Who knew so much fun could be had with airplane parts? They're cropping up as furniture, sculptures - even bathroom fixtures.

Parts of a jet engine form a shower in Ron Fridlind's home. Photo by Gillian Drummond

It's fitting that, in a city with close connections to flight, airplanes are sneaking into the design world. Airplane parts as furniture, fixtures and sculpture that is.

Mention Tucson and you'll hear the names Howard Hughes and Bombardier. There's the Pima Air and Space Museum, Davis Monthan Air Base, not to mention an airplane boneyard currently being celebrated by artist Eric Firestone.

Tucson architects and designers are, quite rightly, celebrating the city's aviation links, working airplane parts into their own projects, and with stunning results.

Ron Fridlind's unique shower head. Photo by Gillian Drummond

Architect/builder Ron Fridlind is all about salvaging. And when it comes to the remodel of his midtown home, his favorite material by far is metal. Fridland is something of a human magpie, trawling junk yards and finding unique purposes for the pieces.

When he spotted a GE engine of a military jet at a Tucson salvage yard (now closed),  he bought half of it for $200. He then installed it in his guest bathroom to form the ceiling of the shower. The 3ft by 3ft nickel alloy piece - so thick that you have to use a special torch to get through it - juts out of the roof of Ron's house. He built a special skylight to accommodate it.

Airplane steps form part of Ron Fridlind's Japanese ofuru. Photo by Gillian Drummond

The large shower head is attached by special hangers, and the plumbing fed through it via a torched hole. "This is the part of the engine that burned the kerosene or jet fuel. It's all hand-made and hand welded. These engines are worth a couple hundred thousand dollars. When I shower under it I think 'Wow'," he says.

Ron used some jet engine cowling as the outer part of the shower head. Metal sheets curve around to form a cylindrical shower wall, and saguaro ribs are used as a handle.

He has also used airplane steps outside his Japanese soaking tub, or ofuru. And he is working to use aircraft tail wings to create counters in a 1948 Airstream trailer he is refurbishing.

The rest of Ron Fridlind's guest bathroom.
Photo by Gillian Drummond

Scott Baker, a furniture and interior designer, and a partner in the Tucson firm Baker + Hesseldenz, has used aircraft parts in two pieces of furniture. Just don't ask him what they are.

Emma wall shelf, $2400.
Photo courtesy of Baker + Hesseldenz

For his 'Emma' wall shelf he used aluminum aircraft parts, mahogany and ebony.

Sophia cocktail table, $1200.
Photo courtesy of Baker + Hesseldenz

His 'Sophia' cocktail table is crafted of curly maple, glass, and aluminum aircraft parts.

The jet engine cowling as sculpture at Rob Paulus's office.
Photo by Madeleine Boos

Architect Rob Paulus has turned a jet engine cowling into a sculpture, and tourist attraction, in front of his Tucson offices. "People just walk in and take photos of each other next to it," he says. His daughter plays in it with her friends. And it's lit up at night, with an LED light that shines directly onto it, for added drama.

Rob picked the piece up at Aircraft Restoration & Marketing, a Tucson aircraft services firm that also sells parts, for $1200.  "To have something that big and in such a perfect shape, to me that's a great deal. It's something specific to the southwest, which is a cool gesture to where we live," he says.

Restoration Hardware has got in on the aerodynamic trend, with furniture pieces "inspired by the gleaming nose cones and fuselages of mid-20th-century aircraft". They feature polished aluminum panels, exposed steel screws and rounded corners - although, unlike our own local artisans, RH doesn't use real aircraft parts.

Restoration Hardware's 1950s Spitfire Copenhagen Chair, $1375-$1975 at www.restorationhardware.com

Restoration Hardware's Blackhawk side table, $825-$1700 at www.restorationhardware.com

It started as a non-profit to encourage cycling. Today BICAS is much more - including a breeding ground for accidental artists.

Photo by Gillian Drummond

It began as a pot luck with just a handful of donations to sell, and today it's a two-day party attracting 1500 people and selling between 300 and 400 donated pieces of art.

