In 2007, The Japanese American National Museum in Los Angeles held an exhibition of sculptures. They used terms like crocheted and looped to describe the work. At the time, I was in my third year living in Los Angeles. I had been crocheting wire and beads into necklaces and bracelets and selling them at local craft fairs and the Melrose Trading Post (a flea market near Hollywood). I was a vintage goods dealer as well as held a full-time job.
I had a desire to use wire to make things bigger - outside the realm of body adornment. I'd looked for that "thing" in garden art, wall displays and nothing triggered my inspiration. I was eager to see these wire sculptures. I was not aware of Ruth Asawa and her work. I lived just a few miles from Little Tokyo in LA where the museum is located.
The JANM's press release about the show says this:
"Asawa's sculptures inhabit the room with an alert, yet mysterious, stillness that can be associated with meditation. Viewers who have been chatting before entering the installation frequently stop in stunned silence, suddenly more aware in the midst of these objects that share an ineffable affinity."
This describes my reaction with the only difference is I wanted to know how she constructed the sculptures. Desperately wanted to know. On the way out the door there was a small sign that said "Workshop with the Artist"....and a date. So I showed up the next day for the workshop only to learn it was the following weekend. My enthusiasm trumped my reading comprehension in that moment. So the next Saturday Ruth Asawa's daughter led a class of about 10 people in the technique of looping one loop inside of another and inside of another...and on and on.
I took to it immediately. It felt like my creative brain and heart had found a spark and I've been creating sculptures ever since. With each one I try to honor the spirit of generosity Ruth Asawa so kindly extended by sharing her technique and I try to find my own voice. For me it comes slowly. The technique naturally lends itself to shapes that often seem to mimic Asawa's. But I strive for imperfection. Someone whose intentions were not kindness told me my work looks like it's had the wind knocked out of it. I thanked him. I have lived through some experiences that feel like a powerful wind has gusted through me, so to have it translated through my art is a high compliment. This unsolicited critique felt like an injury but turned out to be a gift.
That's enough for now. Thank you for reading if you've made it this far.
