Off to a new workshop
working at the Judy Pfaff welding class
After watching a colleague piece together a steel structure for my glass and wood sculptures, I wanted to learn to weld. I wanted to create structures for my bird nest and paper sculptures, ones intrinsic to the work itself. I saw Judy Pfaff was teaching a week-long class at Truro Center for the Arts. Having taken an installation class with her previously, I knew it was the class for me. In August, the car loaded with miscellaneous steel bits and pieces scavenged from a scrap metal yard, various tools and sketches and not quite knowing what to expect, I headed to the Cape.
When I take a workshop, I think hard about what it is I want to learn. It must be worth the time, money and effort involved. The skills need to allow me to add another layer to my current work, act as an extension or deepen its meaning. I try to maintain my focus and purpose for being there. I have a tendency, despite initial intentions, to want to complete something with which I can be proud. I can come away from a workshop feeling disappointed, wanting it all now!
Getting acquainted
look at all this gear
August on the Cape; hot and humid. All the more so dressed in denim jeans, composite-toe work boots, welding jacket, helmet and gloves. As soon as I press the welding trigger, the helmet automatically darkens narrowing my focus to a scant couple of inches. I can see only the place where I am welding, through a purplish, sparking, window. My hands in elbow length gloves feel clunky and awkward manipulating lengths of small gauge steel rods. I am not used to the parameters of my own body. Not used to the sharp limiting of my vision. Sweat drips down my back, makes my hands slippery, and my hair, though pulled back, is a damp, messy nest.
As with any new skill, it took time to get acquainted with the basics. Understanding the machinery; steel cutters, blow torches, welding machine, wire tensions, and methods. The first day heavy rains interrupted and forced the stop of work. It wasn’t until day three that I could recognize the hissssss sound signaling I was working correctly and could consistently weld the desired solid pool: a smooth, slightly raised shape, not too high, not splattery, indicating a good weld.
Picking up the skills
I became more comfortable with the equipment, the welding gear, the narrow vision and began to experience the rhythm, sounds and dance of a new process. Judy, as I had experienced before, was insistent on pushing all of us past our fears, and our own mind’s self-imposed limitations. Although witnessing this so many times in other classes, I was still surprised at how each artist was creating unique work with the same new skills.
“I can come away from a workshop feeling disappointed, wanting it all now!”
my Tinguely-like sculpture
Watching others in the making is a great learning tool but can also be a great distraction. It is easy to get excited about other possibilities and get off track. Seeing the large sculptures rising around me, fueled by an earlier local dumpster dive where I collected found treasures of bike gears and chains and wire, I ended up creating a Tinguely-like sculpture. This is nothing I would ordinarily make. It is not something I intended to make. Though it was helpful in learning a wider variety of techniques it is not in line with any of my current work or intentions. Though it is whimsical and makes a lovely musical chime when the wind blows through the steel spines, it is an anomaly to me.
Glimmers of a vision
small sculpture created at the residency
The other small sculpture I created has glimmers of where I wish the work to go. I realize I want to counter sink my steel branches before welding from beneath, that I need more skill in bending and twisting steel with a blow torch, need more practice and patience to improve my knowledge and abilities. I need to find a shop near me where I can weld. Resentment weighs on me as I fall short of my ultimate vision and goal of creating stands for sculptures.
I remind myself this is a learning process, the very first baby steps toward integrating a new skill and material. The lopsided stand, set atop my worktable, reminds me of what the possibilities are, if only I commit myself and my time and energy to learning this process more fully. To trust I will be able to create sculptural pieces that are a seamless part and extension of my artistic ideas and concepts. Viewed from that angle, I feel windows open up and it is exhilarating.
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