She was the Best Listener by Ingrid Lilligren

 

I’m sitting quietly at Lagomarcino courtyard, sipping on my cappuccino, on the bench and recalling fond memories of my life here. I have been reflecting on my journey at Iowa State since my graduation has been drawing near. I am surprised by all the fond little memories that have enriched my life, and I have had a lot of memories in this courtyard. They roll through my mind like vignettes….

My first weekend at Iowa State, my roommate and I took our cameras and shot pictures of us in the beauty of our new surroundings. I fell madly in love with the iron gates. I took this photo that had one opening toward me with the sunlight beaming through the doors as if they were opening for me, letting me into the next chapter of my life. It became my background and inspiration for the next school year...

The next summer, I remember sitting in the courtyard on lunch break with my co-worker, eating sandwiches and enjoying nature. We were chatting and becoming better friends. I remember laughing at her, sitting on a wet bench and kicking off our shoes. An energetic chipmunk kept running in and out of the bushes and around the benches. Its courage finally grew so it came close to us, so we broke pieces of our bread and laid them on the ground for it to eat...

Standing in the bitter cold, hands full of black plastic and red ribbon, as group of students trying hard to cover the sculpture Madonna of the Prairie in a pretty way. We had one person holding the roll of black plastic and another running in and out of the people trying to hold it all in place. Folding the plastic in place and taping a sign about “A Day without Art” and a red ribbon to top off the display. Then we moved to the mural on the wall which was well above my small 5’2’’ frame, trying to see if there was even a way to attempt to shroud this masterpiece.  However, the bitter weather made the tape impossible to attach to the brick wall of Lagomarcino. So giving up we moved on with the shrouding demonstration...

I remember the dedication of a newer Art on Campus sculpture.  I was in the courtyard the day before with the magnolia blossoms falling like feathers, lining the sidewalk like a wedding aisle. But today it was chilling and the spring rain had soaked the petals to the ground. Crowds of people stand hidden under a sea of umbrellas. The rain started to fall harder so the dedication ceremony sought shelter under the outdoor corridors around the courtyard...

A smile spread across my face as these seemingly pointless, fragmented memories flew through my mind. I glance at the newer sculpture as I remember the soggy dedication day. She was the Best Listener is the name of the bird bath sculpture. It has stacks of books. The books are what catch my attention as I have always been brought up believing that books are the portal to yourself and the world. My parents used to read to my brothers and I every night as toddlers and when we became older we would read the books together. They encouraged us at every book fair to pick at one that grabs our eye and in school I always had one of the highest reading hours logged.

A small chuckle escaped my lips, as I remember sticky situations involving that curious monkey named George. I loved those books. My brothers shared their love of the stories with me, however I was always more partial to the man in the yellow hat. I’m not sure if it is because he worked at a museum, or because he always said the most bizarre things, or the mere fact that he wore so much yellow and didn’t care what others thought about it. I just loved when he said, “The real way to learn anything is to go out and experience it and let your curiosity lead you.” This is something that I took to heart.

Looking at the other books I saw a few more classics, which brought back memories. For example, Jo March in Little Women has always been an inspiration to me - her spunky spirit and the fact she always stayed true to who she was. I loved her fiery passion and her direct view on the world. “I find it poor logic to say that because women are good, women should vote. Men do not vote because they are good; they vote because they are male, and women should vote, not because we are angels and men are animals, but because we are human beings and citizens of this country.” She was definitely a role model to me as I grew up. Her views on equality for women, her protectiveness of her family and their good name, and her openness to say she does not fit into the world, helped mold my views on my own life. As an artist myself, I adored her creativity… “Late at night my mind would come alive with voices and stories and friends as dear to me as any in the real world. I gave myself up to it, longing for transformation,” Jo explained. I too longed for transformation from reality and into a fantasy world many times growing up. I wanted to escape into the worlds of the books I read.

It is funny how one little place or one little public art, can spark so many fleeting memories. Memories at the mere moments seem unimportant but years later those are the memories that bring a smile to your face and warmth your heart. I treasure all my memories, good and bad, because it has made me the way I am. With those memories, books I have read will also direct my life; whether it provides me with encouragement, advice, ideas or an escape from the stressful world. I have embraced my little memories that I have acquired throughout my adventure at Iowa State and will hold them close to my heart as I start my next journey outside the beautiful grounds of the campus. 

