So, the irony isn’t lost on me. Some of my metal sculptures could derail a freight train. Chihuly, Morris and the rest of the glass artists down the road have to tread lightly just to bring their art safely to the light of day.

Maybe that’s why I’m drawn to metal.

At the risk of sounding like yet another pompous artist, I like to imagine that my angular, grave, darkly monochromatic pieces are carrying on a conversation with the effervescent, colorful, ballet-like glass pieces I see all around me. Something like the repartee between Bogart and Hepburn in The African Queen.

Because I’m usually outside in my valet uniform or in the garage, I don’t ordinarily see Hotel Murano’s glass art. Sometimes after work I’ll change into my street clothes and walk the halls. Each floor (and there are 26 of them) has its own unique glass art display, so there’s a lot to see. A lot of thought has been invested into them with regard to their presentation and lighting, so they’re shown off to good effect.

By contrast, metal work is all too often stuck in a garden, basically being used as a glorified planter (ugh!). I dream of one day custom-creating a work for a client and being given total control over its placement, lighting, presentation, etc. Right now, my work is presented in the context of a non-running Dodge Dart, boxes of Goodwill-destined clothes that haven’t been moved in years and lawn care implements. In other words, my current gallery space is Tad’s dad’s garage.

later,

Josh

Comments Feed