As we all know, the journey to the Ruth Asawa gallery was quite…tumultuous for me, to say the least. Between almost fainting on the way there and trying to keep my composure to ensure I didn’t keel over right in the middle of the gallery in front of all its patrons, I understandably wasn’t able to see much of Asawa’s work. However, my body so generously offered me a 5 minute grace period before nearly sending me crashing to the ground, and in those 5 minutes of seeing her work and then 30 minutes of sitting there, I contemplated quite a lot. So, perhaps it all worked out after all!
(Also, thank you to everyone who checked up on me during and afterwards. It meant a lot to me!)
As I walked (sluggishly) through the first room and saw one of her wire sculptures dangling from the ceiling like a chandelier, I immediately thought of the interview we read about Ruth Asawa. Asawa stated that the very thing that fascinated her about the usage of three-dimensional lines in her work was that there were no constraints. On a piece of paper, you are far more limited in the ways you can manipulate lines and shapes. She preferred sculpture because she could make those lines go “anywhere.” 
And then — it struck me (although not literally, because then that would’ve definitely sent me flying to the floor).
In her youth, Asawa was constantly confronted by limitations and obstacles. Growing up in an internment camp, she had minimal opportunities for growth and expansion within her confinement, and so any opportunity, big or small, was met eagerly by young Asawa.
As soon as I saw her work in person, it suddenly clicked as to why she chose sculpture. Her work acts as a projection of her inner spirit, her adventurous nature, and perhaps even some of her desires she had as a child. Unlike in her youth, the line sculptures could be manoeuvred to go anywhere without limit or restriction. Asawa had grown up with many restraints — it makes sense that she would not want the limitations of paper to obstruct her in her artwork, and in choosing sculpture, it gave her the freedom to do what she pleased.
With each twist of a wire, I am reminded of each roadblock Asawa surpassed in her lifetime. As the wires grow outwards, I think of Asawa’s imagination finally being given the room to expand and explore, unimpeded and free. If the wire sculptures are representative of anything, I surely think it’s of Asawa herself — she has proven that the limitations she faced couldn’t stop her, and I believe her work truly exemplifies her fervent spirit. Her sculptures take many shapes and forms — I think that the myriad of differences is representative of her free will to manipulate and power to construe in any which way desired. The possibilities in detail of these wire sculptures are limitless, and I think that’s the idea that Asawa was striving for each time. Even though each piece is unique, there is still a million ways it could be made different.
The possibilities are infinite. Asawa has proven that both within her work and within her life.
