Letting the Outside World In – Sharing, Showing Off and Cleaning Up

People are often amazed at how available Steven is to the public. There’s a commonly held assumption that the artistic process requires isolation and the kind of extreme concentration that can only come from working in a secluded studio or artist’s garret. In contrast, Steven has always thrived with public interaction, as he reminds me, the public, 'people' are his subject. However, higher profile projects have brought new attention to the studio and it’s been a little bit of shock to see our little world from the outside perspective.

The John David Crow project has brought some nice media coverage including newspaper and magazine articles and a recent feature on a local news program. Since we want to put our best face forward we actually have to clean up the studio. The pace of the project has us adding about 150 pounds of clay to the sculpture a day and none of it happens in a neat and tidy manner. Of course when I mentioned that Steven might want to change his shirt for the interview since the one he was wearing had a spot on it, he explained that he was just going to get clay on it anyway. It’s this slightly prepared, but still messy reality that is now captured on film.

Since the studio couldn’t exist without the support of our staff, much of the media coverage also includes comments by the staff. As always, they do us an incredible service and their comments on the work and the process make us both grateful and inspired. Lord Wellington seems to have made the smoothest transition to print and film. He takes no notice of the extra attention and may be the one true media star of the group.

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As strange as it is to see yourself on film, it’s been wonderful to see how well the sculpture itself is photographing. Though still in progress, the piece is definitely taking shape and it’s clear that the finished work is going to convey the spirit and momentum Steven intended.

Bill: Chief Cadet in the Sculpture Corps

When I think about the amazing group of people who work with us at the studio I’m frequently reminded of the Peace Corps slogan, “The hardest job you’ll ever love.”

It’s a strange invitation to make to anyone: “Come and be a starving artist with me. You’ll work until you drop, make no money, have to walk the dog, and come home covered in plaster, fiberglass, clay and who-knows-what else.” That anyone would even think of applying, much less staying and working, is a kind of miracle. Perhaps it’s the invitation to share in the adventurous struggle, the good, the bad and the messy that fosters the amazingly high quality of people who become the studio family.

Bill is our head studio manager. He just returned from a much-deserved vacation and his absence from the studio was palpable. The studio is in so many ways lost without him. Bill knows where we keep the “good rubber,” the scalpels that are still sharp and a host of other items that we seem to need as soon as he walks out the door.

In the years they have worked together, Steven and Bill have taken mutual admiration to its highest level. To their own frustration, they get mistaken for brothers at least once a day. But physical resemblance aside, the relationship has a necessarily familial nature. It’s not just the time and close proximity born of working in the studio. It’s the amazing gesture of trust seen in handing over responsibility of your artwork to another. Bill and all the staff consider Steven’s work with such love and reverence that there is never any apprehension.

Bill fights alongside Steven in the frequently bizarre trenches of the art community of Carmel and beyond. Their work often seems more like a series of bizarre adventures than art production. At last year's hearing of Carmel’s strident Design Review Board Bill was there. When we were anxious to improve production quality Bill learned how to pour waxes. At our recent show at the Sunset Center Bill brought no less than eight guests and spent the whole evening sharing detailed stories about each sculpture with everyone who would listen. When we needed help moving Bill was there - with a truck. Moral support, muscle and unquestionable talent - it's all there.

I clearly remember the first New Year’s Eve after Bill came on staff. Steven and I were talking with friends over champagne about the things we were thankful for in the past year. Without pause Steven said simply, “Bill.”