, they would never listen to an exiled Bulgarian living in New York.

“We have such a helicopter in West Berlin,” the bureau chief went on, “we could fly the piece to
Tel Aviv - to Sudan - and on to Kenya.”

“I will also need ten soldiers to descend by helicopter over the immobilized elephant: wrap, lift
and deliver him to the cast site,” I added, “maybe, you could use this for your TV
advertisements: What Did I Learn In The Army: I LEARNED HOW TO CAST ELEPHANTS!”

But when I told a Kenyan wildlife warden about my plan to use a powerful military helicopter to
lift the elephant, he said: “If there’s something that elephants really hate – it’s helicopters!”
I consequently abandoned the idea of using a helicopter in the bush but not for the art.
And so for the 1979 Basel “ART-9” fair I planned to deliver a colorful elephant model via
helicopter. But this was Switzerland; the police got wind of my plan and “Do not try that one or
we will down you with the elephant and all!”, was their advice to me. That was very
disappointing. I made a new model.

On the second day of the exhibition Two Circus Knee elephants came to visit my installation.
The small Java elephant stopped at the gate but the big male walked slowly along the row of
galleries and stopped to look at my elephant sculpture. I wish I knew what went through his
mind.
And again, in Stockholm’s Kungsträdgården where another of my large elephant models had just
been installed, a joyful elephant arrived, ”Gotcha.” he probably said. I knew I had the elephants’
attention.

Preparation for the Cast in Africa

Alginate, the Miracle Cast Material.

It was obvious that using plaster to cast an elephant would not work: Plaster is slow; heavy;
breakable; and releases heat when setting. I needed a fast setting and, above all, a nontoxic
material. Fortunately, my long time friends Franz Muheim, Switzerland’s Ambassador in
Washington .D.C. and his wife Radmila, put me in touch with a Californian corporation
producing alginate widely used by dentists as mold material. I wrote a letter to Kelco, a division
of the Merck Corporation, explaining my project to cast a live elephant in Africa and begged
them for a donation of alginate (a lot of it!). And only several days later, I held Kelco’s letter in
my trembling hands.

“Donation. 1,000 pounds of alginate stock. Where do you want it shipped? Good luck to you and
your elephant. Kelco

The alginate stock was shipped to Plastodent, a New York company. This is how I got to know
Joe Fink, who owned the company. Various other substances were to be incorporated with the
alginate stock to make it usable in the bush. Joe designed two different compounds: a 3 minute
once-you-put-it-in-water and a 5 minute one colored in pink.

The Elephant Concern of Chairman Nicolas

Ecoute mon vieux, said Nicolas, “the alginate should first be tried on une belle femme and on a
credible art critic, preferably French. If it works safely on both of them, THEN it will be all right
by me to go on and cast our elephant.”

Dutifully I cast the Beauty and the Beast; the faces of Cheryl Tiegs, the fashion model and of
Pierre Restany, the art critic. There was one last test to be made before attempting to cast the BIG
ONE. I rushed back to Nairobi.

“Go to the equator and turn right. Half a mile further down turn left. You will see the nursery.
You can’t miss it!”.

When we finally arrived there we saw Little Mary elephant chasing Emu birds, what a great
occupation for a baby elephant. She then turned her attention to the white stuff I was plastering
on her back and wanted a taste of it. But I had other worries: instead of 3 it took 23 minutes for
the alginate to set. I flew back to New York.
“Nothing wrong with the alginate.” said Joe Fink. “Could be the altitude you know, quite high up
there, or the temperature of the water, who knows...not to worry. I will fix it.”

And so, by the end of 1979, everything looked to be well in place; CAST THE SLEEPING
ELEPHANT TRUST was established; Kenya had permitted me to cast an elephant on its
territory; the alginate material shipped from New York had arrived in the port of Mombasa;
the project had been exhibited in Italy, Sweden and Switzerland; British Airways were
sponsoring my project; and the international media was following the progress of my work.
What could go wrong?

Campi ya ngiri, the Warthogs Camp.

Campi ya Ngiri is Peter Beard’s camp on the outskirts of Nairobi. Situated on a ridge
overlooking the Ngong Hills, it stood a stone’s throw away from Karen Blixen’s
famed I Had a Farm in Africa house. The camp consisted of canvas tents in various states of
decomposition and the only structure with a door attached to it, “The Library”, was built around
the trunk of a tree. Corrugated metal sheets formed a roof. Inside on shelves and tables lay piles
of manuscripts, pictures, maps, books about African exploration and stacks of New Yorker
magazines. Scattered all over the ground were crocodile bones and skulls.