But the difference between this art auction and others is that every piece is related to the bicycle. Paintings and photographs with cycling themes mix with sculptures, furniture and ornaments made out of bicycle parts.

A chicken made out of derailleurs by Troy Neiman. Photo courtesy of BICAS.

Car seats are turned into steer head skulls. Gears are turned into votive candleholders. Derailleurs are welded together to form the spines of a praying mantis. Book ends are made out of chain rings, belts from inner tubes. A Schwinn wheel is covered in glass and propped up with pieces of frames and chain rings to make a table. Hundreds of wheel spokes form the silvery spines of a sculpture of a javalina.

When crowds gather again this weekend for the 17th annual BICAS silent art auction, there will be bike lovers and art lovers among them - and in many cases both. If cycling is a sustainable mode of transport, a healthy way of life, a joy, it's also - thanks to this auction - an art form.

Part of the function of Bicycle Inter-Community Art & Salvage, a non-profit now in its 23rd year, is to encourage art out of recycling. A corner of the basement warehouse BICAS occupies is set aside for art classes. There are two gallery areas, displaying and selling art.

Photo by Gillian Drummond

The rest of the space is a workshop dedicated to giving the public affordable access to cycling: teaching them about bicycle repair and recycling, running classes on bike maintenance, bike building and touring with bikes, offering free flat tire repair, and selling bicycle parts - most of them recycled, from bikes donated to them.

Tools are on hand, as is the wisdom of the staff. Those who can't afford the $4 an hour or $12 a day fee to use its tools and work in the space can earn credit through working there. One hour of helping out - from sweeping up to stripping down old bikes - earns you $8 in credit.

Sculpture by Zach Lihatsh
Photo Courtesy of BICAS

Colin Holmes wasn't looking to be an artist. His degree is in computer science, and that's what he brings to BICAS, where he oversees the website. But it didn't take long for this part-time software developer to tap into a more creative side of himself, one that took him back to his childhood as the son of an art teacher who encouraged him to do art projects all the time.

"Working here I got really excited about it. I learned welding," says Colin. Like other members of staff at BICAS, he has made art a big part of his life. "I like making functional stuff - coat racks and shelves and dog bowls."

Troy Neiman had worked in welding and also done a little high school dabbling in ceramics when he stopped off in Tucson with a friend 10 years ago to visit  the Gem & Mineral Show. Troy never left. He started volunteering at BICAS and now works there 20 to 30 hours a week, as well as doing metal work and working for the Tucson Museum of Art.

Javalina sculpture by Troy Neiman
Photo by Gillian Drummond

Along the way he, too, became an artist. One of his auction offerings this weekend will be the wheel-spoke javalina. Past creations have included a sculpture of a chicken made out of about 200 front derailleurs.

BICAS exists almost despite itself. Troy admits it was near-bankrupt when he arrived. He has helped to grow it into a place that employs 15 part-time staff and is open six days a week. In keeping with the spirit of the whole BICAS operation, Troy is self-effacing and diplomatic. This isn't a place where you will hear the words 'director' or 'head'. "I'm the shop coordinator," he says when asked his job title. "This is run as a collective."

Only now, after more than two decades, is BICAS getting around to development, putting together a database and considering potential cash donors. "We don't do the hard ask and we should," says Troy. "There's potential there and we haven't really used it."

Troy Neiman
Photo by Gillian Drummond

Its first plan is to raise funds for a secure roof over its head, says Troy. The building it rents, at the bottom of the Citizens' Warehouse at Stone and 6th Avenue, has been slated for demolition for decades. "We need to be ready to purchase it or have a plan if the building is getting torn down," he says.

Meantime, the art auction remains as the non-profit's only fundraiser, one that brings in between $10,000 and $12,000 in sales.

Another of the staff members who will be selling art this weekend is Kylie Walzak, education and outreach coordinator since 2009. "I don't consider myself an artist per se, but in my short time at BICAS I have been incredibly inspired by the creative minds at the organization," she says.

