WP 3: Rough Draft 1

Dear SANDY,

I speak to you now as a friend, as the time we have spent together that has now spanned several weeks has brought us together. When we first met, I was cautious. I did not open myself up to you as I should have, perhaps because you are set back from our world. I wonder how many people have passed by and simply gave up trying to see the real you because of this box you have been placed in. But I did not give up. At first I stood far away from you, trying to see some big picture of how you fit in this sculpture garden. But that's not what you are meant for. Your creator, Richard McDermott Miller, did not make you so you would fit anywhere because you, my friend, are trapped in defined space. You are a woman who has been trapped by your world of gender wars. This I could see, even from far away. But your features are undefined, your body is plain and not unique from this viewpoint. As I moved around you, I began to see different parts of your construction. I saw how your body language seems to change as my perspective changed.

When I saw you from the front of your framing, I thought you were a sad and almost pathetic individual. All I saw from this perspective was that you are conforming to your entrapment; you have given up fighting and your face speaks of defeat. When I moved closer to you I could see this as well, your head is turned down in weakness. I begin to wonder if you have even tried to fight this, because from where I stand you are encapsulated in two boxes; one of your own doing and one that is imposing itself upon you. Your plight is of your own sadness and wrongdoing, or so it seems from this viewpoint. Seeing you close up from this perspective almost disappoints me and your flaws and scars are disheartening. They stand out to make you appear weaker.

When I was still remaining cautious of becoming close to you I stepped behind your construction and was astonished by the change I saw. Even from a distance, I could tell that you had grown stronger, that you have changed. Your back is arched in pushing against what is trapping you. Your fluid, strong legs are contorting against this stiff, geometric shape that is keeping you in its hold. I move closer to you, to learn from this strong creature. I see your face set in determination to win. I see your hands and feet, overcompensating of your efforts to show how strong you are. I see how your body twists and fights while accepting the scars and flaws that you must take on. This vision makes me proud and want to cry from seeing your efforts so defensively strong. I touch my hand to yours, hoping I can share the strength you are showing. It seems this is the support you need, because you are even stronger when I stand next to you. As a woman, I feel connected by this and the history of strong women in my family, who battled everything from Nazis to depression to divorce, speaks to the history of the oppression you have faced in the year of your creation, 1967.

SANDY, I can only hope that you will keep fighting and will not give up. I can only hope that others who see you will recognize the strength and determination I see in you and that they will not pass you by as another woman who will not or cannot fight. I can only hope that you feel the same way as I do and that you will remember me when I visit you for strength and reassurance. Thank you for all that you have taught me and for your perseverance.