Wire man


My friend Sarah L and I share a peculiar quality. We both possess a strange type (not quantity, this is important) of confidence in our ability at tasks we have never attempted. We both assume that’s we’re automatically good at things. And for the most part, it’s true. (High five, Sarah.)

Like the time she sent me this:

“Do we have the talent?” One of us asked.

“Maybe combined,” was the slightly more confident reply.

“I think combined we might have 105% of the talent required,” was the even more confident reply to that.

I approached wire sculpture in much the same way. I had this floral wire lying around (for reasons that I cannot begin to get into (see Dark Period of My Life)), and I happened to be holding a small pair of green needle nose pliers. I set to it.

I don’t for a moment believe my creation is good—it is a mangled mess of wire and balance that probably doesn’t obey any of the laws of traditional wire sculpture and somehow manages to resemble a shape, and stand upright and ask a question namely “Is Man Made Out of Wire?”

I actually think it’s brilliant. Imagine if I made a second one.