Photo by Gillian Drummond

Kylie believes BICAS has outgrown its space. Since 2008  - when gas prices hit a record high - there's been a surge of interest in bicycles as transportation in Tucson, and also in BICAS, she says. "We are ready as an organization to move out of the basement and into the mainstream. I think this is reflective of the bicycle movement in general. The bicycle is finally becoming more accepted as a form of transportation, not just recreation or pastime for kids."

* You can check out the art auction at the Whistle Stop Depot,127 W. 5th St., (southeast corner of W. 5th St. and N. 10th Ave.) this Sunday, December 2nd from 6 to 9 pm. There will be a party and sneak preview on Saturday from 6 to 10pm. Both nights will feature live music, entertainment and refreshments and are free and open to the public. Donations are gladly accepted. For more information visit www.bicas.org

 Art isn't just for the people, it's for the people to have fun. That's the philosophy of two Tucson artists who invite you to climb on it, touch it, light it up, dive right in.

An exclusive preview of one of Tucson's Modern Streetcar stations.
Photo of model courtesy of JB Public Art/Creative Machines Inc.

What's the point of art if you just walk up to it and walk away? That's the question that makes Joe O'Connell and Blessing Hancock come to work every day and produce the public art pieces they do, in all their size, allure and interactivity.

Blessing Hancock and Joe O'Connell
Photo by Gillian Drummond

They make objects that people can touch, light up, climb onto, lounge inside. "We're really interested in bringing new experiences where people bump into it in their daily life," says Blessing. And the idea is that they take away something from it.

A case in point is the commission they're working on for the new Tucson streetcar: two steel and acrylic exhibits that will stand on either side of the street at Granada and Cushing. When you touch a triangle, it will light up and set off a chain light reaction among the other triangles built into it.

Another is 'Fish Bellies', to be installed on the campus of Texas State University in January: a school of sculptured fish that, says Joe, will be the largest stacked acrylic structure ever made.

The idea is that students will be able to climb into them and read or relax. Individually they will form personal cubbies, together a 'school' or family. "It seems like a metaphor for the college age experience," says Joe.

His workplace is a 14,000 sq ft space spanning an office and two warehouses in south Tucson that's an art studio, engineering firm, body shop and Willy Wonka factory all in one. Creative Machines Inc employs 14 designers, fabricators and engineers, and also has a waiting list of interns. They dream up, design, play with and test (with the many museum exhibits they design, they invite the public in to watch how people interact with them).

'Fish Bellies' Photo courtesy of JB Public Art/Creative Machines Inc.

Current 'toys' include a squirt-gun that spouts wax (for Austin Children's Museum). "The best museum exhibits allow a person to do something that hasn't been done before," says Joe. Oftentimes, American museum curators ask too many questions about how an exhibit will educate, says Joe, which - in his opinion - is not the job of informal education. Exhibits such as the wax gun allow people to create something themselves, and education naturally comes from that, he says.  Some U.S.museums "get it", the Europeans "get it", says Joe.

It's something his parents certainly 'got', too. Joe grew up in northern New Jersey, the son of a math teacher and an artist/homemaker who composted and recycled and "thought things through for themselves", teaching their children to do the same.

Joe and his two sisters each had their own work bench. "My dad was a tinkerer. I grew up in a family of makers. I didn't have LEGO, I had to make anything I had." In Second Grade that would be linking cardboard tubes together. Later it would be a skateboard powered with a chainsaw.

The interactive Streetcar exhibit takes shape. Photo courtesy of JB Public Art/Creative Machines Inc.

Creative Machines Inc: not so much an art studio as a fun factory. Photo by Gillian Drummond

Blessing grew up the daughter of hippies, first in Seattle, then Tucson. "They were pretty alternative, hence my name," she laughs.

"I was always making things as a kid, with beads, origami - I loved setting things together." She didn't turn her attention fully to art until attending the University of Arizona, where she gained an undergraduate degree in sculpture, then went into landscape architecture. "I found it wasn't as creative a I had hoped."

