Jerry Simchuk
Cover image by Bill Bachhuber
Mission: Impossible?
Sooner or later, you’ll probably take on a project that turns out to be more difficult than expected. You may find that the biggest challenges come from within.
Text and images by Jerry Simchuk
Many years ago, a wise man told me that the greatest rewards in life come to those who work hard to overcome the many challenges they encounter along the way. Without challenges to test us, we would never adapt and grow to achieve our greatest potential.
I may have doubted the wisdom of those words at the time, but I’m a firm believer in them today, especially when it comes to sculpting. Whether you’re sculpting birds as a hobby or full-time, you’ll face many challenges as you work.
Some projects come together quickly. Others present one problem after another from start to finish. I recently completed one project that offered more than its share of obstacles—many of them difficulties I created myself.
In the Beginning
When friends, relatives, or collectors ask you to create sculptures for them, it’s a great feeling, especially when they stroke your ego with unqualified praise. It’s quite intoxicating when someone tells you how much they like your work and what an honor it would be to have one of your sculptures in his or her home. Who wouldn’t want to tackle a project when the offer comes wrapped in such compliments?
So when a lovely woman with nothing but positive things to say about my work approached me with a project, I was already well on my way to accepting it—even when she warned me that I might think her desired bird was a crazy choice.
“Don’t be silly,” I said. “I’m sure it’s a fine bird. What is it?”
“An American robin,” she said.
Accepting the Project
I was excited by the knowledge that I had another collector, but I soon realized I wasn’t thrilled about carving an American robin. After my initial euphoria subsided and my negative feelings about the robin began taking over, I started disliking the bird. At that time I felt robins were common, plain birds. They did not interest me at all. Growing up, I perceived the bird as little more than a nuisance to our berry patch. I felt I would rather spend time working on a bird with more flare, one that would make me more excited about the project.
Faced with such a situation, I find that the best way to move forward is by shifting focus from the negative to the positive. That positive aspect of a project doesn’t even have to be a large part of the overall sculpture. In this case, I thought I would enjoy working on the clay model. I also thought creating the habitat would be fun and exciting, since it would give me the opportunity to play with some new torches.
I determined that I would make this my best sculpture to date. I might even enter it into competition.
The Conceptual Drawings
I start developing a design concept for a sculpture by brainstorming ideas and jotting them down. They don’t have to be elaborate or even all that good visually. The most important thing is to get the ideas out of my head and on paper.
In many cases, all I need are quick thumbnail sketches. These give shape and form to my ideas, and allow me to play with different approaches to my composition.
What happens if the ideas don’t even make it into your head? I find it helps to go outside and start watching the bird I plan to sculpt. I observe its characteristics and behavior, and eventually I see something about the bird that grabs my attention, something I want to capture in my sculpture. If you don’t have a live bird to view, then you’ll need to resort to videos and photos.
The challenge for me at this stage of the robin project was that I wanted to come up with a totally new composition and add more life to the bird than I had ever done before. I wanted to create a robin with a confident and positive attitude. I felt I could convey that feeling by giving the bird a slightly upturned head, with the beak angling upward.
Creating a Model
Once I have a conceptual drawing of the bird, I create a clay model to refine and maybe expand on the idea. This seems easy enough. Normally it takes no more than a day to finish, and then I’m off to the band saw.
On this project, though, one day turned into two, then into three, and then a full week had passed. What in the world could have drawn it out so long?
I began encountering difficulties when I asked my wife for her opinions as I worked on the clay model. “The head doesn’t look right,” she said. “It doesn’t have the look of a robin to me,” she added. “Something is wrong with it.” Honest as her input was, it did lead to some tense moments in the house. At one point, I even ripped the bird’s head off the body out of sheer frustration.
One thing this experience taught me is to listen when people say something doesn’t look quite right. They may not know what bothers them, but their instincts are usually sound. With a cool head, I eventually identified the problem. Remember, the whole purpose behind the clay model is to work out the kinks and refine your ideas before starting on the wood. It doesn’t matter how long it takes to get your model crafted, so long as you’re satisfied with it in the end. A good clay model makes for a better sculpture.
Carving the Bird
I finally reached the point where I could start grinding and making dust. I figured it would be smooth sailing from this point. However, after all the energy and excitement I had generated with the clay model, I felt completely drained, as though I’d finished the entire project already.
The next challenge I had to overcome was to recapture my initial drive and excitement before I fell into the procrastination trap.
At this point, I put the robin on the shelf and moved to a smaller project that I found more exciting. If you have the luxury to work on a smaller, quick project that gives you time to recover and build up energy for the challenging one, do it. Just make sure that you don’t keep piling on project after project. You can always find easy projects that keep you from completing the difficult ones.
When I need to regain momentum, I focus on a small goal that will get me back in the groove. For example, take an hour today to cut the bird out on the bandsaw. Then, tomorrow, rough out just the head or body. Keep this up, and you’ll find yourself back on track with nothing to stop you from putting in those long hours again.
