As these things often do, it all started with a seemingly innocent idea that turned out to be incredibly dangerous. After my needle felting project, I got what I thought was a brilliant suggestion from my husband when he jokingly pointed at a package of steel wool on the table and said that I should try felting that next. Being someone who loves to use things in ways they were never intended, I thought this was a great idea and was even happier when I tried it and found it worked wonderfully. And what creatures do you make with steel wool? Why, robots, of course! And if you’re going to make steel wool robots, you’d better wire them with LED eyes. And so I started off on what I thought would be a fantastic project. I bought the finest steel wool I could find. I ordered bronze wool to use as an accent color. I bought hundreds of clearance sale LED Christmas lights, and different kinds of switches and batteries. I started cutting up soda cans to use as a kind of breast plate to feature the switches and knobs on the robot’s chest. I was really excited until I came across a little piece of information that stopped me dead in my tracks. Apparently, steel wool + battery = FIRE.
This was a problem. I had visions of my cute little robot friends being responsible for unspeakable carnage. Could I really sell artwork that had the potential to burst into flames? In the end, the answer was no. Not wanting to ditch the entire project, I decided I had to abandon either the steel wool or the LEDs. Due to the further complication of the steel wool being prone to rust, I decided that that was the ingredient to eliminate. I would have to find some other material to make up the bodies. So, what to replace it with?
Last summer I taught an art class with a group of kids from an arts organization called Little Black Pearl. Since I work for an environmental organization, I tried to come up with a project envolving recycled objects. In doing my research for this, I came across these fabulous assemblage butterflies by Michelle Stitzlein and fell in love with them. From that moment on, I was itching to give it a try, but I would have to figure out a way to do it that would not be a rip off of her work.
Wanting to go the assemblage with salvaged objects route but still not quite sure of my plans, I went to ReStore – a fabulous thrift store run by Habitat for Humanity that is filled with every type of building supply you can imagine. That’s when I stumbled upon track lights. It’s funny when you really take a look at something you’ve seen a million times and suddenly see a new potential. Instead of a light, I suddenly say a body, neck and head. The head even moved up and down and could twist from side to side. It was perfect. I picked up a couple different styles and also grabbed a bunch of random items that caught my eye including some casters, pipe clamps, and tiny bolts. My next step was to clean out my kitchen drawers and cabinets, where I managed to liberate several pairs of tongs, a mellon baller, my spare cocktail shaker, a can opener, two wine openers, and lots of other random stuff that I had never used.
Next, I laid everything out on the counter and held things up to eachother, trying to figure out what to do. That’s when I noticed the pasta tongs that were just screaming to be antlers. I took them out the shop and sawed them off their handles with a hack saw and ground down the cut edge at the grinder (a tool I got when cleaning out my dad’s garage, having no idea what I would ever use it for). Then I took the pieces over to the drill press that my husband had picked out of the garbage last spring (yes, an industrial drill press – it was the best dumpster dive ever!) and was able to easily drill holes to attach them to the “head” of the track light. And so it went. One piece at a time the creatures took shape.
Though it seemed I was on to something, there was still something missing - there was no color. Everything I was using was either white or black, silver or brass. Now, I love neutrals, but only as a backdrop to a punch of strong color. The last thing I wanted to do was discover that I had just built a blank canvas that needed to be painted. There are plenty of artists who are painting 3D “toys”, and I’ve heard from friends of mine doing this that it is roughly the equivilent of painting a 20x20 canvas. I had no desire to tripple my work, not to mention the fact that this just wasn’t what I was going for. But still, they needed something. That’s when I remembered the Monster Boxes I made last year – metal boxes covered in felt. Why not just use fabric? Afterall, I often work in fabric, and am very comfortable with it. I decided to go with brightly colored fur, covering only the torso sections so that all of the attached parts would still be recognizable.
Once the fur was in place, they seemed to come alive. They were cuddly, yet still industrial. Cute and still a bit dangerous - perfect. I was so happy with the group that I did something I’ve never had the guts to do before – I applied to a gallery show. And was accepted. It was a real whirlwind – I had one week from being notified to hanging, and then a few days to the show. The show was called TOYth, and was for a new non-profit here in Chicago called Prak-Sis that uses empty spaces and turns them into temporary galleries. It was so strange to be hanging my own work instead of someone elses, but it was really great to have finally done something I’ve always wanted to do.
The show’s down now (it was only a one night event), and I’m trying to decide my next move. Do I try to get them into other shows? Do I list them for sale on Etsy? Do I make more? Do I move on to another project? It’s all happened so fast, I’m a little at a loss for what to do next. I think I’ll try a couple of other galleries, and if they don’t pan out in the next couple of weeks, I’ll go for Etsy. If a gallery responds, I could always pull them off Etsy or make more if they have sold in the meantime.
