Many of you will notice that my Sculpture of the Month (SOM) email comes late this March… but it also comes early this April!
I’ve been buzzing around the county lately, participating in two shows in Watsonville, then setting up a third one that’s now running in downtown Santa Cruz. With all the activity, this is my first chance to get a new SOM out the door!
Since I have a couple more local events coming up in April (info at the end of this email), I decided to slip a double feature into this oddly-timed, SOM package for you! I expect to be back again with the next issue at the beginning of May.
By the way, you can catch up with all the SOM back issues on the blog!
Often, for these SOM articles, I research what connections images in the featured sculpture may have with myths and archetypes from various cultural sources. Occasionally, I find myself and others connecting more with how the works seem to address specific events or recall specific people in our lives. Both of the sculptures I’ll feature today follow this more personal path.
Some of you will have read the poem “Sundown for Mom” by Cheryl Latif, which appears in our new book Reflexions. Written as a memorial to the poet’s mother just after she died, this is the only poem in the book that wasn’t directly inspired by the sculpture it’s paired with.
That sculpture is my March Sculpture of the Month:
Reborn in Starlight
Cheryl felt the message in the sculpture Reborn in Starlight echoed that in her poem: “…brilliant sky splashed with the deepest / orange against blue and gray … the mixture of sorrow and grace / a new face given old beliefs / searching for peace…”
Interestingly, this sculpture had already been purchased prior to the book project… by a man who had just lost his life companion.
This is my April Sculpture of the Month:
The Anointment of Tenderness
For the April , I decided to focus on the only piece in my current exhibit at the Big Basin Vineyards Tasting Room in Santa Cruz that I have not already featured in past SOM issues: The Anointment of Tenderness.
At first, I struggled to find possible myths and meanings associated with this piece. Then, my neighbor texted me. His wife, Amy, had just died at the age of forty-nine. We knew it was coming when she received a stage four ovarian cancer diagnosis nine months ago, but it was still a shock to feel the loss of someone in the prime of their life.
It struck me, then, that The Anointment of Tenderness spoke to this specific event.
In the sculpture, we see an elephant spraying a blessing of water through its trunk over the head of what looks like a salamander larvae. Nearby, a woman — who reminds me of Amy — celebrates this anointing.
In their life cycle, salamanders must metamorphose from gill-breathing young into lung-breathing adults. And I have read that dreaming of an elephant spraying water hints at complacency and not wanting to learn new skills. Perhaps the tender anointment in the sculpture could help to fearlessly awaken new breath in us all.
My neighbor Amy’s essential nature, to me, had always been an interesting combination between tenderness and fearlessness, even in the certainty of an early death. She continued to live life to its fullest, seeing her friends, profoundly mentoring her students to face their fears and embrace their visions, and sharing her favorite places with her husband and daughter as much as her illness permitted.
In a cogently important way, The Anointment of Tenderness bears witness to the fearless, tender way Amy handled her own transformation from life to death, while at the same time inspiring a fearless metamorphosis in others.
In these times of continuing crisis and stress, we may feel tempted into complacency about the challenges of the world. Amy’s passing and this sculpture remind me, however, that the fearlessness and resilience we need to build a sustainable future will only emerge from the tenderest parts of ourselves.