Once I was back on track and making dust, I hit another snag. The head wasn’t working out right because I didn’t allow enough wood for the bandsaw edges. There was no way to correct the mistake at this point without cutting out another block, so I cut the head off the body. I could make a new separate head. I was moving forward again.
Whenever you run into a situation that seems irreversible in wood, keep in mind that there’s a solution someplace. Maybe you find that your primaries keep breaking. Instead of continuing to fix and patch the primaries, use brass rods for reinforcing, or make the primaries out of stronger material. Try not to force it to be what it can’t be.
Building the Habitat
With the bird roughed out, it was time to create the habitat. I felt I had finally made it to what I view as a freer and looser creative part of the project. I set out to use the branches, berries, and leaves to direct attention toward the bird. I also like this stage of a project because I find it exciting to work in metal and create something that looks light and fragile but is in fact very strong.
Then I discovered that my habitat reference material was all shriveled up and worthless. I had to call for more. That meant another delay in the project while I waited for the replacement habitat clippings.
Rather than waiting around doing nothing, I jumped into another project that took my attention away from the robin for several weeks. It was the procrastination trap all over again, and even after I received my replacement habitat material, I found I had to get re-energized and dive back into the project.
Once I did, I immediately hit another snag. My holly leaves, made of brass foil, wouldn’t lie flat no matter what I did. It required some trial and error on a few approaches to the leaf pattern until I finally managed to get the proper look and feel. At first, my leaf points didn’t look right after I added my waves and bends, so I tried making them shorter, lower, wider, narrower, and even longer. Finally, by extending the points further forward and outward from the sides of the leaf pattern, I got something that looked accurate after I added the waves and bends.
There are many times when we can develop new techniques and tricks by simply experimenting. Try something different. The worst thing that can happen is it doesn’t work. But you might actually figure out a solution to the problem.
Once I resolved the leaf issue, I turned to the welding. I didn’t think I would have any problems here, especially since I had a new mini torch with a number of mini tips for the fine work. I thought putting the habitat together would be a cakewalk. Instead, I found myself on the steep side of a learning curve as I struggled to learn how to use my new tools. I finally completed the welding, with the knowledge that the next welding project would certainly go smoother.
Painting
I was on the home stretch. Only the painting remained.
By this time, months had passed, and I felt it was time to take a break from the robin. I needed some recovery time before I dove into the paint. I made it this far; I didn’t want to blow it with a half-hearted paint job.
On the other hand, I didn’t want to fall once more into the procrastination trap. The longer I waited, the more I began to worry about ruining the sculpture with subpar painting.
In a situation like this, I find it’s helpful to break things down into manageable painting steps. Think about stages you feel confident handling. I do one color application, then take the next color, and gradually work my way through the painting until it’s completed.
I decided to start with the habitat since I had already determined to make it a fun part of the project. After all, I was still viewing the robin as a boring gray bird with some orange/red on the breast, something that couldn’t be much fun to paint. (I later discovered how wrong I was, and I had a lot of fun finding variations and patterns to paint on the robin.)
After a few days passed and I was still painting what I felt were merely base tones on the habitat, I began wondering what I was doing. I became impatient and wanted to rush through it and even take shortcuts. If you do that, it will be obvious in the results. Fortunately, I realized how crucial it was to focus on the end goal. Anytime I started to think my work was “good enough” and that I should “just move on,” I made sure to give it my best effort all the way to the end.
End Result
Finally I finished painting the habitat and the bird. I had reached the point where I would set the robin to the habitat. Even at this late stage, I wasn’t overly thrilled with my bird, even though I had a newfound respect for the robin itself. My lack of enthusiasm disappeared the moment I placed the bird on its final resting place within the habitat.
When I first stood back about six feet from the sculpture, I had an immediate shift in emotions. I felt instant joy, excitement, love, and satisfaction. Having spent over nine months on this project, overcoming many challenges along the way, I finally experienced what it was all about.
The wise old man was right. Work hard and overcome the challenges, and you’ll grow to greater heights. In my case, I experienced greater satisfaction in my own work than I ever had before.
Now I could present the bird to the owner. Rather than send photos of the finished piece, I decided to take it to Columbia Flyway Wildfowl Show so she could attend and see her sculpture in person.
At the show, I watched her eyes lock on her sculpture for the first time, and I saw her form an immediate bond with it. Words can’t describe the joy and satisfaction I felt at that moment, knowing she was completely and utterly in love with her new sculpture.
An experience like that is the icing on the cake. Icing can come in many forms. Maybe you receive a special award, see spectators photographing your work, or even have it appear in a magazine. I view all of these things as extras and do not consider them to be the primary objective for a sculpture. But when these extras come along, they are certainly a lot of fun and can be quite exciting. Be sure to savor them.
Since entering his first competition in 1994, Jerry Simchuk has competed regularly at top-level bird carving shows around the country. A full-time artist since 2004, Jerry has started creating wildlife art sculptures in bronze. He and his wife, Kate, live on a small farm in Kalispell, Montana, where Jerry continues to build his reputation as a wildlife artist, carver, judge, and instructor. You can reach him at Jerry@Simchuk.com.
|