The camp was my operational base. Friends and journalists frequently dropped by to enquire
about the latest elephant news. It was already mid-March and the rains were due at any moment.

The Wildlife Department had selected March 19 for the immobilization of the elephant. All
preparations were completed except that the drums of alginate were still being held at customs,
in Mombasa. There was something wrong with the transport documentation.

“Not good,” the editor of Coastwek, Mombasa’s weekly newspaper, said to me over the
telephone, “Even God will not be able to release this shipment from customs in under two
months - and that is if everyone cooperates, come over - NOW!”

Mombasa, March 16, 1980

Be in my office tomorrow at six, read the message received at New York’s Time office in
Nairobi. It was from
my customs broker Nagi. I rushed to the nearby Wilson Airport anxious to catch a flight.

Mombasa, the old Indian Ocean port, swarmed with honking cars, overloaded donkeys and most
other means of transportation ever invented by man. It was as hot that morning as it was noisy.
And when we reached the Customs House plaza, it didn’t look good. Imagine a sea of agitated
people trying to shout their way through the imposing iron gate; but we got lucky, the guard was
Nagi’s fellow tribesman and we got in. Nagi raced his motorbike through the hell of overturned
crates, huge trucks, menacing cranes, and quickly reached the rows of warehouses clustered in
what looked like a maze of alleys.
“Not that floor! Don’t talk to the man with the mustache! NO-O-O--the other one, YES!”

“What is this that you are importing, then exporting back to America? Is it plaster - is it cement?”
“Are you a dentist?”

“That story about casting an elephant, Do you have a license for casting elephants?” The yes - no
- maybe answers were given in accordance with Nagi’s nod and by the end of the day we had
done the impossible: We had collected all of the required 53 signatures.

The weekend was less than 15 minutes away, hurry, hurry! Holding tight to our soiled documents
we rushed down the last row of wooden stairs and there they were: my dear drums of alginate,
patiently waiting.

“Open this one!” the customs inspector shouted at us as the metal top of one of the 55 gallon
drums flew off.

“BUT THIS IS HEROIN!” he exclaimed, as armed soldiers with resolute expressions surrounded
us.

“Alginate! This is Al-gi-nate”, I spelled out the word slowly.

“Have you ever seen this much heroin in one place?” someone asked.

“Now I see!” said the inspector, sticking a finger in the white powder and licking it.

But then, spitting angrily, he turned around and left hurriedly with his little army. The drums and
ourselves shot hastily out of the warehouse...hurry, hurry, “CLANG.” The iron gates of the
Customs House slammed shut behind us.

Surrounded by my drums on the sidewalk of the street, I looked around for the truck that should
have been waiting. But where was it? “He go home,” the lemonade vendor was saying to me,
“His wife very, very sick.”

How could I leave my treasure to go and look for another truck? It would certainly disappear.
And Nagi had already gone.

“Where would Sahib like to go?” Standing behind me, a middle-aged Indian man was offering
me his help. And as if by magic a pickup truck appeared. I couldn’t believe my luck. Minutes
later we were on our way to Nairobi.

Falling fast, the night brought with it the sweet smell of frangipani. The mosques were calling
the faithful to prayer. The weekend had started.

Carissa, Northern Kenya, 1980

On March 16 we moved to a camp north of Nanuki. I had rented Carissa, a lodge of lovely
English cottages, from where we could see Mount Kenya’s snowy split peak. The dining hall was
decorated with hunting trophies. A hallway led to a large communal kitchen and a backyard
where my precious alginate-loaded drums rested heavily guarded.

For years I had been thinking about the mechanics of casting an elephant. Fantasy knows no
restraint: lift an elephant and dip him in a bath of alginate. Wait a minute. Pull him out, wash and
release him. Now you have a mold to fill with plaster. That is it - finito.

Another way was to hang the elephant in a scaffold but elephants are heavy, so I designed a
system of belts, which by controlling the pressure to his chest caused by his enormous weight
would allow the animal to breath easily. I still needed to consult with Circus KNEE, at that time
in Lausanne, who had once used a cradle to enable Rosie, an old girl elephant with an injured
leg, to sleep standing up. My cradle design looked similar to the one they had used, and that was
a relief.

