What's New in the New Year

         New month, new year, and still as busy as ever.  Plenty of the things keeping me so busy are of no interest or relevance to this blog, of course, and unfortunately plenty of those things are keeping me too busy to do any writing in the last couple of months, which I’m not so happy about.  But there has been plenty of activity on the art front, so I thought I’d share some of what I’ve been up to in that department.

        First of all, I finished two new pieces just under the wire in 2022.  First of these is another steampunk creature.  Steampunk’s popularity has been waning and it’s no longer the hot trend it was, but I still like it!  (It’s always been a bit of a puzzle to me how people can be so fickle in their likes.  Do you actually like something, or don’t you?  But that’s beside the point.)  However, steampunk is still around enough that I finally got the opportunity to apply for a booth at a local steampunk festival.  I’ll find out later this month whether I was accepted, but in the meantime I got inspired enough to make this steam-powered insectivore.  I started with a base of the 1804 steam engine by Richard Trevithick, which had come to my attention last spring, and is featured in this previous post.  Then I had to decide what creature could best be combined with this steam engine.  I thought the large flywheel should match up with a large 

round haunch.  A bear would be the right shape, with its hindquarters higher than its shoulder, but I thought it would be funnier to imagine a whole steam engine miniaturized in a small beastie.  And really when you start to think about it, you can see at once how well-suited Trevithick’s engine is to power an elephant shrew.  I’ve been delighted by the black and rufous elephant shrew ever since encountering them at a zoo nearly fifteen years ago, and this was the perfect opportunity to feature one!  As with my other steampunk creations, I like to imagine a bit of back story about the invention of this little mechanical companion, and in this case it was created, of course, for pest control.  Let this little critter keep your home free of cockroaches and other unwanted insects!  (Admittedly, it’s a bit of a fire hazard, and it may spew a bit of coal smoke…  But hey, those Victorian-era inventors never allowed themselves to be held back by minor details like that.)

        Then there’s a very different piece, also completed just before the new year, but actually the end point of a very long history.  It is made of two separate blocks, and the black block - just the outlines of the place setting - was carved twenty years ago in 2002 or 2003.  (Oh my goodness, “twenty years ago”… I almost gave myself a heart attack just thinking about it!)  But it was, frankly, boring, and I never printed it.  Then about a year or so ago I rediscovered the block and started thinking about how I might do something fun with it.  I considered watercoloring a background, and I considered printing it on patterned paper…  But eventually, after long, intermittent mulling, I decided to carve a second block to go with it.  I’m kind of obsessed with blue and white china, and blue and white tablecloths for my dining room, so obviously that’s what sort of place setting this was going to be.  As usual, registration (lining up the two blocks) was the hardest part, so I ended up having to print and discard a ton of extras that didn’t come out.  But in the end I am pretty pleased with it.  But then, I may be biased, what with my blue-and-white obsession.  We’ll see whether the rest of the world likes it!

        I began the new year with a bang, hanging a solo show at the Newton Public Library on the third.  I managed to fit 38 pieces into the exhibit space, for a show entitled Wonders Everywhere.  The theme is really just the theme of all the art I ever do!  The show will be up through the month of January.

        Meanwhile I was already starting preparations for the Arisia art show, which will be up at the Boston Westin Waterfront Hotel January 13-16 during the convention.  I plan to hang no fewer than 60 pieces on my allotted panels.  Yes, I know, I know, you shouldn’t overcrowd your display… People can focus on and admire each individual piece better if there’s space around… It will all look more clean and slick and professional if it’s not a big jumble… Viewers can get a better sense of how a piece might look hanging on their own wall… Less is more… I know, I know, and I believe it all.  But I just can’t help myself.  If I bring fewer pieces, people will see fewer pieces.  And they can’t enjoy what they never saw.  So I shrug and fit in as many pieces as I can.  Which means that this month I need to have just shy of 100 pieces of art framed and hung simultaneously, which is why the past couple of weeks I have been madly matting and framing and laying out arrangements of art all over the floor.  But I’m on the home stretch now, and looking forward to Arisia.

        Meanwhile, all the December shows are over, so yesterday I had to drive out and pick up pieces from a show in Lexington, while tomorrow I’ll have to drive in and pick up a piece from a show in Jamaica Plain.

        Meanwhile, work is beginning to ramp back up in organizing Strong Women-Strange Worlds author readings (I’ll be one of the authors presenting my work on March 3) and organizing Needham Open Studios (which will be May 6-7).

        Meanwhile, I’m not getting any writing done, but I certainly can’t complain that I don’t have enough to keep me busy!  (And I am trying to keep up-to-date with submissions of the stories and poems I do have.)  For my next creative endeavor I have to think of some little block to carve as a demo during workshops at Arisia.  Any ideas?

[Pictures: Steam-Powered Insectivore, rubber block print by AEGN, 2022;

Trevithick’s Locomotive, wood engraving (by H.W. Benno?) from The Progress of Invention in the Nineteenth Century by Edward W. Byrn, 1900 (Image from Internet Archive);

Black and rufous elephant shrew, photo by AEGN, 2009;

A Place at the Table, rubber block print from two blocks, AEGN, 2022.]

Fantascycles?

