Stepping Into Another World

     Over many years, I've met countless creative types in our amazing community. As a writer, I get to ask such people lots of questions when they agree to an interview. It's the coolest job ever and constantly inspiring.

     There are creative people in any category you can think of and many you'd not. This community is a rich beehive of activity by artists of all stripes - from fine arts requiring brushes, charcoal or pencils, to others requiring bare hands and a few simple tools, to still others using computers and sophisticated instruments. There are whole categories of art: fiber, metal, paper, wood and clay to music, film and writing, with subcategories within each.  All require passion - and there's lots of that going around here. Inspiration is everywhere in our environment and among the people who live here. When I stop to think about it, everyone I know has some degree of passion about creating something, be it to eat, use or savor with the eyes and heart. Some are very talented, indeed.

Ingredients

      Everyone who creates is constantly looking for ideas and materials, be they physical ones you can touch or emotional ones that touch you. I've written about people who take physical materials - tin cans, used tires, phone books, old clothes, etc. and turned them in to art or new items for everyday use. This week, I met a fellow who does that with used horseshoes.

    He's not the only one to use horseshoes, including used ones, for other purposes. Many a horseshoe is soldered together to spell out names of ranches, or hold jackets, hats, toilet paper or wine bottles.

An elk heading towards Main Street...

     Bud Thomas uses old horseshoes to make life-size animals, from squirrels and owls to elk and rearing horses, plus salmon, herons, wasp nests, trees, turtles, eagles, dogs -- whatever nature inspires.
     His studio is in Philomath, in the very spot where he was a self-employed auto mechanic for many years. What started as something to keep him oblivious to winter until he could get back on his horse and ride trails into wilderness caught the eyes of others and soon he quit is day job.



     Bud generously shared some of his time with me to explain his process and show me some of his current work. Like most artists, he doesn't like to show a work in progress, just as writers are loathe

to show their first drafts. I respect that so you won't see some of the pieces I fell in love with, such as the heron in the sandblaster with his work gloves resting on her legs (I swear she blinked when he opened the blaster box), or the salmon whose eyes show curiosity and just a touch of temper.
  Thanks to local farriers, he rarely runs out of shoes. It's amazing the sizes and thicknesses in his many barrels of them. Their initial cleaning is in a cement mixer, then comes the process of sensing what they will become - and how.

     There is obviously a lot of hard physical work involved in this form of art, not to mention standing on a cement floor while doing so.  A problem-solver at heart, his work space is filled with clever methods he's come up with to save energy - both his and other forms (electric, propane, etc.) and tools he's designed to ease the process. They involve everything from old filing cabinets to scraps of pipe to a split oak log and more. There's not a step in the entire process that he hasn't tinkered with as much as the shoes themselves.

  
     You can see Bud's work on the internet, and it's a good place to start, but if you live near Philomath, it's worth the trip to stop by his studio. If he's not there, you don't have to go in, some of his animals are displayed outside, on Main Street, until they get adopted. (Since it's now one-way, heading west, you'll catch sight of an animal, such as the elk above, on your right between the first two traffic lights.)
     I can guarantee you'll be inspired.