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| Princess Ka'iulani: Finished in clay at his studio on the Big Island |
It seems so long ago now (and it is) but I can hardly forget a defining time in my life that helped me realize if I could make it through anything, well not anything, but surely a lot! In 1999 my family and I faced a situational challenge that led to us being without any accommodation, no home, for two months. In that time we looked for a new place, but it was not easy to find someone that would rent to a family of 4 kids with one on the way. We were set adrift. It was a very emotional and depressing time for me.
As I write, an old haunting tune comes to mind: Who will Rescue Me from the movie, The Rescuers. Maybe it's because I was watching it a lot with the kids. Little did I know at that time, I would not be rescued but would be called on to do some rescuing of my own.
As I write, an old haunting tune comes to mind: Who will Rescue Me from the movie, The Rescuers. Maybe it's because I was watching it a lot with the kids. Little did I know at that time, I would not be rescued but would be called on to do some rescuing of my own.
Ka'iulani Emergency
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| My studio: HQ for the Emergency casting of Jan's sculpture |
I agreed to the task of getting it done. Because of his urgency, I suspended our search for a new place and placed ourselves at the kindness and mercy of our friends, the ones that would let us sleep at their place. We only slept there, never hung there during the day. As we did this I set a rule to ensure we not overstay our welcome: not more than three nights at any one place. This set in motion my family as gypsies going from place to place, sometimes a hotel (if we had money), or whoever of our friends would take a chance on us.
I still retained my warehouse studio. We had jammed all our worldly possessions in it up against the walls and on shelves but left the middle open to work and put together Jan's sculpture.
The sculpture pieces came shipped in a crate in molded sections that would go through a process of wax pour, ceramic investment, bronze casting and finally being welded together and finished for shipping. So easy to say, immensely hard to do in a short time in a studio not really set up for this task. But Jan was low on cash and the foundries normally took much longer, charged extra for a rush job, plus you had to book your order in advance (which Jan had not done) so they would be on the same page. His only option was to call on his friend and former student to help him put it together.
In creating this sculpture, the urgency, long hours and challenges we faced cannot all be written (although I would like to). With the situation my family was in and the predicaments Jan and I found ourselves in, it was quite the roller coaster life. There were many experiences that stood out but I will only touch on a few.
We Thought We Were So Smart
After a few days and much labor, the panels were cast and we got them back to the studio and began the task of welding them all together. We were quite inexperienced but felt we were up to the task. As we put the panels together we didn't take into account the warpage from molding and casting the pieces in wax. This warpage came into evidence when we got the sculpture half way up and it was way off and the pieces started not matching up and looked nothing like the original. When we looked at how it lined up and the huge problem we faced, we were dumfounded. We sat on my couch (covered in plastic) and stared at the thing we were building then looked at each other in bewilderment. Jan started to lament: "We thought we were so smart, we thought we could do what the foundries could do!" It was a scene faced by many an artist, old and young, the realization that we had bitten off more than we could chew!
"Why don't we bring someone in, like a foundry worker, to help and advise us?" Jan seriously mused that one but never agreed. After about half an hour of stopping work he got up from the couch and paced around looking up every now and then at our bronze dilemma. Then he declared, "we can do it!" And he picked up the sledge hammer and started pounding the panels. I groaned inside, here we go. It sounded very positive, Jan's declaration, but I knew what he really meant; we have no alternative, there's no turning back, we have to do it! I got up and started helping and as we saw the panels slowly move and do what we wanted them to do, we took courage, the doubts forgotten, progress was made and our work continued.
What Are You Guys Doing?
After a few days and much labor, the panels were cast and we got them back to the studio and began the task of welding them all together. We were quite inexperienced but felt we were up to the task. As we put the panels together we didn't take into account the warpage from molding and casting the pieces in wax. This warpage came into evidence when we got the sculpture half way up and it was way off and the pieces started not matching up and looked nothing like the original. When we looked at how it lined up and the huge problem we faced, we were dumfounded. We sat on my couch (covered in plastic) and stared at the thing we were building then looked at each other in bewilderment. Jan started to lament: "We thought we were so smart, we thought we could do what the foundries could do!" It was a scene faced by many an artist, old and young, the realization that we had bitten off more than we could chew!