         The first two-wheeled, human-powered steerable machine was invented in 1817.  It was powered by a rider pushing it along with his (yes, usually his) feet, but inventors were soon going nuts with two, three, and four wheels, and peddles, treadles, and hand cranks in various permutations.  By the 1860s the famous (or infamous) boneshakers appeared, followed by high-wheeled penny-farthing bicycles in the 1870s, and finally “safety” bicycles that were more-or-less our modern bicycle design appeared in the 1880s.  And throughout all this time and beyond, inventors were full of brilliant ideas of how to adapt and improve the bicycle concept and cash in on its promise and popularity.  Many of these inventions can only be considered “steam”punk science fiction, even if their hopeful inventors thought they had a future in reality.

        The epicycle (1896) and the motor-monocycle (1905) both explored the benefits of suspending the rider within one huge wheel.  This would allow great speed, plus the monocycle was alleged to “fall” forward rather than pushing against the ground, thus allowing it to travel over any terrain including loose sand.  ‘“It bounds over rocks and other obstacles,” declares its inventor, “with as much ease as a horse trained to jump.”’

        Of course military use always drives invention, and the cavalry of the future was expected to use bicycles.  I do like the idea that the Harveyized steel wheels of the armored war cycle (1900) can be used as shields when the soldier dismounts and “transforms himself in a moment [from] motorman to sharpshooter.”  As for the Humbrecht’s dicycle (1896), its two wheels are mounted side-by-side instead of in a line, and its military use consists in its ability to carry a fair amount of baggage, as well as its inability to be killed by a bullet like a horse.  But its utility is not confined to the military, “as it is especially adapted to those who do not care to go to the trouble of learning to ride a bicycle, and… As there is no straddling necessary, the modesty due to the ladies is always present… and no unbecoming bloomers or short skirts are necessary.”

        But why confine the use of bicycles to the ground?  I offer you the ice cycle (1899), which has both spiked tires and runners, and seats no fewer than eight eager cyclists.  Inventor “Mr. Lenz proposes at the trial exhibition to have all eight seats of the machine occupied by a bevy of girl riders.  He rightly judges that they will enhance the attractions of the occasion.”   Or how about the aerial bicycle (1896), which travels on a rail.  According to the press release, “the problem of rapid transit has been solved.”

        And most useful of all, the submarine bicycle (1896), with which “new contrivance [the diver] can pedal about at any desired distance above the bottom…  How pleasant it would be to construct a sextuplet submarine bicycle… [with] a brilliant electric light, that would enable three couples to go bike-riding under water, instead of taking moonlight rides on the surface…  It would only be a question of a short time until charts of the underwater route to adjacent summer resorts would be on sale.”  Who says a fish doesn’t need a bicycle!  The article which introduces this wonder to an eager public also mentions in passing, “We have had plans for wheelmen to ride to and from the clouds and to ride underground in cycle tunnels.  There have been bicycle railways and bicycle boats…”  I’m just sorry I don’t have more information about all of those, as well!

[Pictures: Epicycle, illustration from The Marble Hill Press, July 23, 1896;

Motor-Monocycle, illustration from The Cook County Herald, July 15, 1905;

Armored War Cycle, illustration from The Deseret Evening News, September 22, 1900;

Humbrecht’s Dicycle (Cavalry of the Future), illustration from The Barton County Democrat, May 13, 1897;

Ice Cycle (The New Ice Wonder), illustration from The Dupuyer Acantha, April 27, 1899;

Aerial Bicycle, illustration from The San Francisco Call, August 19, 1896;

The Submarine Bicycle, illustration from The San Francisco Call, November 22, 1896 (All images from Lumberwoods, with thanks for compiling these!)]

Here's Something Cool: Mechanical Birds

        It’s time for another selection of gorgeous steampunky sculptures, and this time I have for you two artists whose birds come out quite different in style, but who both assemble their sculptures from very specific found objects.

        Jeremy Mayer made these swallows entirely from parts of old typewriters.  They include absolutely nothing that isn’t from the typewriters - not even glue or solder.  The outer stretch of the wings can fan in and out, which makes them seem that much more like robots or automatons rather than mere objects d’art.  What’s so much fun about them is that the typewriter parts are not in any way disguised or transformed, they’re very clearly still recognizable typewriter parts, and yet when assembled in this way they simultaneously become 100% swallows.

        Matt Wilson (aka Airtight Artwork), on the other hand, builds his birds almost entirely from silverware, adding only a bit of wire and sometimes other bits of scrap metal, and mounting them on wood.  These are certainly art sculptures, not robots(!), but they share with Mayer’s swallows that incredible property of reusing objects intended for something entirely different, and yet making them seem as if they must have been designed precisely for
their current spot.  The curves of spoons, the serrations of knife blades, the feathers - I mean
tines - of the forks…  Wilson’s birds are also amazing for what they don’t include.  There is often quite a bit of negative space in his designs, hollow areas, details left out, and yet they include everything necessary to capture the perfect essence of titmouse, nuthatch, or wren.  The other thing I find great about them is that they’re made from very ordinary, junky silverware.  I’ve seen plenty of lovely things made from lovely antique silver spoons, but it’s all the more wonderful to make such objects of beauty from something that really doesn’t seem at all beautiful before its transformation.