She went knocking on a few artists' doors and when she visited Joe he knew within minutes that they would make a good working partnership, he says.

The two partner in JB Public Art, while Joe also runs Creative Machines. He is also owner of a company he bought from artist and sculptor George Rhoads, who creates 'kinetic' sculptures'. Huge interlocking gadgets and giant hamster-wheel-type affairs, they send balls gliding down tubes, set off percussion devices or spin metal birds in the air. They're usually to be found in the lobbies of businesses, airports hospitals and art museums. They sell for up to $200,000 each, providing a reliable source of income for O'Connell amid the far less reliable commissions of art and museum work.

"Desert O'
Photo courtesy of JB Public Art/Creative Machines Inc.

In Tucson, JB Public Art is probably best known for the Desert O, a light-up sculpture outside the Tucson Museum of Art. O'Connell and Blessing are currently updating it, replacing the LED bulbs with better ones so that, by the Holidays, it will shine even brighter.

The streetcar project - to be painted bright orange - will hopefully be installed along with the car in March or April.

'Cocoon', which will be installed on the east side of Tucson. Photo courtesy of JB Public Art/Creative Machines Inc.

The duo is also working on 'Cocoon', a steel and LED sculpture commissioned by Tucson Pima Ats Council for the east side of Tucson. The idea is rebirth and transformation; people will be able to walk through it and, through a shadow theater effect with the lighting, see themselves projected onto the surface of the sculpture.

As the home page of their website says, "Play is our full time job". But still, it's a business, and one Joe and Blessing take seriously.

'Wondrous'
Photo courtesy of JB Public Art/Creative Machines Inc.

If they don't have the machinery to manufacture what they want, they build it. The thought processes behind some of the sculptures run deeper than might be obvious to the naked eyed. A steel sculpture at Marana's public library, designed by Joe, features mixed-up phrases from the most checked-out library books in Pima County, among them the Harry Potter series and Danielle Steel.

Says Joe: "Every year the librarian tells us of people who look at the words and find Satanic messages in them." He stresses that the mash-up of words is computer-generated. Like all things here, it may look fun and even random, but the design, engineering and philosophy run deep.

Photo by Gillian Drummond

Find out more about Creative Machines at www.creativemachines.com and JB Public Art at www.jbpublicart.com

 Forget flocked and fleur-de-lis. Are you ready for some books, scrap wood and tin on your walls?

Inside 14 Grande. Photo courtesy of Deborah Bowness

Think wallpaper and you think patterns, colors and repetition. And while wallpaper designs have grown up, some of them have also grown out. Through clever photography and printing techniques, they're popping out of the wall and creating teasing life-size images.

Photo courtesy of Deborah Bowness

Take Deborah Bowness, an English designer who produces ”tromp l’oeil for the 20^th century”. Her depiction of life-size furniture, vintage clothing and other domestic objects creates the illusion of 3-dimensional space on a flat wall. Clients include Philippe Starck, The Clarence hotel in Dublin, and Soho House.

Not only is Bowness bringing wallpaper into the foreground, she's making it function interactively. Placing a real chair in front of a “fake” couch on Deborah's wallpaper enhances the illusion and tricks the eye.

But that's not all. Deborah's art-on-paper uses muted colors and an intentional aging effect to evoke a “past” memory to a current space. She does it by combining digital printing, silkscreen, photomontage and hand painting.

"I like the instant results you get from photography and silk screen printing. capturing a moment in time. preserving life. documenting life through everyday objects. creating a mood of nostalgia through the patina of materials." says Deborah.

Photo courtesy of Deborah Bowness

She photographs her own vintage furniture and clothing for the wallpaper, although she also does custom work, printing a dress or chair in a color to match a client's decor.

Deborah turned the wallpaper world on its head while studying constructed textiles at the Royal College of Art in London. It was the mid-'90s, when minimalism and paint led the way in decor. Deborah set out to challenge the preconceived notion of wallpaper as a repeat pattern.

