Between the Bars we Built

Lately, I’ve been thinking about how people and groups believe they’re fighting tyranny, only to end up caged by their own ideology. It’s a paradox that exists everywhere: politics, schools, even friendships. Everyone points to the other side as the source of confinement, never realizing the bars are just as solid on their own side.

What exists is a mock-up for a future sculpture. Inside the birdcage, an obvious symbol of captivity, perches two lifeless plastic birds, imitating life never flying. Each side stares at the other in outrage, living in two separate lives when in reality they’re simply separated by plexiglass in the same cage. Staring in contempt at the other side. Consumed and surrounded by their political or ideological color, never assuming these beliefs has simply caged them, preventing true freedom to explore nuance and wonder. Blinded by bias, imprisoned by ideology. 

This small mock-up is simply an impromptu idea when looking at the old cage in my garage one day. I imagine an installation people could actually walk into—a giant wooden cage, plexiglass wall in the middle. Step inside, choose your side, stare across at strangers who picked the opposite half. You can see them, maybe even shout at them, but the wall remains. You’re both still trapped.

For me, the piece speaks to our age of division, but also to something more universal: the way we all build cages for ourselves. Beliefs, roles, even professions. I know it in my own job as a teacher—I have to wear a mask, suppress edges, stay polished in ways that feel confining. But unlike the birds, I get to step out.

That’s what makes this both funny and sad to me. The bars are ours. The walls are plexiglass. The birds aren’t even real. And yet, how often do we treat the illusion as reality, mistaking our chosen walls for freedom?

Between the Bars We Built exists a boomerang of political manipulation. Clearly, both parties deploy narratives, emotion, and tribal identity to win votes, even from people who stand to lose most. The soy farmer, feeling betrayed by trade wars or subsidies lost, still voted red because he was buying into a promise of dignity, voice, and power. That promise, though, comes with strings, and once pulled, those strings tighten into cages.

That’s the heart of my Two Cages sculpture concept: two sides blaming each other for captivity, while the real bars are their own making. Each bird looks across the divider, pointing outward, not realizing it’s the very walls they embraced that now bind them. The irony is painful: in resisting a cage, they built one with slogans and mirrors.

This piece isn’t a left vs. right accusation; it’s a reflection on how identity and ideology, when weaponized, imprison us all. The lines between oppressor and freedom fighter blur when both sides adopt the tactics they claim to hate. We’re all walking inside cages made of our convictions and our beliefs about “the other. Each side creates villains, injustices, and wars to fight to provide meaning to our existence. Ignoring the nuances of issues, ignoring the fact that there are no solutions, only tradeoffs. 

The question is, when will you open the door and fly out into a vast spectrum of color?