        Both of these artists have the wonderful gift of seeing the beautiful potential in something not very beautiful, and of course they also both have the gift of being able to make that transformation so that the rest of us can see it, too.  Charms, transfiguration, or illusion, it’s surely some kind of magic.

        (See some previously posted cool Mechanical Treasures here.)

[Pictures: Typewriter part swallows, assembled sculptures by Jeremy Mayer, c 2013 (Images from Colossal);

Silverware birds, sculptures by Matt Wilson, c 2017 (Images from Colossal and My Modern Met).]

Here's Something Cool: Fenghuang

        I like mythical creatures, and I like sculptures made from found mechanical bits and pieces, and these phoenixes check both boxes on a massive scale.  I featured the artist Xu Bing earlier this year for his wood block prints, but these sculptures begin to give you an idea of the breadth and variety of his artwork.  The two phoenixes are made from materials collected from construction sites in China.  At 90 and 100 feet long, they’re almost more roc than phoenix!

        The Chinese phoenix is called "fenghuang," and originally feng was male and huang female, which is what Xu has named his two huge sculptures.  Although fenghuang is given the English translation “phoenix,” the only thing they really have in common is being magical, mythical birds.  The fenghuang lives on the Kunlun Mountains in northern China and appears only in places blessed with exceptional peace and happiness.  It became associated with the empress, to pair with the dragon representing the emperor, and now the paired dragon and phoenix are often used in wedding decorations to symbolize the perfect union between husband and wife.  (“Dragon and phoenix” is also a common item on Chinese menus.  In the USA it’s a dish that combines chicken with seafood.  Additional fun fact: my children P and T are “dragon and phoenix children,” i.e. boy-girl twins.)  In any case, the fenghuang represents all sorts of auspicious virtues.

        Xu’s Feng and Huang represent the cultural changes brought on by rapid development in China, and they’re a reaction to the terrible conditions experienced by migrant construction workers in China.  Xu said of his phoenixes, “They bear countless scars.  [They have] lived through great hardship, but they still have self-respect.  In general, the phoenix expresses unrealized hopes and dreams.”  You can see that they’re entirely composed of salvaged construction materials: rusty metal, battered hard hats, ductwork tubing, backhoe buckets, and so on.  I haven’t seen these sculptures in person, alas, but from the photos I’d say they don’t seem so grim to me.  They look quite powerful and transcendent.

[Pictures: Phoenix installation at MassMoCA, sculptures by Xu Bing, 2013 (Image from The Daily Gazette);

Feng at Cathedral of St John the Divine, sculpture by Xu, 2014 (Image from Bobby Zuco);

Huang at Mass MoCA, sculpture by Xu, 2013, (Image from Colossal).]

Here's Something Cool: Computer Bugs

        Check out these cool insects made from old circuit boards and other computer bits.  In common with so many of the other more steampunky sculptures that I like, they are a way of salvaging trash, turning something discarded into something beautiful, and commenting on just how much we throw away and waste.  The built-in obsolescence of electronics makes it even more of an issue with these components.  Still, these are mostly wonderful for their own sake.  And resistors make such perfect insect legs!

        Julie Alice Chappell (UK) scavenges bits and pieces from computers, video game systems, DVD players, and other electronic devices.  I’ve been known to save circuit boards and other bits and pieces, too, just because they’re so visually appealing.  I have yet to turn them into anything beautiful, though.
        I’m not sure how the wings get transparent.  Do they come that way, in a sort of circuit board I haven’t yet seen?  Or does Chappell do something to them?  Either way, the filigree of circuitry translates wonderfully into insect wings, and Chappell does a great job matching other components to other insectoid body parts.  I find the head of the top dragonfly particularly wonderful.

        Some of her insects are fairly straightforward impressions of real species, but others are much more fantastical.  I love that the second dragonfly has three sets of wings and two sets of antennae.  The last example here has its own odd proportions in the placement of wings and antennae that add to its charm.  I find these very appealing, and hope you enjoy them, too.

[Pictures: Computer Component Bugs, sculptures by Julie Alice Chappell, c 2015;

The Silvery Dragonfly, sculpture by Chappell;

The Elegant, Triple Winged “Through the Looking Glass” Samsung Insect, sculpture by Chappell, 2017;

Computer Component Bug, sculpture by Chappell, c 2015, (Images from This Is Colossal, My Modern Met, and Chappell’s Etsy Shop DewLeaf).]

The Fantastic Leonardo

        Leonardo da Vinci (Italy, 1452-1519) is known as an artist and a scientist, and an all-around Great Mind.  He was clearly also a fan of speculative fiction.  Speculative fiction didn’t exist as such in the fifteenth century, of course, but what else do you call an interest in inventing inventions that can’t possibly be built with present technology?  Or sketching from life the habits of animals that don’t exist outside the imagination?  Or then again, perhaps Leonardo wasn’t making these things up.  Maybe he really did have flying machines and all manner of other magical devices.  Maybe he really did draw his dragons from life.  In the sequel to The Extraordinary Book of Doors (one of my current “works in progress” that isn’t getting much work or progress, alas) I’ve discovered that Leonardo would have had access to a mythical beast sanctuary patronised by his own patron, Francis I of France and Francis’s good friend the Abbess of Tarascon.