As I get up from my bench, I notice the saying on the top of the beautiful sculpture, “Don’t wait say it today.” That simple but powerful message will go with me as well. Sometimes we wished we had just one more day; one more day to create new memories and hold onto the lovely ones we made. When someone important leaves your life, the feeling of wishing you had that extra day to say all the things you wished you had said but sadly did not can overwhelm your memories. Regret is something that can creep into the memories and tarnish the lovely moments. It is easy sometimes to dwell on the negative, but we must not. It is the lovely memories that encourage us that brighter days will come and brings peace to our hearts. If we could just live by this simple phrase, perhaps precious memories will be protected and even more will be formed in our hearts. So please remember “Don’t wait say it today” and protect those simple, happy memories. 

By Emily Van Nostrand

The Alcove and Epilogue by Harriet Bart

A fleeting moment where one seeks tranquility,

A quiet place to reflect on life.

A secret place to escape from reality,

An alcove to remove strife.

The Alcove was an installation designed by Harriet Bart under the grand stairway of Catt Hall. This was my go-to spot when life got overwhelming, when I first arrived on the Iowa State campus. The piece was tucked away from sight; away from the crowds of peers milling around the campus finding their way to their next class, finding their way through life, finding themselves. There was a bench, just big enough for two people, with a set of bronze books perched on the edge, another set precariously laid on the window sill. Three towering bronze columns of stacked books ran up the wall under the grand staircase, seemingly providing the structure’s integrity.  The stairs became one with the installation as words engraved on the steps gave inspiration with “Invent,” ” Discover,” and “Remember.”

When I felt beaten down from the outside forces of this busy world, I found shelter and sanctuary at The Alcove. It brought me back to all the times books have been there for me. They shaped me, sheltered me, and supported me when I needed them.  I remember going on wild adventures with Tom and Huck; having  magical endeavors with Harry, Ron, and Hermione; or digging up mysteries and encouraging  growth in that Secret Garden. These stories helped me get through rough times by allowing me to escape into the pages with the characters and away from the reality.  After those stories came to mind, the books that helped me learn facts and information that guided me to who I am, who I want to be, and supported my integrity flashed in my mind. These are the books that brought me to this university. These books were for learning, discovery, and knowledge. As I stare at the towering columns of literature, a small quote inscribed on the floor speaks softly, as if my conscience is alerting me to an important lesson. “Pay attention to what they tell you to forget.”

This quote stuck with me since I read it that freshman year, it stayed in the back of my mind. It whispered to me throughout my years at Iowa State. Do not be swayed by others. When others tell me something is not important, stop and question why. Maybe it is or will be important to me. Why will I let others dictate what I will or will not remember?  More than likely there is a reason why they tell me to forget something, and it is beneficial to do the opposite. This is my own life and I will take from the outside world what I’d like. It encouraged me to pay attention to my surroundings and really be aware of the intentions of those around me.

But as with life, the outside forces do finally take their toll. My beloved alcove was beaten down and the stairs began to crumble.  It was no longer safe to escape beneath the once “safety-net” of The Alcove.  The artist took some of the main elements and created a “rebirth” of the art installation, you might say. This installation, located behind Morrill Hall, is now called Epilogue. It includes the three bronze columns of books, a bench and the quote; however, the integrity of the sculpture did not come with. It is a nice installation, but that is all… just nice. Most of the same elements are there, but they do not provoke the deep emotions and memories that stirred in me when sitting at The Alcove. It does not provide me with the internal discussion that once was my meaning of the installation.

It does not invite me to pause and contemplate on my thoughts or my life. It feels disjointed in a way I can not quite put my finger on. A crudely formed bronze owl is perched on the ledge atop the columns of books, a new addition to Epilogue. Owls symbolize wisdom, intelligence, and independence. This detail could have been added to show that with the knowledge we gain through literature, one finds the wisdom to be who they are meant to be and discover the independence to do so. A good sentiment to be sure, however the owl’s placement and form just does not seem connected to the rest of the installation. And the quote that has been a part of my conscience these past years, it no longer small and thought provoking.  It is written largely like a banner over the books, more like a statement, than powerful advice discovered in one’s quest through literature. I personally just strongly dislike the new arrangement of once powerful elements.

