AJ Alanson Author

Back in my college days, I had a professor explain on the first day of his graduate class why he wore a tie to lecture – respect for his audience. If you know geologists, and especially sleep-deprived grad students, you would know that even back then, most students showed up to class in rumpled tee-shirts and faded Levis, – as did some profs. But not Dr. Lisenbee, always sporting a crisps shirt, often a corduroy blazer, and of course, a simple tie. He felt that in order for respect to be reciprocated, it needed to start with him, as the leader, if only for a petrology lecture. I don’t know how much petrology stuck, but his theory of decorum has never left me. Beyond today’s cautionary tale writ large across the political and social landscape as to why Dr. Lisenbee’s simple act contained a wisdom far beyond Earth’s evolution, I’ve found a more resounding meaning in his efforts.

Effort.

Well, effort and authenticity, but that’s for another post. Dr. Lisenbee’s efforts weren’t always reciprocated, but in person, and eager to pass the class, most students were well-behaved, while behind his back, grumbles were rampant due to his impossibly dense content and iron fisted grading. And when the disgruntled felt they were anonymous, at lease to him, they turned into trolls. Dr. Lisenbee knew this, and still wore the tie.

The sculpture below is called “Cornered.” I’ve talked about her before along with her two previous sculptures in the series, “Chipped Away” and “Sucker Punched.” I was angry after this last political cycle but I never want to stay that way so I habitually turn to art to express my poorly-formed thoughts, raw, disorganized emotions, and partial words of a wounded soul, and I don’t quit until it’s off, out, down, or washed away. Admittedly, it took a thousand tiny chips and curls of wood, but the series, and the sentiment, is complete. It just took a little effort.