Ol Pejeta Ranch, Northern Kenya

The rains should have been here by now but we were lucky and the day was good and dry. We
took off from the tiny grass airstrip in front of Carissa en route to Ol Pejeta and the Elephant.
Half an hour later David Allen landed and taxied toward the row of parked trucks. Alginate, pots,
buckets, water, ropes and various other bits of machinery were already loaded. Adnan Khashogi
and George Tavradakis, may God bless them, had offered me the use of Ol Pejeta, the 117,0OO
acre private ranch and airport in Northern Kenya to cast my sleeping elephant there. 14 hours
earlier the Kenyan government had informed me that the permission to cast an elephant on
government land was withdrawn. If miracles happen then this certainly was one of them.

The Cast in Africa. Helicopters, Cars,

Ladders and Buckets

Ted Goss and his sixty man strong Anti-Poaching Unit had already secured the area and we could
see his helicopter standing by. Our party was ready to go. The media was there in force, ready to
film and to report: Camerapix-Nairobi; BBC-Anglia; AP; Reuters; Magnum-Paris; Sygma;
Gama; People-New York; Domus-Milan; ITA-in flight magazine-Paris; and freelancers from
Germany. Operation “Cast the Sleeping Elephant” was in progress.

Kneeling over what looked like a violin case, Dr. Chawdry was loading his double barrel gun
with the Reckitt & Colman drug, Immobilon, and our two scouting planes had already located
four bulls in the area. Salt had been laid around the area during the night to attract the elephants.
We were looking for a bull to cast because bulls are solitary, while cows and calfs stay in herds.
And it was not in our best interest to disturb the Big Mother.
Our pilots were so excited that we had to warn them not to collide above us or the elephants.
Pilots in Africa have seen too many war movies; and one should never accept a friendly
invitation for a jolly flight from them.

“You are not going to believe this,” a crackling voice came to us over the radio, “the elephant is
in front of you”. And there he was, a red-eyed bull was staring at us from about 50 yards away.
No one had seen him coming. So it happens in nature, animals blend with the environment
and you could easily bump into a giraffe.

Dr. Chawdry had immobilized elephants from a helicopter or leaning from a truck, but never
before on foot. It is extremely dangerous as an angry elephant can easily outrun you, but he
courageously ran toward the beast and shot a dart at him, and then another one, from about 25
feet, right into the elephant’s butt. The beast turned around and ran. Trucks, jeeps and command
vehicles followed in a spirited chase. There are no roads in the bush, just holes and bumps. The
elephant ran for 29 minutes until the immobilization drug finally took hold of him.

Half the party got lost in the bush, the rest arrived at the small clearing amid the thorn trees. The
elephant was still on his feet and shaking, then sat down like a dog. Push him onto his side, said
Dr.Chawdry, and about twenty people rocked the elephant until he rolled over. He took a deep
breath and sank into Dreamland.

“Mr. Mihail,” said Dr. Chawdry, “the elephant is all yours!”

There were three strictly defined zones
around the sleeping elephant

Zone # I: Five feet around the elephant was open to only the vet, my assistant Valdis Kupris, and
myself. No trespassing at any time!

Zone # 2: Twenty feet around the elephant: Pots with alginate enter from the left, the already cast
pieces exit to the right. Do not run, walk slowly!

Zone # 3: Commandeered by Anthony Gross. Twenty people to mix alginate in buckets. Don’t
talk. Mix!

Mixed to a pan-cake dough consistency the alginate was easily spread over sections of the body
of the elephant. Three minutes later it was ready to peel off. Dr. Chawdry attended to the
sleeping animal. The beast was in no danger of overheating. The two-inch thick alginate layer
kept him cool. At one point the elephant had bouts of flatulence, then began to snore; no
manners, but a good sign according to the vet.

The work went fast and smoothly as if we had been casting elephants all our lives. Then it was
time to turn the elephant over and cast his other side. Sheets of plywood were laid on the ground
to protect him from injury when he hit the ground. We rolled the elephant over with the help of a
heavy truck and ropes and a lot of good humor. I will never forget the sounds: the “heart beat” of
the generator; the hovering helicopter and the people shouting and laughing in Swahili, French,
English and Bulgarian.
“Faster!” urged the vet, “FASTER, OK!...it is time!

