If you were in and around Columbia in 2014, at Roots N Blues or around the art scene, you might remember a giant garden gnome floating about town. Well, that was me. At the time, I was just creating stuff because I liked creating stuff. I had no clue that goofy giant garden gnome would end up taking me all over the place.
After making a splash in Columbia, the gnome hit the road with me. Next thing I knew, I was standing at the World Series in Kansas City with lines of people wrapped around my sculpture wanting photos with it. The stadium even sent photographers over. Media was lining up wanting interviews. I had never seen anything like that before.
At the World Series, I was merely showing up to see what kind of response my work would get. Boy, was I surprised. It opened my eyes to how much people enjoy interacting with things they recognize. They like moments. They like experiences. They like taking pictures with things that feel larger than life. That was probably my first real understanding of landmark sculptures and how much people relate to them.
After that, I kept moving. Eventually I landed in Eureka Springs, Arkansas, a quirky little artsy town in the middle of nowhere. I was only planning to stay a short while. But I was wrong. Years later, there are now multiple pieces of mine in and near Eureka Springs. If you have been to Lake Leatherwood, you’ve likely seen Bigfoot. If you’ve walked through Basin Park, you may have seen Humpty Dumpty sitting on the wall. There are many more scattered throughout town.
Eureka Springs was really where things started taking shape for me. The town was very accepting of big ideas and unusual projects, and because of that, I kept pushing things larger and larger. My most recent installation there is an over 10-foot-tall wooden garden gnome in a park that is being restored. Because of my obsession with creating large pieces and placing them around town, I forged connections with people I would have never otherwise met.
I was then asked to join the Eureka Springs Arts Council, which opened my eyes to a whole different side of public artwork and projects. Most people only see the finished sculpture. They do not see the conversations, planning, materials, deadlines, equipment, sponsors, committees, weather problems, installation days, and all the people it takes to pull these things off.
Ideas are easy. Anyone can have an idea. The hard part is actually bringing them into reality. It takes a lot of people to accomplish large projects. A lot of time. A lot of effort. A lot of help. These pieces may begin in my imagination, but by the time they are installed, they belong to everybody involved with making them happen and, in the end, to the people who enjoy them.
While I was in Eureka Springs, my tentacles went out in multiple directions. I got connected with people involved with bike trails and tourism projects. I ended up doing sculptures for Howler Bike Park in Branson, Missouri, along with Bigfoot sculptures for a theme park. In time, that led to projects in Bentonville and Bella Vista, Arkansas.
One of my favorite projects is near Crystal Bridges Museum of American Art, where a giant turtle sculpture now lights up the night along the trail system, with giant praying mantis sculptures nearby so the turtle has company. On a trail in Bella Vista, there is also a giant camera sculpture on a tunnel that people can walk or ride through.
Eventually the road brought me back to Columbia. If you’ve been around Columbia Center for Urban Agriculture or downtown near the Bank of America building, you’ve probably seen some of my work.
More recently, creating a piece for Tiger on the Prowl opened the door to Mizzou. After seeing the response people had to the Tiger piece, I ended up getting official licensing through MU to create university logo sculptures. I’m hoping to continue pushing those ideas larger than life as landmark sculptures people can interact with, photograph, and remember.
What has surprised me most over the years is how these pieces slowly take on lives of their own. Once they are installed, they stop belonging only to me. Families take photos with them. Kids climb on them. People build memories around them. They become part of places, which is honestly the most rewarding aspect for me.
I’ve always had a very imaginative brain, and sometimes I may live in my own little world a bit too much. But if a sculpture can give somebody a moment to stop thinking about stress for a second and just enjoy where they are, take a photo, laugh with friends, or remember a good day later on, then that is a pretty amazing thing.
In my next column, I’ll introduce you to another local creator here in Columbia. Chances are, if you’ve driven down the right street in town, you’ve probably already seen his work, too.