        At any rate, over the winter vacation we went to an exhibit about Leonardo da Vinci at the museum of science.  It had a lot of 3-D models built to replicate sketches from his notebooks, and these were wonderfully pre-steam-punky and proto-sci-fi for sure.  Alas, there was no mention of the bestiary Leonardo wrote, which includes entries on the basilisk, dragon, unicorn, phoenix, jaculus, and lots more.  After extensive on-line searching for digitised copies or pictures of the sketches that illustrated these writings, I’m beginning to suspect that perhaps Leonardo didn’t illustrate his bestiary at all.  So here for you to enjoy are some of his unconnected drawings of creatures.  

        This first dragon is sure proof that Leonardo visited the mythical beast sanctuary.  See how Chinese this dragon’s head is?  Where would an Italian man in France see an Asian dragon unless he travelled through an enchanted doorway to a garden in China?… which just happens to be the location of the sanctuary maintained by the Abbess of Tarascon.  Moreover, the fur is a unique touch, clearly not something that you would make up from traditional legends - ergo it must be drawn from life.

        This little dragon, on the other hand, is of European stock, but just a hatchling, no larger than the cats with which it plays.  During the renaissance dragons were generally considered symbolic, but this one is obviously an active part of the household or barnyard where Leonardo was sketching.
        Leonardo was clearly a man who was not only intensely curious about the observable facts of nature, but also equally enthusiastic about the visions of his imagination.  I believe this is a common theme among the most creative thinkers throughout history.

[Pictures: Two mechanical models based on sketches by Leonardo da Vinci, photos by AEGN;

Study of a dragon, pen and ink and metalpoint sketch by Leonardo, 1513 (Image from Universal Leonardo);

Detail from Cats, lions, and a dragon, pen and ink wash over black chalk by Leonardo, c 1513-15.

Young woman seated with a unicorn, pen and ink sketch by Leonardo, 1479 (Image from Universal Leonardo).]

Here's Something Cool: Cypher Book

        From time to time I come across nifty things that catch my fancy, and I file them away for possible future sharing.  But many of them never seem to fit into a particular theme, or I don’t really have enough information for a substantive post, and I never end up sharing them after all.  Well, all that is about to end.  I hereby initiate a new category of blog posts: Here’s Something Cool!

        First up is a sixteenth century cypher machine in the shape of a book.  This is emblazoned with the arms of Henri II of France, so presumably was made for him or his agents, but more than that I cannot tell you.  The object is in the collection of the Musée Renaissance in the Chateau de’Écouen, but a search of the museum’s website reveals no additional pictures or information, so I am left with nothing but questions.  How was this cypher machine used?  Half the dials have Roman numerals, while the other half appear to be blank, except for a single C or crescent on each one.  The large dial on the left is marked with numerals, and spins within a ring of letters.  The whole thing is in the shape of a book.  Is it disguised as a book, or merely whimsically decorated in that shape?  Was it used for serious espionage, or novelty entertainment?  Who invented it and who made it?  Henri II was the inventor of the patent, or at least the first government to introduce the idea of patents for inventions.  Does this mean he was particularly interested in inventions, or particularly supportive of inventors?  If there’s a patent for this cypher machine, no one’s mentioned it.

        Henri’s mistress, favorite, and veritable co-ruler was Diane de Poitiers, whose emblem was the crescent moon.  It can hardly be coincidence that this device is decorated so lavishly with crescents, as spokes on the dials, etched between all the dials, and so on.  Does that indicate that Henri and Diane used this encoder for their private communication, or that it was made for Diane’s use in her own political and diplomatic endeavors, or simply that the craftsman figured Henri would be pleased to see Diane’s emblem along with his own?

        In another fun note, Henri II was the son of Francis I for whom, according to my fantasy, The Extraordinary Books of Doors were made.  Since Francis died before their completion, it was to Henri II that Sebastiano Serlio would have presented his magical masterpiece.  So, did Henri take after his father in having a particular predilection for magical devices disguised as ordinary books?  It certainly is fun to speculate.

        As for this Cool Thing, its design is beautiful, its workmanship is impressive, and its history is just a a big, fascinating question mark.

[Picture: French cypher machine in the shape of a book, between 1547-1559 (Image from Wikimedia Commons).]

Blueprint

        Here’s the latest art, something I’d been imagining for quite some time but just completed and printed this week.  Traditionally blueprints are actually cyanoprints - sun prints just like the ones you may have made as a child by laying objects on the specially treated paper and leaving it in the sun to expose.  This method of reproduction was devised long before modern photocopying, and even longer before scanning and using digital reproductions, and was used to make accurate copies of architectural  and engineering designs.  Designs were drawn on relatively thin, translucent paper, and when the original drawing was laid over the blueprint paper, the ink or pencil of the drawing blocked the sun more than the plain paper.  The blueprint, therefore, is a negative of the original, where black shows up white and white shows up blue.