Carissa, March 20

I walked into the dining room. It was too early for my people to be awake but a guest of our
hosts, a British lord, was already there.

“Good morning,” I said, “shall we have breakfast?” Bewildered, the man looked at me; “Before
nine?” he asked.

Merde, thought I turning on the radio. The sounds of “Big Ben” filled the dining room:

This is the BBC. March 20, 1980. The world news.

The sculptor Mihail has successfully cast a wild bull elephant in Kenya.’

Amazing, it had been done. The elephant was cast. I had heard it on the short wave radio.

Campi ya simba, the Lion Camp, Kora,

Kenya, 1981

Loaded with chicken salad and other produce; two weeks supply for George Adamson’s camp
located in a remote area not far from the Sudan border, “Wings of Progress” was about to take
off from Wilson Airport on the outskirts of Nairobi.

“The plane can take another 170 lbs,” said Fritz looking at me. I quickly squeezed myself amidst
the salads. The single engine woke up, roared, and the plane took off up to the sky over the Rift
Valley, lush green after the morning storm. An hour later, to signal our arrival, we circled over
Campi ya Simba and landed on the airstrip where warthogs, birds and gazelles were having a
party. Fritz taxied to the acacia tree on whose trunk was nailed the sign: Buzz over camp. Land.
Stay in the plane. Lions!

Minutes later, George Adamson, the grand old lion man, arrived in his Jeep and drove us back to
his camp built on the far side of a hill topped with a huge rock. We were in Kora.

I had brought a few Cuban cigars and a decent bottle of Teachers scotch. A camping table was set
up close to the tired looking wire fence surrounding the compound. We sat there, George on his
funny looking chair, which a pilot had once dropped on him as a gift. He had tried to straighten
the frame and added a seat made of leather and plastic strips. On the other side of the wire fence
shone the eyes of two lionesses. They were looking at George; he had raised them.

“Ahaa...ahaaa...ahaaa.” An invisible male lion started blasting the camp with his cunning roar.

“Most nights that lion comes to drink from the water basin under the tree,” said George, “then
chooses a position from where the echo is most pronounced. Perhaps he likes to hear his own
voice. Would you like to know what he says?” I wanted to know. “I am the king of the jungle... I
am the king of the jungle.” “What is the elephant for you, Mihail?”

I hope to find that out one day,” I said.

“There is a verse, I will read it to you tomorrow”, said George.

Circling overhead and waving the wings as a goodbye, Fritz took off for Nairobi. It was getting
dark and heavy. I found myself happily stuck for a while in Kora. That was good, I needed to
think where in the world to place the Sleeping Elephant bronze once it was made.

The obvious place was the United Nations but only countries could proffer such gifts. So we
needed the support of both Kenya and the United Nations: Kenya to receive a bronze Sleeping
Elephant and in turn to give it to the United Nations as their nation’s gift; the United Nations to
agree to receive the bronze Sleeping Elephant as a gift from the Republic of Kenya and to install
the statue at their Headquarters. I was back in Kenya to discuss the idea with the officials. The
Ministry of Wild Life and Tourism knew I was in Kora, waiting. And as soon as the meeting with
the minister was set would be called over the radio back to Nairobi.

The Irish priest arrived at the camp around noon, shirtless (and pinkie-red), wearing shorts,
sandals, and no hat. His companion was a young nun from Sri Lanka.

“Mass will be celebrated tomorrow morning.” he said sternly. No one around showed much
interest in the matter. George Adamson was out of the question, he had been excommunicated
from the church long ago. Tony Fitzjohn, his assistant, had things to do. The cook and I could
find no excuse.

“Try not to shoot a lion,” said George, when counting four bullets into my hand. “And be back
by four.” The vintage .303 Enfield rifle was clamped over the Jeep’s front window. I drove
carefully, the beer bottles stuffed under the front seat of the jeep could easily explode like land
mines in the heat of the day. The one I prised open on the door frame left a black-blue mark on
my arm. In Africa it is always better to drink beer, period! Besides, the water we used in Kora
came from the river and contained little crawling things; up north the rains had started and the
river ran wide and swollen and brick red from the clay.

