Life Stories by Leah Wadman

My friend, Leah Wadman, is a sculptor.  We worked on Metaphor together when I was Chief and she was Visual Arts Editor.  Good times, but stories for another day.  One thing we've learned having graduated from the Arts and Humanities that no one may have warned you about is the lull in the muse.  After the deadlines are past and the pressure of "professional" criticism from professors is behind you, there is a sudden, startling disconnection with the muse.  It's a bit terrifying, actually.  There is a part of you that is afraid that you may never create anything again.  You wander through aisles of materials and tools, former friends that feel like strangers to your eyes.

And then...

It strikes.  Some phantom idea of a possible project...it may be something small at first.  It may be something very "surface" and "safe".  (Craft stores and Hallmark cards are full of "safe" art.)  But, as you start to work again, you find the lost connection, and you discover that is deeper and more true to your own voice than anything you created for the classroom.

Leah thought she'd be creating a series of masks for this show.  She studied the Venetian mask making techniques IN Italy.  (Italians are terribly jealous of their own paper, so learning the technique was a miracle in itself.)  But, as she worked through ideas, Leah wanted more depth.  No surprise, really.  Leah is the keeper of a deep and brilliant soul.  She began by asking her friends to share a story or fairy tale that was important to them.  Then, she asked as to share the reason this story is significant to our own lives.

What happened next is nothing short of genius.

My own story was Narcissus and Echo.  Narcissus was the one who died looking at his own reflection.  Echo was the one who loved him, but could only speak when spoken to.  The significance for me was the time period my sweet husband buried himself in the computer and I felt insignificant because he wouldn't connect with me.  Thankfully, we're past that.  In the meantime, it made for great art.

"Rebecca"

Do you recognize the "Halo" game on the computer screen?  James didn't.  He laughed and said, "I've never played that game in my life!"  Of course, that was because he doesn't own this version.  Leah was nervous that James would be offended somehow by the piece, but he was completely impressed by the whole thing and awfully glad we've been able to remove the flower from my own lips at home.

I'm really sad about the photo storage limits because I cannot show you every sculpture.  All eight pieces were poignant and appreciated by more than the women who inspired them.  I'm so happy we were able to make it for opening night.  If you have time, check it out at WSU before it closes.