It has been 10 years since I surrendered my breasts to save my life from an aggressive cancer. As I underwent five months of heavy-duty chemotherapy before the surgery, my energy diminished and I let go of a number of activities. I wrote more, and worked with clay less. The sculptures I did make during that time were mostly on the theme of “surrender.”
Now, I’ve moved into cohousing and have been slowly surrendering my ceramics equipment in preparation for selling the house that was my home for 19 years. I’ve also been finding new homes for many of the remaining pieces. Though sad in some ways, this has also led to some very happy moments. Last fall when I advertised I was giving away ceramics to people canvassing for Harris/Walz, I got to meet and connect with wonderful people, and see their happiness with the gifts. This spring when I donated my glazes to Artworking, I discovered that they had somehow acquired one of my all-time favorite pieces, that I’d regretted selling too soon and to a stranger, because I thought I’d never see it again.
I’ve made many wonderful new friends through writing. One of these, Pam, has adopted a set of pieces I called my “Surrender” series. We collaborated to install them in her yard at 417 S. Dickinson St. in Madison. When she offered to make a small sign to identify the piece, with the title “Surrender” on it, I struggled a bit. What would it mean to have a sign that said “Surrender,” with my name on it, erected at this moment in history?
The pieces have their heads bent backward at a nearly impossible angle. How far can a person bend over backwards without breaking? If you don’t look closely enough at the details, you might think their heads are bent forward in despair. Surrender can be ecstatic or devastating.
What, I asked myself this morning, do I feel now? How can “Surrender” be a positive message in this moment, when everything I hold dear is under threat from the forces of greed, hatred, ignorance, inertia, hopelessness? I certainly don’t intend to surrender to them.
Surrender / No Surrender
No surrender
to despair
to the least common denominator
‘Never Surrender’ to those.
Instead, I surrender:
to truth
to beauty
to pleasure
to a ‘deeper wave than this,’ that surely must be coming
to love
to song
I surrender to change
to what I cannot change
Surrender false hope
in hopes of finding
or creating
and practicing
a truer
more ‘muscular’ hope.
I surrender my home
I let go of
privacy
individualism
the illusion of control
In favor of
practicing cooperation
living closely with others
smaller footprint
caring for each other
this home
this land
and its history.
I surrender my ceramics studio
Bring
my creations out of the basement
my full voice into the world
the breaking world.
So Powerful.💕
Thank you Becca, so much surrender at this time while we garner nee and deeper strength and love And i love your flame sculpture, thank you for sharing it this way.
Oh, Becca. So good.
Dear Becca
What an inspiring message. Elevates surrender to a major aspirational goal. I was moved by your narrative and the art. G
Beautiful sculptures and thoughts.
The power and positivity of surrender – wonderful!
yes, at first glance I saw the heads bent forwards. Your words take ‘letting go’ to a different dimension, ever fluctuating back and forth between control/no control, positive-hopeful/negative-despair. Your work itself goes deep. Thank you!
Yes! Bring your full voice out into the breaking world….and help create the new world!