Sculpting Grief

I wish I knew exactly what drew me in. I do recall what I brought: a bullet and my late husband's dried wedding boutonniere. Melissa Ichiuji, the workshop teacher, was afraid the bullet could explode easily. I reassured her it wouldn't. I just never imagined something solid could explode without impact.

The workshop was on figurative sculpture, something I knew nothing about, never having had an art class. But here I was. Boom!

The theme of the workshop was Home. The assignment was to bring in two objects associated with home. One object would represent the comfort or “ease” of home and the other the “dis-ease.” The objects had to fit in your hand and become part of the sculpture. Daunting. Due to my eleventh hour registration, I had little time to find the objects. The stray bullet I discovered on a shelf in a large safe. The dried boutonniere, which I never knew my husband had preserved, I found in his medicine cabinet.

Initially, we created the bodies. Using wire to form an armature, we wrapped cotton batting around it to fill in a human form. We then sewed fabric onto it to finish and define it. Picking the right fabric for my female sculpture was key. Initially drawn to a “wonder woman” cloth, I discarded it for a black velvet piece with traces of deep floral color. “Elegant and sensual,” I thought.

The workshop felt to me like Project Runway. I was determined to finish the piece by the end of the weekend, so I worked like mad. My work area was a complete mess, and my late husband's boutonniere, which he had lovingly kept for years, was crushed into pieces by my driven industriousness. I brought it home -quietly devastated.

That evening I decided to stuff the boutonniere into the sculpture behind the fabric and next to the heart. Laid to rest. A hidden secret - only I knew.

The next morning with 6 hours to go in the workshop, we discussed how to incorporate the item of “dis-ease.” This was the bullet. I considered all kinds of creative images - like having it pooped