She says she never intended that her work dominate a room but, rather, to playfully interact with the objects and furniture around it.  Her 22" x 11' wallpaper drops run around $280 each.

Drops of 'Illusion of Grandeur'
Photo courtesy of Deborah Bowness

Wallpaper Drop: Frock, Day Too Chair, Coat, Ballgown
Photo courtesy of Deborah Bowness

Deborah Bowness is not the only master of illusion. Dutch designer Piet Hein Eek, best known for his intricate scrap wood furniture, is now creating digital wallpaper simulating the patterns and textures of his furniture, and perhaps just scraps of what's left around his shop.

Scrapwood PHE-03 Wallpaper
Photo courtesy of Vertigo Home

Scrapwood Wallpaper PHE-02
Photo courtesy of Vertigo Home

Manufacturer NLXL has a number of these wallpapers by different designers, but leading the way is the scrapwood, sold by Vertigo Home in Laguna Beach, California. Says Martin Ulrich, co-founder of Vertigo Home: "Scrapwood was the first wallpaper in the NLXL Collection and the best seller, still selling very well. It really is very versatile." He says it goes with all kinds of interiors, whether your interior is cottagey or more modern.

No.3 Concrete Wallpaper
Photo courtesy of Vertigo Home

Also worth watching at Vertigo Home are Concrete by Piet Boon which sells for $299 per 19" x 9.83 yard roll and Brooklyn Tins from Merci store in Paris sells for $359  per 19" x 10.94 yard roll. The wallpaper - is in super high resolution on heavy duty wallpaper. It's colorfast and washable too.

The trick with photo-wallpapers is that there is no prescription for use. Gone are the days of painfully matching up sheets and patterns to make it look perfect. Many of Deborah's pieces are already skewed, and she advocates using just one piece, or mixing sheets together - the more haphazard, sometimes, the better.

No.1 Brooklyn Tins Wallpaper at Vertigo Home Shop, Laguna Beach, CA
Photo courtesy of Vertigo Home

Visit Vertigo Home to view their full collection of wallpapers and other stylish goods for the design savvy.

Visit Wallpaper by Deborah Bowness for her full collection.

Claudine Villardito turned childhood dress-up games into an expensive habit. And that habit became Black Cat Vintage, one of Tucson best-kept secrets.

Claudine Villardito: no more need for rifling through her mother's closet. Photo by Gillian Drummond

Visitors to the first annual Tucson Modernism Week will be in for a treat on opening night. A series of live 'sculptures' will pepper Chase Bank on Broadway Boulevard, the venue of the opening reception, the models dressed head-to-toe in clothing from the 1950s and 1960s.

The clothes come courtesy of Black Cat Vintage and its owner, Claudine Villardito, a woman whose childhood games of dress-up were different than those of most girls.

Claudine's mother, Tucson businesswoman Gale Maly, owned designer rags by the likes of Chanel and Christian Dior. Yet she let her daughter rifle through her clothes closet, which was when Claudine's passion for vintage began.

Claudine as style icon Audrey Hepburn.
Photo courtesy of Black Cat Vintage

At college in Chicago, she would scour estate sales and soon was building up not only a collection, but a wealth of knowledge. "I would stop people in the street and ask about their clothes. I could tell vintage from twenty paces away," she says.

Claudine looks on vintage clothes collecting the same as she does saving cats (another of her habits). "I felt the urge to save these things because I didn't know what was about to happen to them. I anthropomorphize these clothes. It's got personality, a name, it's a friend and I know that it needs me."

Still, once she got married and settled in Phoenix, her husband told her enough was enough. Their closet was "the size of a phone booth" and they simply couldn't keep all the clothes. A bad car accident forced her to be sedentary for 18 months (she was studying veterinary medicine at the time), and she started researching vintage clothes preservation, archival and restoration.

