So, I thought I had let go of the plaster sculpture that was rotated to someone else. I thought I was comfortable with someone else giving it their own twist and using it to created their own final piece. I even convinced myself I was just so curious about what direction they’d take it. And then I saw it. And it bugged me. I had not let go. The entire time I looked at the sculpture, I was bothered by the color the artist chose. In my mind, it would (should?) resemble an amethyst geode (purple, white, and maybe a glint of silver or gold). But there it stood in its black and gold glory, and my brain just wasn’t having it. It surprised me how many times I looked at it, and it felt ‘wrong.’ It also surprised me that I was not able to let go of that feeling of ‘wrongness’ that arose every single time I looked at it. I wasn’t effective in letting go. I was just effective in convincing myself that I had…

Image source: https://www.pinterest.com/coolsciences/geode/

Letting go of my plaster sculpture and picking a third one to work on wasn't as difficult as I anticipated. I'm at a point where I'm curious to see what the other student will do with the piece I started, and I have no attachment to the second piece I worked on. Maybe it helped that I really like the shape of the third and final piece I am working on right now. It reminds me of sky and waves. I guess it could be fire just as easily, but I chose to paint it blue. I gave it coats of spray paint in two shades of blue. The next step is to bring silver and gold pens to class and invite the other students to draw and/or write something in it. That really is taking the letting go theme to another level, since I'm relinquishing a lot of my control on how the piece will end up. At the same time, I'm curious and excited to see what will come out of that collaboration. I think the inspiration to this step of the process is a combination of a work I did for a class where passers-by participated in my artwork by writing a word in a colored piece of paper, and the other inspiration is the work of Iskandar Jalil, which I had the privilege to see last month. The image below is one of his pieces that caught my attention—fun and playful, just as I hope mine will turn out to be. Then again, I better let go of this hope as well...

Singapore National Gallery - Iskandar Jalil

Today we switch plaster sculptures again and I find myself thinking about the possibility to get mine back. Or should I say "mine" since someone else worked on it as well. From what I saw the other day, it seems pretty unchanged since I released it so I can't say it feels that the piece is a collaboration at this point—even though I saw her hack at it on the day we switched. Part of me wants it back, and part of me wants to commit to letting go and pick a different one. Then the thought that arises is, ‘what if other people want theirs back and I take it?” Are other people struggling with letting go? Are some relieved to let go of their pieces? Do some not care and haven’t even given it a second thought? Then again, depending on how things go, someone may pick mine before I have a chance. Breathe and let go… Breathe and let go… Breathe…

A time of letting go...

In the last month or so, I seem to be repeatedly given the message that I need to let go. Let go of my beloved cat Neguinho, who was my buddy for 11 years; Let go of a friend whom I knew for almost 20 years and now is also no longer with us. Letting go on that level has been very difficult—I've never experienced sadness so overwhelming. And, I'm told to let the sadness go.
And then there are the other ways I'm being forced and pushed to let go. Letting go of controlling the shape of a chunk of plaster that insists in not chipping in the way I intend. Letting go of the pain and discomfort that increases as I chisel material away for hours at a time so I can continue for just a bit longer. Letting go of the shape I created with so much effort and care to watch it become something else at the hands of another.
I am told to let go and focus on gratitude. As I hear the words, I realize that I'm not ready yet.