We stopped at a small clearing along the overgrown banks. There were no traces of crocodiles or
snakes. The Irish priest spread a checkered tablecloth on the ground and broke two chocolate
cookies over a tiny aluminum plate. Then poured what was left from the “Bailey’s Irish Cream”
bottle into a cup he carried in his bag. We sat in silence.

“Dear Lord,” he said with his hands stretched wide, “here we are on the banks of Thy beautiful
river Tana praying for Your Love and Forgiveness.” That was very nice. Still, it was that morning
that the bad mosquito bit me.
Mount Sinai Hospital, New York, NY, 1981
Tropical Research Unit, Open Friday only,
10-12 A.M.

Lucky for me it was a Friday. For the second time that month the fever had gripped me. Seated in
the small waiting room and burning with fever, I waited for the results from my blood test. At
long last the doctors walked in.

“Malaria Falciparum”, one of them said casually,

“You are going to die in three days”, that was the other one, “We have alerted the Tropical
Diseases Centers in Atlanta and London,” he went on, as if that was my main
concern. “Go home now and sort out your business!”

“But aren’t you going to give me medication?”

“If you want”, he said writing a prescription. Qemoquin, 10 tablets. One tablet 3 times daily. 0
refills.

“Thank you” I uttered after them.

There was a pharmacy in the lobby. I swallowed tablet #1 and called Lilda on the phone.

“I am coming home,” I said, “and one more thing. The doctors told me that I will be dead in four
days,” giving myself an extra day.

We sent our daughter Iana to stay with relatives in Paris. I lay on the studio couch burning with
fever, a condemned man. Troubling thoughts were rushing through my mind: True, I had already
cast the elephant in Kenya and the statue was well advanced, but far from finished. “Three days.”
Those doctors had to be out of their minds. “You have to take liquids”. That has to be Lilda
talking, I thought floating back into delirious slumber.

It took me seventeen more years to sort my business, as suggested by the Mount Sinai doctors,
who had sent me home to die!

Gallery Hirondelle, New York, NY. 1985

I worked on the statue for five years and when it was finished, in 1985, exhibited the CAST THE
SLEEPING ELEPHANT’s original plaster at Gallery Hirondelle, New York. The model had to
be cut into “elevator” size pieces to get it to the second floor of the Broom Street building. Harry
Minetree, the writer and journalist, who had witnessed the cast of the elephant in Kenya wrote
the introduction to the exhibition:
Ten years ago New York sculptor Mihail started on his spiritual safari to free the Elephant from
the shackles of Man’s dominating ambitions and return the natural glory of its birthright as the
substance and the symbol of the way the world was meant to be. Finally, after five years of
planning and exhibitions in Milano, Stockholm, Geneva, Lausanne, Gstaad and Basel, on the
nineteenth day of March, 1980, in the deep bush of Kenya, Mihail cast the living wild
bull Elephant...and then freed him for the first time since prehistoric Man had usurped his image.
Now, Mihail is preparing to cast the first of eleven bronzes that will remain forever the property
and the legacy of the sleeping elephant, the collective liberated soul of all the beasts that roam
the Savannas of the living Universe...as long as Forever lasts.

Dear Mister President, Please take this

Bronze Elephant and give it to the United
Nations.

Time and again I rushed back to Nairobi to negotiate. At least five times we reached an
agreement but the Government there was reshuffled quite often and I would have to start
negotiating again. Finally in 1986, after Green Peace chairman David McTaggart pleaded to
President Daniel arap Moi, and Franz Muheim at a conference in Harare, Zimbabwe, met Mr.
Kiplagat, Permanent Secretary of the Kenyan Foreign Ministry, did Kenya officially agree to
propose the elephant bronze statue to the United Nations. UN Secretary General, Javier Perez
de Queller, accepted. I was elated. Little did I know that 12 more years would pass to cast in
bronze and install the Sleeping Elephant in the garden of the United Nations Headquarters in
New York.

To broaden the impact of the gift to the United Nations, we (the trust and I) decided to ask
Namibia to join Kenya. By now Hans Janitschek, journalist and diplomat working for the United
Nations, had been elected Chairman of the Trust, the fourth since 1979. He knew Sam Nujoma
and other SWAPO leaders from their years of struggle for independence from South Africa. Our
request was well received.