Now back in Tucson, where she largely grew up, Claudine and Black Cat Vintage are appropriately situated in a 1957 building  on Tucson Boulevard near Broadway. Here, on any given day you'll find a window display of polka dot and tiki swimwear, or a vignette with vintage sewing machine, kitchen appliances and I Love Lucy-themed mannequin. But despite the colorful store front, Black Cat Vintage does most of its trade online and is strictly by appointment only.

Photo by Gillian Drummond

Claudine gently explains that she cannot sell to "a student wanting something for a costume party", that her beloved clothes will go only to serious collectors and wearers, people who will treat them right. It's that personal attachment thing, she says. "I try to seek out people who are going to enjoy them, so for the most part my clientele are enthusiasts. The second group of clients would be collectors themselves, who want to invest. And lastly there's the small clientele of costume directors. I'll give them a discount for the press it allows."

Photo by Gillian Drummond

The clothes, hats and purses, ranging from 1920s flapper jackets up to 1970s items, hang in a tall warehouse-type space that resembles the wardrobe of a film set. Clients are seen individually, so that they have the whole space to themselves.

Quietly but persistently, Claudine has gained respect in the vintage community. Consignment store owners call her with the inside intel on an estate sale that's about to happen. Relatives of mid century designers call her wanting to re-build a clothing collection. Singer Lily Allen began her own vintage clothing store in London with pieces from Claudine. One of Claudine's pieces appeared in the second season of Mad Men.

Betty Grable's dress. Photo by Gillian Drummond

Each item she purchases is cleaned and treated for pests. If repairs are needed, Claudine does the hand-sewing, or uses an expert machinist and a re-weaver. Her clothes carry not just history but gossip and, of course, glamour, from Hollywood Golden Age actresses to mid century socialites here and in Europe. Hanging in the racks is  a dress by the designer of Grace Kelly's wedding dress. There's also an outfit by Jacques Fath, a prominent French fashion designer and contemporary of Christian Dior. Fath secretly copied one of his haute couture pieces for a French socialite and, realizing he wasn't supposed to reproduce it, refused to put his label on it. Instead he signed it on the hem.

Claudine's favorite is a dress custom-made for film star Betty Grable. In black satin with brown velvet flocking, it was a one-of-a-kind. The cost? A cool $12,000 - and even then only to the right person, says Claudine.

At Tucson Modernism Week's reception, Claudine and Sydney Ballesteros - who is fast making a name for herself here for her vintage fashion styling - will put on a fashion exhibition with a difference. They will dress six women in clothing popular between 1955 and 1965 and place them on pedestals around the Chase Bank building. "They will represent living sculptures evocative of the time being celebrated," says Claudine. There will even be placards on each pedestal, museum-style, explaining the clothing and its era. Claudine will be on hand to take questions - and you can bet she won't be stumped for answers.

Photo by Gillian Drummond

Tucson Modernism Week's opening reception will be held at one of the city's landmark mid century buildings, Chase Bank at 3033 E. Broadway. The event is free but reservations are required.

Meet Max Gottschalk and Cade Hayes, two furniture designers separated by five decades but who share many similarities. In their own unique ways they are purveyors of a southwest-meets-modernist aesthetic that's uniquely Tucson.

Max Gottschalk with his chess set.
Photo courtesy of Stan Schuman

Calexico. Sonoran hot dogs. The backdrop of High Chaparral. A glimpse of Linda Ronstadt, Gabby Giffords or Paul McCartney. People come to Tucson for many things, but seminal furniture designers is not one of them.

Sling Chair - Max Gottschalk
Photo by Nicky HedayatZadeh
Courtesy of Red

Yet the city was home to a man who inspired a slew of architects and designers in Tucson and beyond: the brilliant and eccentric Max Gottschalk.

A man who wore expensive leather shoes with the backs intentionally cut out of them, didn't go anywhere without his navy blue blazer - even in Tucson's triple-digit heat – and had been known to play the cello naked, Max Gottschalk was the stuff of legend.