As I walk past this new installation, the word “Remember” engraved on the bench is the only part that speaks to me. I will remember the joy the stories brought to me in my youth. I will remember the knowledge the texts provided and the instructors that encouraged me to discover my interests and passions. I will remember the clarity and tranquility I received when pondering my life in that peaceful place. I will remember The Alcove fondly.

By Emily Van Nostrand

Escalieta I by Manuel Neri

Walking across the campus on a brisk September morning, as swarms of students scatter in every direction, I spotted a girl standing at an intersection of the sidewalk, talking to various people that came her direction.  As I approached the young female, I heard her say to another passerby, “It’s okay, I will ask her.”  This statement slowed down my walking as if anticipating that “her” was me. It was. She turned to me and asked “Do you know where Forker is?”

She was a freshman.  I knew exactly where it was and offered to take her there myself. As we walked and chatted, it dawned on me that she was starting her first semester on this adventure at Iowa State and I am starting my last. We were the beginning and the end of the cycle of the college experience.  It had not completely sunk in that this is my last semester and come this December I will no longer call this campus my home.

Just prior to encountering the lost freshman, I was studying the Art on Campus sculpture Escalieta I by Manuel Neri, located at the Gerdin Business Building. This wonderful stone sculpture has the rough outline of a woman reminisce of the Greek era goddesses.  Its determining details have not been completed, as if waiting to be finished and developed.  Just like the freshman coming into the year ready to finish developing who they want to be or are supposed to be. 

One leg of the woman is slightly forward, as if she is taking the step into the next chapter of her life. Freshmen come here to take the first step of getting the specialized training into the career path that will shape them into who they will become. Through the next few years they will be molded and formed into complete human beings, just as a statue is being chiseled and formed into a complete work of art. 

The face of the woman is very rough, only the mouth is fully developed.  As freshman we do not know or understand who we are. We are still searching and learning about what makes us… well us. What qualities are important, what beliefs we believe and what features give us our identity.  Those are things, if you are lucky, we learn in college. As women, it is also a time to understand and accept our gender and sexuality. The goddess figure has a beautiful physique; however, the breasts are not fully refined, touching on this topic. As we grow into ourselves we need to understand gender stereotypes and how they impact our self image and how to overcome them or use them to our advantage.

As I reflect on my journey here at Iowa State, I start visualizing what would my sculpture look like now.  Would it be refined and finished? Would it still have the rough, details of a freshman sculpture?

I have learned so much during my many years at Iowa State. I have experienced great things that have molded who I am and who I want to be. Some of these experiences were through classes and teachers or mentors. Through them, I have discovered a new passion and have had the opportunity to explore and gain experience in my field. I now see a path that I want to take and have the tools to do so.

Other experiences were through interactions with fellow students and friends. I lost friends that I never would have imagined loosing, and gained some from the most unusual circumstances. I have experienced heartbreak, betrayal, loyalty and love in this short time.

My experiences came from all around me, yet all of them were educational no matter how significant or trivial they seemed at the moment. I have gained understanding and skills that made me a better student, employee, friend, and person. I now understand and accept myself, which was not the case when I first arrived.  However, how has my statue changed?

I can imagine a face fully enhanced with all the knowledge I gained and determination to take on my future. My inner “goddess” is fully grown and embracing my female identity emerges in a fully developed figure. My statue is nearly refined and polished with the right leg slightly forward as I step out of Iowa State and into my future. This leg and foot are the only parts that are not perfected on my statue.  It is to represent the future and how it is still being shaped. I will continue to grow in every stage of my life. I just have to continue to step forward in my life.

By Emily Van Nostrand

Scale: Interior Central Section by Cheryl Goldsleger

            Noted not only for its involved technical process as well as subject matter, Scale: Interior Central Section is a unique artwork created by Cheryl Goldsleger.  Made of layered wax, pigment, graphite and incising, this artwork cannot be claimed as a drawing or painting, but possibly as its own category of form.

This artwork, which was created for Beardshear Hall, is often compared to the complex relationship between Iowa State’s administrative system and the campus bureaucracy.  A jumble of intricate practices, these two interactions are akin to the overlapping lines and forms found in Goldsleger’s work of art.  Beardshear houses these two offices, as they interact and cooperate together, overlapping their own order and logic.