        I thought of carving a faux blueprint design because I love old architectural and engineering designs, and because I thought it would work really well to carve the white lines into a block and print in blue ink.  My design is based on old patent applications, which may not be historically accurate as the drawings that were most likely to be copied into blueprints in the nineteenth century, but it bundled into the mix another fun historical aspect.  There have been some pretty cool, wacky devices that applied for patents in the past few centuries!  Naturally I wanted my patent application blueprint to be for some sort of cool steampunk critter, and I invented this device for cleaning steam pipes.  It’s a lizard-type robot that can crawl through pipes and conduits under its own steam.  Different attachments are available to fasten onto its tail tip.  Fig. 1A shows the standard pipe-cleaning brush, but other pages of the design (alas, now missing) would have shown other possible attachments, such as different sized brushes, augers, a wire- or cable-laying spool, and so on.  Other pages also showed all the details of the device’s interior construction.  Some details worth noting on the design are the access panels in the head and body, the full range of motion and flexibility in the legs and tail allowing the device to maneuver through tight and crooked spaces, and the specially designed pads of the feet allowing the device to cling even to smooth surfaces for vertical ascension.  The patent was taken out by Cyril R. Twembly, but records show that he and his wife Henrietta E. Twembly were equal collaborators in invention.

        As for my carving, the design obviously was heavy on the words and numbers, which are always hard for me.  Mostly I’m pretty happy with it, although the date came out rather messy.  The filing words in the upper left corner didn’t transfer properly onto the rubber and had to be done without guidance, hence also being a little messier.  I also should have put in some scale measurements, which I forgot about until afterwards.  Not being a perfectionist, it wasn’t worth it to me to carve and reprint the whole edition.  Finally, a real blueprint would be unlikely to have so much white, since no one would color in the whole body black in their original drawing.  However, I thought it looked better to have a bit more balance of white, so once again “accuracy” gave way to aesthetics.

        So, if you’re ever in an old building and hear the faint, metallic clink and scuffle of something in the pipes, you never know…  you may be able to discover one of the few conduit-navigating saurians ever constructed by Twembly & Twembly.

[Picture: A Device for Cleaning Steam Pipes, rubber block print by AEGN, 2016.]

Pyrotechnics

        In honor of the New Year, I have today some images of interesting fireworks effects from the seventeenth century.  Alas, these are engravings not wood block prints, but I still think they’re pretty cool.  The first two are from a book the full title of which is Pyrotechnia, Or a Discourse of artificiall Fire workes for Pleasure, In which the true grounds of the Art are plainely and perspicuously laid down, together with sundry such Motions both straight and circular, performed by the helpe of Fire, as are not to be found in any Other Discourses of this kinde extant in any Language, Whereunto is annexed a short Treatise of Geometry with the extraction of the Square Roote to 25000 and the Cubicke Roote to 20000 performed by ocular inspection, Written by John Babington, Citisen of London.  It’s a good thing we no longer roll the blurb and the title into one!

        The interesting thing about these fireworks is that they aren’t really all about the fire.  They involve extremely complicated sets and models which are animated by fire.  The wyvern isn’t made of fire, but shoots fire out of multiple orifices, and is also designed to shoot along a cable, propelled by fire.  (Although in this particular image it looks like the thrust would be stronger pushing the creature backwards than forwards.)  The two griffins are presumably made to shoot out of their caves as if to battle one another.  What I don’t get a sense of from these sketches (not having bothered to read the accompanying text) is how big these things are. 

        The final firework creature is a much more dramatic engraving from another source, being intended to illustrate the scene rather than to guide in understanding the principles of construction.  I love the dark background and inky smoke billowing all around this fierce, fiery lion.  (Unfortunately, it isn’t a very big image and I can’t make out any of the writing down below, which might have given me an artist’s name or other information.)

        May 2016 be like these fireworks: full of beauty, magic, and light!

[Pictures: Firework wyvern, engraving by Io Droeshout(?) from Pyrotechnia by John Babington, 1635;

Firework griffins, engraving by Droeshout(?) from Pyrotechnia by Babington, 1635 (Images from Linda Hall Library);

The Reception of the King and Queen in the City of Lyon, engraving for which I can’t discover the artist or source, 1624 (Image from abeautifulbook).]

Steampunk Clock

        This summer I found a wind-up wall clock at our local thrift store, and bought it with the thought of disassembling it for gears and other cool clockwork steampunk parts.  However, when I discovered that it was in perfect working order, with a nice Westminster chime, no less, I couldn’t destroy it.  On the other hand, it was an exceptionally ugly clock of prime 1973 vintage.  I regret that I stupidly failed to take a “before” picture of it, and a search on the web reveals no one else proudly showing off their similar clock.  So I have to assure you that the face was trying too hard to look fancy, while the case, made of cheap wood with a cheap finish, wasn’t trying nearly hard enough.  Plus, the top finial was broken off.  So clearly the clock couldn’t stay the way it was, and I decided that if I wouldn’t take the clock to the steampunk, I’d bring the steampunk to the clock.

        P joined me to assist and encourage.  First step was to remove the face, and then the entire clockwork block and the chimes from the case.  Next we removed the pediment, with its broken finial, and took the saw to the bottom and cut off the lower box around the pendulum, so all that remained was a square box.  I next removed the board that supported the clockwork and used a jigsaw to cut away the excess wood that would cover up some of the clockwork.  After some sanding we reassembled the support for the clockwork, and painted the entire case black, as there was going to be no way to make its wood look good.

