Rough, terse, and uneven, there was something unsettling and yet familiar about the rough countenance of this sculpture at the Biennale Arte 2013 in Venice. It begged to be poked, stretched, shaped and shaped. I wanted to pick it up, poke it with my fingers, and model it into something more tangible and defined. Help it become whatever it was that it was trying to become.
Then I noticed the name: “Between Confidence And Doubt.”
I resemble that remark—and that sculpture, I thought. Far too often, I am that blob of clay. Transitioning, shifting, evolving. Vacillating because I’m trying to get somewhere new, or make a change—and I’m not sure that I can. Or that I should. Or that I have the energy to do it right.
I find myself in that place more often than I like to admit.
Anyone who says anxiety, optimism, persistence and dread can’t come in the same package–is wrong.