And on April 23, 1990, in New York, two hours after becoming a United Nations member state,
Namibia officially joined Kenya for the presentation of the gift of the Sleeping Elephant.

And to get our elephant Out of Africa, we also asked Nepal to join us. Prime Minister Koirala
gracefully agreed. Now it was Kenya, Namibia and Nepal jointly presenting the CAST THE
SLEEPING ELEPHANT bronze to the United Nations, although conceptually, it was the
ELEPHANT and ALL WILD AND FREE ANIMALS
making the gift.

In the summer of 1989 I traveled to Bangkok to visit a foundry that had offered to cast the
elephant bronze if we supplied them with ten tons of bronze, three hundred
gallons of molding rubber and 20,000 dollars. It sounded like a wonderful idea and I started
drawing up plans of how to tow the Elephant mounted on a ceremonial bronze carriage to the
airport escorted by the white Royal elephants (Kipling would have died to see that). But it was
too risky to send the original plaster model to Thailand; it was decided to cast the bronze in New
York where I could oversee the production.

Namibia donated the ten tons of Namibian copper for the cast of the statue. Mr. Churchill,
director of Gold Mines-Namibia asked me if they should ship the metal to Bangkok. “No”, I
said, “we changed the plan. Please ship it to New York.”

“Listen Mihail,” he said (after a short pause), “Can’t we send you money to purchase the metal in
New York instead?”

Artist Statements and Elephant

Proclamation.

Statements were important and in the course of time I made two: the CONCEPT at the beginning
of the project in 1976 and again in 1980 (with the elephant still sleeping on the ground):

I, Mihail, hereby claim this plot of Earth where the sleeping elephant was cast, free habitat for
all elephants and all animals, including man.

The “Elephant” issued a proclamation stating his species animal rights.

A Charter for elephants rights.

We the elephants of the world

In order to ensure our own survival and by virtue of the power and splendor invested in us
do hereby proclaim a nation.

A nation with all the rights and authority of any other.

To be recognized and dealt with as any other.

A Nation that shall reign for all time

Wherever one elephant stands that territory over which it stands is part of the elephant nation.

Wherever one elephant roams that territory upon which it passes is for that moment part of the
elephant nation.

And these territories shall be now and forever inviolable.

The elephant nation claims the rights of all nations

Including but not limited to these:

the right to exist in peace

the right to prosper, grow and multiply

the right to live in harmony with other animals

the right to be recognized by other nations

the right to have recourse to international law

the right to be held free from capture, attack

and murder

These rights and the others declared by the elephant nation at any time in the future are
inalienable.

Let the power and the beauty of the elephant nation be like our own power and beauty.

Long live the elephant nation!

The Stone Tablets.

It was meaningful for the three donor countries to make a similar gesture. The Presidents of
Kenya and Namibia and the Prime Minister of Nepal issued statements that were carved in stone
in Nepal: then blessed at a Hindu temple in Katmandu - whose deity protector Ganesh is the
elephant headed son of Lord Shiva and the Goddess Parvathi:

This image of an African elephant, a symbol of all

wildlife, is Kenya’s tribute to the home of nations.

We strongly believe it will help focus our recognition

of the wholeness of nature as the sole hope of

the earth.
Daniel Arap Moi
President of the Republic of Kenya

Through desserts and savannas stand forever proud

and free/
Sam Nujoma
President of the Republic of Namibia

Lord Pasupati expresses the presence of divinity

in all life, saying the following. He who devoutly

worships my favorite animal form will be freed from

all animalistic sins, and hid wishes will be fulfilled.



Nepala Mahatmya, Chapter 14-8

May this image of an elephant constantly remind

us of the sacredness of wildlife and its ETERNAL

Right to live on earth

Jirija Prasad Koirala

Prime Minister of the Kingdom of Nepal

Epilogue.

Modern Art Foundry, Astoria, NY

The gate opened wide and the SLEEPING ELEPHANT saw the light of day. Rose petals were
falling off his bronze body. Lama Gangchen, Tibetan lama and trustee of the Elephant, and his
followers were at the foundry in celebration.

The flatbed truck, on which the elephant stood, moved out onto the road to New York and before
the morning was over arrived at the UN Headquarters. A crane was there to place the elephant on
the foundation prepared for him.
At the end of a long journey, the elephant had reached his destination. There was nothing more
for me to do.