"Why don't we bring someone in, like a foundry worker, to help and advise us?" Jan seriously mused that one but never agreed. After about half an hour of stopping work he got up from the couch and paced around looking up every now and then at our bronze dilemma. Then he declared, "we can do it!" And he picked up the sledge hammer and started pounding the panels. I groaned inside, here we go. It sounded very positive, Jan's declaration, but I knew what he really meant; we have no alternative, there's no turning back, we have to do it! I got up and started helping and as we saw the panels slowly move and do what we wanted them to do, we took courage, the doubts forgotten, progress was made and our work continued.
What Are You Guys Doing?
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| Richard works up the final Patina in my studio. All our worldly possessions in boxes on the shelves. |
As the project progressed, we had finally got all the panels together and I saw for the first time what the completed project of this female figure would look like. There was still much banging and welding to be done. Tipped on it's side, we didn't realize that the cone shape of the dress formed a funnel that projected the sound well beyond our work space. One night at 2 am as we were working we were surprised to hear a knock at the glass office door. There stood the bewildered, half drowsy figure of a residential neighbor from across the street.
"What are you guys doing?"
"Oh can you hear us? So sorry."
We stopped work. But we could not stop now, we must keep working but the sound was too much. What to do? We move all the bedding, shelves, boxes, matrices, everything in the studio over to the roller door to block the sound. Then pointed the cone sculpture away from the door. Once completed, we made a test. I crawled in the darkness over to the guys house and sat under his bedroom window while Jan wailed on the sculpture. I snuck back and told Jan the good news, from over there I could hardly hear anything. On into the night we continued our pounding and welding.
Where is my family?
While this was going on, my family was off in our old suburban, my wife 6 months pregnant. I wanted to be with them, to know they were alright, but had to spend my time at the studio. I would come to them late in the evening, sleep and leave early. We slept on floors, couches, in a loaner cabin, hotels, even at the studio on the cement floor. We never slept in the car.
During the day the kids would come around for a visit. My young son once came up to me and said Dad, are you a hard worker? It was so cute. My wife said yes dad is a hard worker.
Only once was I tempted to break our three day stay rule. We were staying with a family, the sculpture was almost finished and would be shipped that day. It would be so nice if we could stay one more night, then when it was over we could move somewhere else. To make the people feel better about having us one day longer I told Kelly to buy them a bunch of groceries. Unfortunately this didn't help. When the lady came home and found my family still there, she became annoyed with my wife and said, when are you leaving? But she said it in a tone that really meant, please leave now. Not a welcoming place anymore, Kelly grabbed the kids, all our stuff (minus the groceries) and left right away.
Without a place, my family came over to the studio to watch the final dramatic scenes of the completion, loading, crating and departure of the sculpture, Jan, and everyone else.
Finished and Shipped
It was a Saturday. A month had passed. The sculpture had to be crated and delivered to the wharf in Los Angeles on Monday (two days) to make the ship departure and arrive in time for the unveiling in Honolulu. The sculpture was being finished but the crate still wasn't made, even though Jan's friend had been given the task days ago. It was such a simple thing, to make a crate, but for some reason the guy had a mental block. With only hours left I took over that task of the crate as well.
Everything to me has a song or a tune. Thinking back on this one everything was coming to a crescendo. What better way of describing this time than the last part of Marche Slave by Tchaikovsky.
The semi with it's huge trailer came, which was a miracle in itself (long story). As the truck rolled in the Tongans I was with clapped their hands for joy. It wasn't supposed to be there but here it was backing up. The sculpture was very big, heavy and awkward shaped. No forklifts around to load it so we got 8 Tongans to lift it up onto the truck. Once the sculpture was in place I set about building the crate around the sculpture on the back of the trailer. The truck driver was forestalled by Jan giving him $50 and asking to come back in an hour. He unhitched the trailer and left with his rig. In the midst of still building the crate, the truck driver and rig came back and started hitch back up again. As he hitched his rig to the trailer the banging and shaking of the coupling echoed through the trailer making my task even more urgent. I became so focused and pumped, perhaps running on a last bit of adrenaline. I would pound down the nails with great gusto, three or four swift, precise strokes and they were in. One after the other, pounding and pounding. Finally Jan said, enough! Stop! I hopped down, that was it, it's over!
The truck pulled away and so did everyone else, even Jan had to rush off to the airport. Within a few short minutes the parking lot was empty of people. The only ones remaining were my wife and my little ones. My feelings, our situation, were so overwhelming. tears came to my eyes, I could hardly see. I sank to the ground and sobbed there while my sweet little ones gather round to 'soft' me on my back. The sunlight felt harsh. I felt hollow. I realized I was sore and tired. We went to find a hotel.