        With the clockwork screwed back into place, it was time for embellishment.  P and I went through our collection of steampunky parts and gathered some inspiration, including a roll of scientifically ruled paper which gave us the idea of augmenting our clock with a temporal anomalygraph.  In case you don’t know, that’s like a seismograph, except that instead of measuring tremors in the ground, it measures tremors in time.  So I outfitted the bottom of the clock with chains, gears, and a bar to support the roll of paper behind the pendulum.  Of course the temporal anomalygraph needed a gauge, too, and we made that in an old watch case.  We also cut a hole in the side of the clock case to insert one real amp gauge, plus two more home-made gauges.  On the other side I also drilled a hole to keep the winding key.

        Having removed the clock face to reveal the workings, we did have to try to disguise the one visible plastic gear (this is a 70s clock, after all), and we needed to add numbers.  I looked on-line for little brass numbers to add to the face, but found nothing that was really right.  So I bought some small plain brass circles, and painted the numbers 12, 3, 6, and 9.  Then we sprinkled extra gears and stuff about, hoping to add just enough interest, but not go overboard.  I’m not sure whether I achieved the perfect balance, but I’m happy with it!

        The top was the final embellishment to be glued in place.  I tried to echo the shape of a classic clock pediment with something a little steampunkier.  The bulbs don’t light up - in fact, the two little ones are burned out, and the middle one isn’t a bulb at all but was assembled from other bits.  That’s usual for my creations - all just for looks and no function.  But that’s why it’s so much fun that the clock actually works, and every fifteen minutes I enjoy its chime.  Plus, I can keep an eye on its gauges and get early warning of any temporal anomalies or counterfactuality events.

[Pictures: Embellished clock by AEGN, 2015;

removed bits;

left and right sides;

front view.]

Clockwork Chiropterid

        Today I finished the block I worked on at my open studio show this past weekend.  I didn’t know what people would make of the design as they watched me carve, and I must confess I was rather surprised by the positive response.  I think only two people used the word “steampunk,” so this probably isn’t the population that’s a natural target audience for Nycteris & Flederer’s Patent Mechanical Chiropterid (Model 3).  Nevertheless I had an unexpected number of fun conversations about the charms of robot bats.
        It’s my son P who’s been encouraging my predilection for steampunk animals.  (He’s been advocating for a clockwork pelican, which may come in time, although I actually want to do a real pelican, too.)  I thought a bat would be cool because I was picturing how a mad scientist-type might build such a thing, and I originally envisioned it with kitchen funnels for ears.  But I couldn’t make them look good despite several attempts.  I think I redid the ears more than anything else on my sketch before settling on placing the wind-up key atop the head (or, since it’s a bat, below the head, I guess.)  Because I’m not really an engineer designing a real functional device, I admit I’m a little vague on the actual workings of this critter.  The wind-up key implies clockwork, while the dials imply steam power.  I make no claims that the gears shown would produce successful powered flight.  What I was aiming for was a basic level of plausibility, topped off with a dollop of all the fun stuff.
        As for the carving, I wanted this bat to be hanging in the dark, with enough shadows that its eyes would look like lit lightbulbs.  I’m not sure I quite succeeded in that - I just can’t seem to help myself from carving out plenty of white instead of leaving dark and shadowy texture.  But I’m happy with it anyway.  After all, I never intended it to be spooky or sinister.  I wanted a friendly robot bat, and I think I got one.
        And now I need to come up with another idea for another block, because my next chance to sit carving for a weekend comes up in just two weeks at Dedham Open Studios.  Hmmm… So many wonderful possibilities!

[Picture: Nycteris & Flederer’s Patent Mechanical Chiropterid (Model 3), rubber block print by AEGN, 2015 (sold out).]

Mechanical Treasures (III)

        I’ve posted previous collections of marvelous steampunkish animal sculptures (here and here), and today I have the work of two more artists to show you.  I just couldn’t limit myself to one piece from each of them to make them fit into the previous post.  Indeed, I couldn’t even quite manage to limit myself to only three each.

        At first glance Edouard Martinet’s animals look as if they’re sculpted the traditional way, from clay cast in metal.  But look closely and you realize that they’re assemblages of all sorts of bits and pieces.  Martinet is so masterful at picking the perfect piece of junk to make each element of his subject’s form that I’m in awe.  See if you can find these parts in the sculptures shown: spatulas, brass musical instrument, bicycle bodies, and hacksaws.  The ribs of the fish are nested spoons!  Martinet uses screws to hold all the pieces together, so they really are beautifully constructed as well as beautifully designed.  I’m utterly in love with these animals!



        Andrew Chase’s animals are pretty cool, too, and pretty large.  But what makes them especially interesting is that they are fully articulated and moveable.  I’m not entirely clear whether they’re motorized and move on their own, or whether they can simply be posed by hand, but either way they’re amazing.  I’m guessing that this video of 

his cheetah sculpture is stop-motion, because I just don’t see how it would be possible for it to run like that on its own!  You can see in these pictures of his giraffe how elegantly the joints allow movement and the cable supports it.  The elephant can pick up a large metal pipe with its tusks and trunk, and in the picture above is shown just getting hold of the pipe.  And finally, two words: robot dinosaur.  Oh yeah!