As a student at Iowa State, I can relate to Scale: Interior Central Section in a slightly different light, comparing it to two important moments of my college career.  To me, college is a contained yet infinite space in itself.  As a freshman, I greeted college with an anxious stomach.  My choice to attend college was precise; however, what I was going to gain from college was not yet clear.  When I first saw Goldsleger’s artwork, I too felt uneasy.  The complicated structure looks meticulously conscious and deliberate, yet the form and space feels unknowing. 

As I continued along in my education, I finally gained a major in which to study and also the confidence to pursue it.  Now, as I approach my last year at Iowa State, I have begun to encounter another uncomfortable feeling.  Many students see graduation as a troublesome event, something that will lead us into the “real” world.  It is in this real world that many college graduates will encounter the harsh realities of job applications, interviews, and possible employment rejections.  I see this feeling again in Goldsleger’s piece, as the various spaces are filled with multiple viewpoints.  There is clarity yet a sense of undefined limitation. 

Iowa State has given us structure, but the structure is ours to transform.  What each student gains from college is different, as is what they choose to do in their lives after college. 

            This painting is currently on exhibition in the Christian Petersen Art Museum in Morrill Hall as part of the Subject to Change exhibition.  Spend time looking at Scale: Interior Central Section, and see what feeling and interpretation it has for you.

By Molly Larson

Marriage Ring by Christian Petersen

When getting married one should expect luxurious honeymoons, magic carpet rides, sharing a plate of spaghetti and living happily ever after…

Oh, hold on.  I think I am mixing animated Disney films with reality.  What does one expect when getting married?  Today, the United State’s divorce rate is declining as many individuals wait or choose not to marry.  As a country with a high percentage of marriages ending in divorce, I feel as though the 21st century American marriage is nothing but a romantic idea, a disposable form of affection.

Looking back, early Western Civilizations often used marriage as a form of business.  The two families would arrange the marriage of their son and daughter in order to prosper in their own family relations or solidify their political stance.  Marriage was not of love and care but of collaboration and reproduction.   As seen in Ancient Greece and Rome, marriage was something practical and expected of each man.  A man was often looked down upon if he did not marry a woman or produce child.

In Medieval Europe, Christianity began to spread and transform the idea of marriage.  Highly influenced by the church, marriage could no longer be broken or separated by divorce.  This is also a time in history where the representation of a marriage ring came into play again (as some believe the marriage ring first originated in ancient Egyptian civilizations).  This ring was a symbol of everlasting love, an unbroken unity between man and woman.

Protestant Martin Luther believed marriage was something mature and sophisticated, something only fit for the government’s control.  At the same time, Modern European and American Catholics believed marriage was to be performed in a church, by a priest, with two witnesses.

Today, marriage, as well as divorce, has been liberated from religious laws.  Individuals may marry in any form of presentation they see fit or choose to divorce their spouse at any time they see fit. 

It is clear that marriage has been, and still is to this day, highly influenced by society.  Originally created in 1942 and later reproduced in concrete, Christian Petersen’s Marriage Ring suggests a symbol of marriage from Iowa in the 1940s.  Christian Petersen has a long-standing history at Iowa State University.  He was not only Iowa State’s, as well as the Nation’s, first permanent Artist-in-Residence but also a teacher in the Department of Home Economics at Iowa State.  The Marriage Ring is made of terra cotta and is a sculpture of three children sitting beside a round pool.  The  pool represents the band of a marriage ring, where the children represent the gems or diamonds of the ring.  By making the children the gems it is clear that Petersen valued the unity of  marriage for its creation of family.  In comparing this concept of marriage to the marriages we see today, I value this sculpture, not for its religious beliefs, but for its idea of unity.  It is important to remember that the person one chooses to marry will be the person they spend the rest of their lives with, the person they will consider family and the person they will, possibly, create their own family with. 

By Molly Larson

Sources:

Haeberle, Erwin J. "The Sex Atlas." Magnus Hirschfeld Archive for Sexology. 1981.
        Web. 31 May 2011. <http://www2.hu-berlin.de/sexology/ATLAS_EN/index.html>.

Jayson, Sharon. "Divorce Declining, but so Is Marriage." USA Today. 18 July 2005.
        Web. 31 May 2011. <http://www.usatoday.com/news/nation/2005-07-18-cohabit-divorce_x.htm>.

"Worldwide Divorce Statistics." Divorce.Com. 2011. Web. 31 May 2011.
         <http://www.divorce.com/article/divorce-statistics.>