New Bronze Sculpture | Part Two
Part I of the New Bronze, now Part II:
A bronze pour feels like the slowest way to encounter an adrenaline rush. There cannot be sudden movements, there is practicing and timing, lives are literally on the line. When I watched a bronze pour freshman year an extension chord caught fire and flames quickly climbed the chord headed for the socket and ripped from the wall at the final moment. Ergo, it was high pressure, not only because of the roaring foundry and molten metal, but because of the few moments where I would hold half the responsibility of directing the sixty pound crucible of hot, liquid bronze. No pressure.
On pour day, I began by sorting through buckets of scrap bronze to melt back down and serve as the bronze for my piece. The cool metal in my hands, the rough edges causing little nicks in my palm reminded me of why I wanted to do this. I was holding pieces only an inch or two long, but by the end of the day I would hold a heavy piece of bronze sculpture, my figure brought to life. The beauty from the dirt, from the thrown away pieces, from the dust. We filled the crucible, not haphazardly, but slowly, bronze pieces fitting together like a puzzle to permit as much as possible. Then, the fire was turned on and we let it all melt down. In the beginning the crucible is black. By the time the bronze has fully melted the crucible is a bright, hot red/orange as well as bronze. We placed my molds into a sand pit, twisting them to sit a few inches deep, secured and ready to receive molten metal.
I suited up in my heat repellent suit resembling an astronaut. My professor looked at my high-top Vans peaking out from the shoe covers and asked if those were the shoes I was wearing. Yes. "Molten metal eats canvas. Don't loose a toe today." I'll try. We practiced the movements of lifting and pouring with a large awkward device that would hold the crucible while we held each end. I had to engage a clamp to secure the crucible and if I snapped it too hard the crucible would shatter and molten bronze would flow everywhere. The clamp was sticky and took a lot of effort to engage then release. No pressure.
The time came to pour. The fire was turned off, quieting the foundry. Heat was emiting from the bright orange crucible, making inside my space suit very warm and sticky with sweat. No more practicing, it was show time. We used a different tool to lift the crucible onto a stand where we then swapped it for the clamping tool. I lowered the lever and did not shatter the crucible. We squatted and lifted the sixty pounds of metal, shuffling carefully over to the molds. I held it steady while my professor directed the pouring. An audience watched as the liquid splashed into the narrow opening, filling the plaster containers and quickly, immediately starting to drop in temperature and turn dark. Once the two mold were filled, we reversed our process to return the crucible to the foundry to cool.
The crucible was release, I stepped away to take off my head covering, wiping my damp forehead with a shaky hand, adrenaline still rushing. "That was a perfect pour. The bronze was on your side today," said my professor, high-fiving me in celebration of surviving a dreamy pour.
Part III, the finished sculpture, a moment of sitting in a thin space.