        As with all steampunk sculpture, part of the fun is the reusing of pieces that might otherwise be discarded, and part of the fun is applying technology all over the place in fantastical ways.  Part of the fun is the craftsmanship that aims for beauty as well as functionality, and part of the fun is the surprise of seeing something unexpected.  That’s a lot of parts of fun, isn’t it?

[Pictures: Birds, sculptures by Edouard Martinet, c. 2011;

Fish, sculpture by Martinet;

Katydid, sculpture by Martinet, c. 2010 (These images and many many more from Edouard Martinet’s web site, Daily Cool, and Colossal);

Elephant, sculpture by Andrew Chase,

Cheetah, sculpture by Chase,

Giraffe, sculpture by Chase,

T. Rex, sculpture by Chase, (These images and more from Chase Studio and NDI Gallery).]

Steampunk Alert!

        It’s ten days until Hallowe’en and the costumes are complete!  So here we are, P having instigated a full-scale photo shoot to show off our finery.  He is ever-resourceful airship captain and inventor Nathaniel Tarlington.  I am Anna Nightingale, explorer and bard.  T is the odd one out, being a woodland elf involving no steam or machinery of any sort.  I’m the odd one out in that I will not actually be dressing up for Hallowe’en, having no place to go!  My costume is by way of encouragement and company for the others to make theirs.  (I’ll focus on the elven costumes another time: today it’s a Steampunk Alert.  It’s a shame we didn’t have some cool gaslit alley or retro industrial warehouse in which to stage our photo shoot, but what we do have is a yard and a lovely day, so we really can’t complain.)

        Without further ado, allow me to draw your attention to the highlights of our steampunkery.  First up, the requisite goggles designed not merely to protect the eyes but to provide assorted other vital (though somewhat ill-defined) functions.  P’s ray gun was shown already here, but his gauntlet is the newly completed masterpiece, involving a keypad, antenna, energy gauge, and energized dart mini-gun (with its clip of mini-darts.)  Its component parts include an old gardening glove, broken watch case, ball-point pen spring, length of broken watch band found in the gutter, metal number brads which P bought at a craft store, and a gorgeous piece of unidentified turned steel supplied by his uncle the scientist who donated some scraps from his work with instruments.  The picture also shows P’s pocket altimeter, which measures up to 25,000 feet both above and below sea level, since his airship can, when necessary, convert to a submarine.  I also really like his captain’s badge worn on his vest, (which he actually made some time ago but hadn’t come up with a use for until now.  Note more ballpoint pen springs.  Good thing I can never resist saving them when my pens die!)

        For my own costume, here are my goggles and gauges.  I posted a picture of the mechaniola before, and have made only minor tweaks to it since then.  I did want to include this necklace with which I am well pleased even though I can’t really wear it with the costume for fear of scratching and clanking against the mechaniola.  On the other hand, I can wear it on non-costumed occasions, which are considerably more plentiful.
        Happy costuming fun!

[Pictures: P, AEGN, and T wielding our weapons of choice;

P’s costume details: goggles, gauntlet, badge;

A’s costume details: gauges, goggles, necklace (Photos by AEGN and PGN, 2014).]

Mechanical Treasures (II)

        As my children and I continue our mad steampunkery, imagining and creating cool assemblages of intriguing junk, I thought this was a good time to share some more incredible sculptures I’ve discovered on the internet.  Although not all either truly steampunk (or fantasy), these sculptures nevertheless have much in common, particularly the use of salvaged industrial-type materials and a mechanical look as of magical automatons.  Their scale ranges from fingertip-tiny to big-as-a-kid, and their materials range from watch gears to car parts, and bullets to circuit boards.  I absolutely love these things!

        The little grasshopper was made by Tom Hardwidge and I like its relative simplicity.  It’s got charm and the lovely gleam of all that brass and copper, and would make a great steampunk version of a good-luck cricket on the hearth.  I think using a bullet for its body (not live ammo, don’t worry) is a sort of sword into plowshare gesture.
        I can’t tell you much about artist Christian Champin or his camel Taj because he writes in French, which unfortunately I can’t read.  Some of his sculptures are quite monumentally large, and he uses not only nifty gears and well-shaped machine parts, but also random scraps of truly junky warped and rusted metal.  This marvelous camel is one of my favorites.
        I had to show this circuit board dragon because… well, because it’s a dragon, duh!  But actually the Blue Kraken workshop makes much more gorgeous jewelry, so I also had to show you this butterfly.  These pieces are not only beautiful jewelry, but they're drawing attention to the beauty in something ignored, usually hidden, and discarded without thought.  It’s hard to think of them as upcycled trash, but they are!  It’s a reminder to all of us to keep our eyes open.
        The next artist, Celia Smith, seems to make exclusively birds, and exclusively out of wire.  I don’t know whether all her wire is recycled, but certainly much of it is.  I have a big hank of old telephone wire down in the basement now, with all its different colors.  It’s tempting to start in doodling with it, pretending it’s pencil line and I’m scribbling… except that my scribbles wouldn’t capture the shape, movement, and 

personality of my subject the way Smith’s wire scribbles do!  I’m a lifelong dabbler, but I do admire the skill that comes from dedicating one’s work to a single, focussed goal.  (Besides, I certainly don’t need to begin yet another project right now!)
        And finally, two miniature masterpieces, a perfect steampunk fairy and dragon.  Sue Beatrice makes her tiny sculptures from watch parts.  (I featured her darling rabbit a while back.)  It must be so much fun to match the little random bits and pieces with their perfect part in each creation.  It must also be wonderful to have such a large collection of watch parts as to have all those varied bits to choose from!  The main question I’d love to ask the artist is how she connects the pieces so precisely.  Glue?  Screws?  Some sort of soldering or welding?  I have yet to find an ideal way to assemble my own much less elaborate creations.

