Do You Hear What I Hear? – Sept/Oct 1997

I’ve recently returned from a symposium where I found myself often spewing the verbiage to anyone who’d listen, that one of the reasons I so enjoy attending is because sculpting is such a solitary endeavor. It really isn’t true. No, there aren’t warm bodies nearby, but somehow those little voices keep me company while I’m working. Not the Son of Sam type voices where I’m being told to off the next glass artist I can get my hands on, or the Joan of Arc voices with instructions from Deity. More like mom and dad type voices, but these belong to artists, teachers, you.

Now I can drown them out with Ella Fitzgerald, or muffle them by worrying about every day life, or actually concentrating on the piece, but still a few usually come through loud, clear and dusty. That’s good though, for they all have some value if only to get me mad enough to be myself Here are some that ring in my ears as I work. Many are the way I heard them, not necessarily the way they were said. A couple are Probably my own words to myself, but really I don’t think I’ve thought up many memorable phrases even I’d remember. These are my voices; you all have your own.

Basic instructive phrases: “All forms should be based on geometric shapes.” “True curves, Meredith, true curves.” (It took me forever to figure out what the hell a true curve was.) “It must look like it was done with intent.” “Use your safety equipment or your eyes will fall out, your ears shut off forever and you’ll be spending the last years of your life matching your wardrobe to your oxygen tank.” “You must be able to draw well before you can sculpt anything.” (That’s like telling an amputee their missing limb doesn’t itch. The brain may agree, but try and tell the heart.) “A good artist learns all of the rules and then breaks them.”

Repetitive questions that can either inspire me to deep, however possibly meaningless, thought, or shut me down: Why alabaster? Why stone? What’s with all the damn swans?

My Best of the Big Shot collection which got me started and keeps me going: When my back and neck are hurting I eat like a mantra the words of a painter whose name I know, but of course can’t now remember, “The pain goes away, but the beauty remains.” The words of Brancusi, which are why I do what I do, “What is real is not the external form, but the essence of things.” “Sculpture must be lovely to touch, friendly to live with, not only well made … ” Les Brown’s “Shoot for the moon. Even if you miss it, you will land among the stars.” And perhaps the hardest one of all follow, Duke Ellington’s “I merely took the energy it takes pout and wrote some blues.”

The “slugs” as Jennifer James calls them. Some elicited some just precious little “gifts”. They all come back at times and hurt, but also get my ass going. “Your swans are irrelevant. Go back to making hands.” “I would never touch alabaster. If you want to compete with the big boys and be taken seriously you have to do marble and make big sculpture.” “You can’t do that with stone.”

Contradictions. “Why must you make all of these birds – they mean nothing.” The next day – “I love this swan, I just want to touch it.” Another teacher, “No *** birds are going to be made here!” The same person stroking a swan and speaking, to a group “This is a perfect sculpture.”

“Maradeath!” “Merrrrradeeth “Merradetha” Many of my voices have lovely accents.

My friends that stay with me through every piece: “I hate those damn flat surfaces – get rid of them!” “Push your sculpture to the limits. ” “Maybe they don’t listen to you because they can’t do what you do. ” “Maradeath – proceed with bravery!”

My safety lines: “Only make what you love. Your heart will show in your work.” “When one day at a time seems too hard, try one minute at a time.” “Find one small miracle in nature every day and you’ll get through.” “Don’t be afraid to be like Icarus. When sculptors try to reach the sun, only then can their heart soar. “

I’m not alone in remembering what I’m told. Many art students stop because of too many slugs. “Artists need constant affirmation, but when they get it, it isn’t enough. That’s why they keep making more art.” It may not be that, it may just be that we care about what we do.

But it dawned on me the other day that I’m a teacher now too. All of us are who have been doing this longer than someone else end up teaching. Somebody may be listening to me, or to you. So we need to be careful. Someone may remember our words. No more useless, unsolicited critiques after a piece is finished. Someone’s spirit is in there. We must never tell a person what we feel the value of their work isn’t. And if I have, please take that voice and put it in a trash can and dump it into oblivion, because all of us only know what we know. In the simplest, purest form, there really is no bad art, because there is nothing bad about wanting to communicate or create.