Sling Chair - Max Gottschalk
Photo by Nicky HedayatZadeh
Courtesy of Red

This little-known modern industrial designer - whose name was linked to the invention of the open-air freezer and the original bar code - lived and worked in Tucson from  the 1950s to 2000. Like that other Arizona legend, architect Frank Lloyd Wright, he had disciples. Those still living describe him as energetic and avant-garde (see column below).

Max Gottschalk used a blend of 'raw' and industrial materials in his furniture. The relaxed lines of his pieces, mainly chairs, and the materials used capture the spirit of the time. But the way he executed them was distinctly Max: thicker leather, welded and bolted steel, all with a rugged spirit of the American West.

His 'K' chair has been likened in form to the Barcelona chair, a refined modern classic by architect Ludwig Mies Van Der Rohe. Says architect and friend Frank Mascia: "You could sit in a K chair for hours."

Cade Hayes
Photo by Jeff Goldberg - ESTO

Five decades later, history may be repeating itself with an architect and furniture designer named Cade Hayes. Along with best friend Jesus Robles, Cade makes up the architecture firm DUST. But in his spare time he makes chairs out of blackened steel and stitched leather. Some of them are backless, or their backs have great gaps in them. One resembles a praying mantis. Another is named Tree Pose because of the yoga-like shape of the legs.

But while the chairs may look like style takes precedence over function, Cade - like Max - is adamant that it's the opposite. "The goal is to make them comfortable, otherwise I wouldn't put them out there," says Cade, who adds that the backless ones are pretty comfy too.

They weren't always that way.  His first chair, made of wood, was distinctly uncomfortable, says Cade, and eventually fell apart. The second, made of steel, was strong enough but the leather was too thin, and because of that it grew difficult to sit in.

Lessons learned, Cade soon hit his stride. He now uses half hides and shoulder cuts of cow from Tandy Leather in Tucson, which he cuts, stretches and, for the most part, hand-stitches himself. He sources steel from Santa Rita Steel & Hardware .

Crow Chair - Cade Hayes
Photo by Cade Hayes

Prior to last month he had produced only about 13 chairs, many of them different shapes. All of them sold, largely with the help of Eric Firestone Gallery, now based in East Hampton, NY. His chairs have made their way to San Francisco, New York and Minneapolis, and prices range from $2000 - $5000.

He made another 27 to stage a property designed and built by DUST on Tucson's west side, featured on this year's AIA home tour. "It was a matter of logistics," he says of this self-imposed rush order. "It was cheaper to make them myself than to find an authentic piece or rent reproductions of mid century furniture. But would I do it again? I don't know!"

Why steel and leather? "I think it's because it's what's here. There's not a lot of wood in the desert. And I like to juxtapose the cool hard steel with something natural," says Cade. He used to watch his welder dad as a kid. Then when he began tinkering with furniture design at college, he asked his dad for some welding lessons.

Pecos Chair - Cade Hayes
Photo by Cade Hayes

And why chairs? Cade says his fascination comes from the fact that they have to be comfortable. "For me, chairs are the most difficult pieces of furniture to build. A chair holds your body." They're a study, he says, in “proportion, material and strength”, and have to accommodate people of various sizes.

His business partner Jesus is in on the furniture-making too, building tables out of native wood, like mesquite, and blackened iron. For two people used to working on building projects that take years to come to fruition, furniture-making is instant gratification.

Tree Pose Chair - Cade Hayes
Photo by Cade Hayes

"You're able to explore materials and connections and details in a tangible way, to work with your hands and understand the craft," says Jesus. Adds Cade. "And it's relaxing. It's like meditation. There's not a client, there's usually not a budget."

Cade grew up in New Mexico and went to architecture school in Texas, (he came to Tucson to work for architect Rick Joy.) He says he only learned of iconic furniture designers after he began making his own. It's no surprise, given the mid century modern bent to his designs, that he names other designers from that era as favorites. And among them is Max Gottschalk; he owns two of Max's chairs, one a gift from Rick Joy.

Cochise Chair - Cade Hayes
Photo by Cade Hayes

Rick was a friend of Max's and owns ten of his chairs - many of them gifts from the man himself. "He was just so authentic and far-reaching. He was constantly trying new things," Rick says of Max.