        Are you inspired to appreciate the beauty in unvalued things?  To create a second life for something disposable?  To revel in the imagination where auto transmissions become camels and computers become dragons?  Are you inspired?

[Pictures: Roborthoptera spira aureum, assorted metal sculpture by Tom Hardwidge (Image from Arthrobots);

Taj, found metal assemblage by Christian Champin (Image from Christian Champin Chez);

Dragon brooch and Blue long wing butterfly necklace, mixed materials by the Blue Kraken (Image from the Blue Kraken);

Egret, wire sculpture by Celia Smith (Image from Celia Smith);

Steampunk fairy and pocket watch dragon, metal assemblages by Sue Beatrice (Images from All Natural Arts).]

Warning: Steampunkification in Progress

        My 12-year-old son P and I have finally plunged into the steampunk creation frenzy we’ve been mulling for so long.  Steampunk creation is greatly aided by a magpie habit of collecting nifty objects, and I’m lucky to come from a long line of pack rats.  Our sources of material were four.  1. I’ve been collecting bits and pieces for years, and we’ve been raiding the attic and basement.  2. My parents have been cleaning out their house of nearly 50 years, and they set aside a box for us full of wonderful tidbits: broken watches, electronics dating back to the bakelite era, random hardware and housewares… 3. P, T, and I went to the local thrift store and picked up a few inspiring treasures there, including some brass candlesticks and an eggbeater.  4. And finally we did invest in a few retail purchases, including spools of copper wire in two gauges, a few assorted jewelry findings, and two pairs of ordinary, inexpensive welding goggles.  Thus prepared, we set to work.

  P’s primary project is an energy ray gun, (which verges a little more toward atomicpunk, I suppose, but we aren’t picky).  Its base is the base of a fishing reel.  Its ray generator is a cathode ray tube out of some old television.  Other components include a hanger cut up for 

wire, the springs out of several defunct ballpoint pens, the top of a former wristwatch, and much glue.  At its lower settings, the ray gun can energize things positively, but by the time you set it into the red zone I’m afraid it’s lethal.

        I also helped P (aka Professor Nathaniel Tarlington) make a holster so that he can wear the ray gun around.  His second project is, of course, goggles.  These arrived only yesterday, so he hasn’t gotten very far modding them yet.  He’s cut apart the visor so that each eyepiece can be raised or lowered separately, and we devised chains to hold the eyepieces up.  He’s also begun painting selected areas copper.  He’s got many further plans percolating.

        My main project is a steampunk violin.  I’ve had this old non-functioning trashpicked violin in my attic for years (possibly decades) because it was way too cool a thing not to keep.  And now finally it’s receiving its revival.  (It doesn’t make music, unfortunately, because that would just be way more than I can handle, but it looks pretty darn cool, I must say!)  I’ve given it a very excellent old pressure gauge, a bit of clockwork interior from a defunct alarm clock, a bridge of gears, and five strings.  One of my favorite touches was replacing the knob of one tuning peg with a lightbulb.  I’ve substituted for bow hair (which was missing anyway) a coiled wire, and 

decorated the rest of the bow with generous lashings of wire and gears.  I’m also making a strap for the violin so that I can carry it, and this is being decorated, too.  So far I’ve used old watch cases to make a Tuner & Bach’s Psychoacoustic Sonic Frequency Gauge (Pat. Pend.) and some other Clockworky Thing.  I plan to make a third item, but haven’t decided what yet.

        I’ve also started a pair of the requisite goggles, which will decorate my pith helmet as I go exploring around the alternate-Victorian world with my mechaniola.  “Why a pith helmet and a violin?” you ask?  Because my steampunk character is a bard.  It’s the same philosophy as the bard Svarnil from my high fantasy Otherworld Series - studying history and archaeology, learning the truth, and telling the stories that keep the truth alive and pass it on to each new generation - but this time steampunk style!

        The thing about steampunk is that at its roots, it isn’t just about the cool look.  It also tries to capture some spirit of the time when technology was still hand crafted with an eye for elaborate beauty as well as function, and when the potential of progress seemed limitless.  The steampunk spirit also emphasizes reusing, recycling, making things to last instead of built-in obsolescence and disposability, and mastering our technology instead of letting it master us.  But here in our house we’re just having a lot of fun making really cool things mostly out of a lot of old junk.

        I’ll post back later when our projects are completed, which will be in time for Hallowe’en.

[Pictures: P’s ray gun;

P’s goggles and my goggles, incomplete;

Mechaniola and detail of strap, photos by AEGN, 2014.]