In learning to sculpt, I had real difficulty with accepting the tradeoff between story and beauty in a sculpture. Too often, a story (or a moment of a story) won’t fit neatly into a sculpture that should have a dynamic flow, verticality, and appropriate balance and symmetry. I got the impression that the right way was to basically forget the story and let the form take the lead.
That wasn’t satisfying though, especially because the piece that first sparked my interest was one that I find insanely beautiful while it simultaneously captures a moment of a story that is surely worth reading. I desperately want to know what led to that moment, and how it will conclude.
In the vein of storytelling, I have a couple of ideas that have been coming back to me for years – things that I want the world to hear, or better yet feel, and I want to convey the message through sculpture. But I have not yet figured out the form that will tell the story while also being beautiful to look at.
Somehow, I landed on a worthwhile story in a piece that began with nothing but form. This is “9….8….7….”, a struggle pitting a cat’s lives versus an octopus’ limbs.
It’s a piece that began with just three tentacles. I wanted to play with the rhythm of the tentacles, so I did a little study in plasticine. I loved it, so I added tentacles and expanded on the rhythm. This sculpture was speaking to me, and I started thinking about what the story might entail. Is it an octopus…in love? With…a bird? That relationship would never work, which intrigued me! I still want to revisit that idea. But in thinking about other stories, I arrived at the idea of a cat held underwater by his tail. Fighting back against the octopus, and maybe getting a tentacle or two with his sharp claws. And when it struck me that for each tentacle the cat severs, he may have lost one of his nine lives, I knew that was the story that needed to be captured. And I knew the question I wanted to leave hanging: Which will be exhausted first, the lives or the limbs? 9…8…7…
From there, the work became about expression. The octopus could remain calm, as he may have started the sculpture but he’s not the main character anymore. The jaguar, however, needed a personality. I spent a long time on his face and paws, chasing a very specific moment of surprise turning into resistance. The reference image that had inspired the personality of the jaguar felt unmistakably right: a cat that is most definitely thinking “WTF?!?”. He’s surprised and he’s pissed, and from the get-go I want him to win.
I still want to work on my story-driven pieces, the ones that I feel I just need to get out into the world. But now I’m also looking forward to the form-oriented pieces where the story unfolds as we go.
If you’re interested in seeing this work in person—or seeing any of my sculptures—I’m always happy to arrange a private viewing. You’re welcome to reach out directly.