"What are you guys doing?"
"Oh can you hear us? So sorry."
We stopped work. But we could not stop now, we must keep working but the sound was too much. What to do? We move all the bedding, shelves, boxes, matrices, everything in the studio over to the roller door to block the sound. Then pointed the cone sculpture away from the door. Once completed, we made a test. I crawled in the darkness over to the guys house and sat under his bedroom window while Jan wailed on the sculpture. I snuck back and told Jan the good news, from over there I could hardly hear anything. On into the night we continued our pounding and welding.
Where is my family?
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| My cute kids not long before we were to head into the gypsy life. In the background is the trusty white suburban we drove around in. |
While this was going on, my family was off in our old suburban, my wife 6 months pregnant. I wanted to be with them, to know they were alright, but had to spend my time at the studio. I would come to them late in the evening, sleep and leave early. We slept on floors, couches, in a loaner cabin, hotels, even at the studio on the cement floor. We never slept in the car.
During the day the kids would come around for a visit. My young son once came up to me and said Dad, are you a hard worker? It was so cute. My wife said yes dad is a hard worker.
Without a place, my family came over to the studio to watch the final dramatic scenes of the completion, loading, crating and departure of the sculpture, Jan, and everyone else.
Finished and Shipped
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| Princess Kailoni half way through Patina. In her right hand she feeds the peacock 'wafers' with portraits of the instigators, the traitors that led to the Hawaiian annexation. |
Everything to me has a song or a tune. Thinking back on this one everything was coming to a crescendo. What better way of describing this time than the last part of Marche Slave by Tchaikovsky.
The semi with it's huge trailer came, which was a miracle in itself (long story). As the truck rolled in the Tongans I was with clapped their hands for joy. It wasn't supposed to be there but here it was backing up. The sculpture was very big, heavy and awkward shaped. No forklifts around to load it so we got 8 Tongans to lift it up onto the truck. Once the sculpture was in place I set about building the crate around the sculpture on the back of the trailer. The truck driver was forestalled by Jan giving him $50 and asking to come back in an hour. He unhitched the trailer and left with his rig. In the midst of still building the crate, the truck driver and rig came back and started hitch back up again. As he hitched his rig to the trailer the banging and shaking of the coupling echoed through the trailer making my task even more urgent. I became so focused and pumped, perhaps running on a last bit of adrenaline. I would pound down the nails with great gusto, three or four swift, precise strokes and they were in. One after the other, pounding and pounding. Finally Jan said, enough! Stop! I hopped down, that was it, it's over!
The truck pulled away and so did everyone else, even Jan had to rush off to the airport. Within a few short minutes the parking lot was empty of people. The only ones remaining were my wife and my little ones. My feelings, our situation, were so overwhelming. tears came to my eyes, I could hardly see. I sank to the ground and sobbed there while my sweet little ones gather round to 'soft' me on my back. The sunlight felt harsh. I felt hollow. I realized I was sore and tired. We went to find a hotel.
A Loyal Friend and Ideal Helper
Looking back it was a very difficult situation, a bit traumatizing, but one I was glad I made it through, task completed. It was a good thing that I helped my friend and teacher. Funny thing too he ran out of money so other than an initial payment to bring me on board, I was never fully paid.
Of me, the way I worked and how I helped him, Jan would say, "LeRoy you helped me and worked so hard on my sculpture like it was your own. Your urgency and care, you helped me more than I could say. No foundry would ever do what you did. I will always be grateful to you, even after I die. I will always be in your debt. I will make whatever you want."
That's okay Jan, no worries brah, you helped me a lot too, more than I can ever say. After the Princess Kai'ulani experience, I figured this now makes us even.
Looking back it was a very difficult situation, a bit traumatizing, but one I was glad I made it through, task completed. It was a good thing that I helped my friend and teacher. Funny thing too he ran out of money so other than an initial payment to bring me on board, I was never fully paid.
Of me, the way I worked and how I helped him, Jan would say, "LeRoy you helped me and worked so hard on my sculpture like it was your own. Your urgency and care, you helped me more than I could say. No foundry would ever do what you did. I will always be grateful to you, even after I die. I will always be in your debt. I will make whatever you want."
That's okay Jan, no worries brah, you helped me a lot too, more than I can ever say. After the Princess Kai'ulani experience, I figured this now makes us even.
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| In 2014, 15 years later, My wife and I finally got to see the sculpture in it's setting of downtown Waikiki, Hawaii. |