The Night Caller.

I don’t like night callers, the news is never good. It was Chairman Hans.

“Here is the latest,” he started, “I was summoned for an urgent, five hour meeting at the United
Nations Secretariat. Guess what the topic was?”

“Come on, Hans, what is it?”

“The Penis! The whole meeting was about the penis of the elephant.”

United Nations, Nov. 17 (AFP) - There was panic at the United Nations on Tuesday ahead of
Wednesday’s unveiling of a bull elephant statue with a life-size sexual organ. A senior UN
official was worried that the member’s large proportions might upset children visiting the United
Nations, UN sources said. Various scenarios were being discussed, including radical surgery on
the bronze statue, the sources said. UN chief Kofi Annan is due to unveil the statue, which is a
gift from the governments of Kenya, Namibia and Nepal, in the UN grounds.

The Inauguration, United Nations Headquarters.

November 18,1998, 10.30 a.m

Walking slowly down the path, I saw two white trucks parked close to the Sleeping Elephant.
Workers were busily planting bushes around the statue. Thicker and thicker - until they ran out of
bushes - then called for more, and down the path from Headquarters more bushes on carts came
rushing in. The ceremony was ten minutes away, the invited public waited in silence, it was
surreal. In desperation I turned to Lama Gangchen who stood next to me: “Lama, they are
burying our elephant in bushes”. “Not to worry,” he said calmly, “I’ll ask them (the bushes) to
die. And then I saw UN Secretary General, Kofi Annan approaching.

Secrertary-General’s Statement at
Unveiling of Bronze Elephant in Garden
of Untied Nations Headquarters
(SG/SM/6800 HQ/589)

Thanks Expressed to Kenya, Namibia and Nepal for Gift That Will Be ‘Daily Reminder That We
Are All in Debt to Mother Earth’
This is the text of a statement by Secretary-General Kofi Annan in New York today at the
unveiling in the Headquarters garden of the bronze cast of “The Sleeping Elephant”, presented
to the United Nations by the Governments of Kenya, Namibia and Nepal:

Karen Blixen famously wrote in Out of Africa that elephants pace “along as though they had an
appointment at the end of the world”. Our friend here certainly did; we are glad it survived the
trek.

For this is a special day. The Governments of Kenya, Namibia and Nepal deserve our heartfelt
thanks for this generous gift, and for persevering through a long journey to make this happen --
because today the elephant has arrived at the United Nations at last, and it is here to stay.

Elephants, whether asleep or awake, evoke many things to many people. A former Governor of
Brazil’s Central Bank said his country’s domestic debt was like having an elephant sleeping in
the basement of your house, and wondering when it would wake up and ask for peanuts.

Eighteen years have passed since Mihail Simeonov went to Kenya, tranquilized a wild bull
elephant and took a cast of it before releasing it unharmed into the wild.

Since that day, the story has taken many twists and turns. There have been several rounds of
painstaking negotiations. At one point, there was even the accidental destruction of some of the
original mold in a college boathouse.

The final wrangle concerned the mode of transport from the foundry in Brooklyn. Plans for a
boat ride on the East River and a helicopter lift were discussed and discarded; finally, our friend
was wheeled on the back of a flat-bed truck along First Avenue. A crane was on hand to put it in
place.

But as we see this magnificent animal stand before us today, it was worth the wait. The sheer size
of this creature humbles us. And so it should. For it shows us that some things are bigger than we
are. It tells us that Earth is not ours, but a treasure we hold in trust for future generations.

It teaches us that if our global village is to be a truly desirable place for all of us on this planet,
it must be guided by a wish to nurture and preserve, and not to threaten or destroy, the variety of
life that gives it value.

And so, as the animal that never forgets, let the elephant serve as our institutional memory; let us
remember that when future generations come to this garden as mature adults, this elephant will
still be here. As we walk by it in the days and years to come, may all five tons of it stand as a
daily reminder that we are all in debt to Mother Earth; that we ignore this at our peril; and that,
if and when the elephant wakes up because we have failed in our duty, chances are it will ask for
much more than peanuts.

I thank you all.

It had taken me 22 years to do the first of the ten bronze elephants as stated in the trust
agreement. With nine more to go, I had better hurry. Where could the next
one stand?

Why not in Paris’ Place de la Bastille or at the EU Headquarters in Brussels?