He describes Cade's chairs as "very masculine but refined", adding: "A great deal of craft goes into making them, in the same way that Max did his."

Other influences for Cade include Arizona-born mid century furniture designer Walter Lamb, Danish designer Poul Kjaerholm, and Brazilian architect and designer Mendes de Rocha.

Eric Firestone Gallery used to sell Max Gottschalk's work too, and as it happens the two share the same Tucson saddle-maker, R. Lloyd Davis and Sons. But that, and the Southwest-meets-modernist aesthetic,  is where the similarities between the two end. 

Whereas the 35-year-old Cade is thoughtful and soft-spoken, Max had a larger-than-life persona and knew how to be the center of attention, say those who knew him. 

Cochise by Cade Hayes

Max Gottshalk: a complicated, creative genius

Max Gottschalk came to Tucson as an industrial designer working for Hughes Aircraft, and from the 1950s he was churning out furniture designs with what seemed like passion and duty in equal measure. His followers at the time say he couldn't help himself; his creative genius drove him to keep designing.

Sculptural Leather Lounge - Max Gottschalk
Photo by Nicky HedayatZadeh
Courtesy of Red

Tucson architect Stan Schuman met Max while Stan was an architecture student at the U of A. Enlisted to draw his furniture designs for eventual mass production, Stan became Max's protege and confidante. The mass production didn't happen; Max was reportedly so busy designing that he wouldn't devote time to marketing, and thus never found the wider recognition he was said to crave.

"K" Chair - Max Gottschalk
Photo by Madeleine Boos

“Max was incredibly interesting and physically draining,” says Stan. "He had the kind of energy that could suck the life out of you. Max couldn’t stand a void in the conversation and felt obligated to fill it, and he had a depth of knowledge about more subjects than anyone I’d ever met.”

Local architect Frank Mascia taught with Max at Pima Community College where students fondly referred to his interior and industrial design classes as Max I, Max II, Max III, etc. He remembers a “pointy-headed guy figuring out how to put a helicopter in your garage”.

Frank likens him to Frank Lloyd Wright, an avant-garde presence and "one of the most original thinkers I've ever met".

Tucson sculptor Curt Brill remembers his first meeting with Max and the designer's uncanny way of sizing people up. Not even knowing Curt was going through a break-up Max stared at him and said, "You should forget about her."

Bar Stool - Max Gottschalk
Photo by Madeleine Boos

Brill is the keeper of a Marlon Brando mold, a life-sized mask Max was said to have made of the actor while they shared an apartment in New York.

Max was the son of classically trained musicians and a friend of jazz musician Bobby Short. He was known to play the cello, but only in front of the window of that same New York City apartment, in the nude.

Stan remembers picking Max up one mid-summer Tucson day. The temperature was 106 degrees, yet Max was wearing a heavy wool overcoat. Asked why, Max replied: "I don't let my body dictate."

A collector, he counted among his possessions various chess sets, engineered contraptions from expensive stereo systems, and cars ranging from a 16-cylinder Ferrari to a Volkswagen bus and a Corvair.

Curt Brill recalls that Max was the first person he knew to buy a hybrid Prius.

Max insisted the car salesman drive him to Curt’s home to ring a gong in an effort to ritually punctuate the moment. Then Max handed over the money for the car.

"You had to go with it or you'd miss half of Max," says Brill. "He had a huge belief in himself but he also wanted people to find the best in themselves, and explore their potential."

Max's Signature

Max's furniture shows up in furniture galleries and auction houses throughout the world and goes for $1200 and up. Or you may come across a Max Gottschalk in a neglected corner of a Tucson home. Check for the unmistakable signature leather imprint.

* For more on the golden age of mid century modern furniture design, including Max Gottschalk, visit Tucson Modernism Week's free lecture by architect/designer Andie Zelnio, 3pm, 2930 E. Broadway. More at www.tucsonmod.com.