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 Steel isn’t exactly new on the home décor scene, but it’s safe to say it’s never been more fun. We take a look at some interesting ways – and new-found purposes - involving metal. By Samantha Cummings.

Margaret Joplin designed this salvaged steel 'weave' for a client's yard. Photo courtesy of Margaret Joplin

1. The landscape architect

It takes one step into the office courtyard of landscape architect Margaret Joplin for a creative mind to run wild.

Founder and owner of Design Collaborations, Margaret has made her office space a home to dozens of steel, stainless steel, and aluminum scraps that are given a second chance, each telling an individual story of a past life.

Margaret Joplin's Design Collaborations studio. Photo by Samantha Cummings.

The first home to these metal scraps is often at a steel fabrication plant. Once a desired cut is made into the sheet of steel, the leftover scrap metal is known as the ‘drop.’ These drops are exactly what Margaret wants, and some local fabricators are more than willing fulfill that need.

The 'severe tire damage' dropping. Photo courtesy of Margaret Joplin

“They call me up and say, ‘Hey, come take a look at this stuff. Come pick out what you want,’” says Margaret. “They kind of get a feel of what I like.”

For instance, one dropping features the outlines of what was used to hold down the steel spikes responsible for popping your tires if you disobey those signs warning of severe tire damage if you back up your car.

Now, the steel sheet with triangle-like cutouts has the potential to be used as a door, a table, a gate, a trellis, screening or an art piece for your wall. “It’s all about what somebody wants,” says Margaret.

Half of the fun is trying to guess what each sheet of steel was used to make. “Sometimes you think, ‘What the heck were they making? Like, I have no idea. With all these little doo-dads,” wonders Margaret.

Some sheets of steel display a beautiful symmetry across the entire plane. But on others, you can tell the fabricator instructed their employee to, “Just fit as many of these things on as you can.”

More use of salvaged drops in the yard of one of Margaret Joplin's clients. Photo courtesy of Margaret Joplin

Margaret’s collection includes the droppings of mailbox flags, trapezoidal guardrails used at Dove Mountain, various letters used to make a sign, and even the top of a water tank.

At the end of the day, says Margaret, it’s all about the hunt. "And that's what makes it so interesting - you never know what you're going to get." She welcomes any passersby of her Design Collaborations Studio, at 403 N. 6th Ave. #157, to search through her metal scraps and conduct a hunt of their own.

  2. The architect

Mary Hardin has been teaching at the University of Arizona’s College of Architecture since 1997. Her favorite class to teach, called ‘Design Build Studio,’ requires students to both design and build a small house from the ground up.

Two years ago, Mary decided it was time to build a house of her own. The architect hired to help her, Jason Gallo, was one of her former students, who happened to take that very ‘Design Build Studio’ course more than ten years ago. Together they would build the first modern residence in the Tucson planned community known as the Mercado District.

Mary Hardin's home in the Mercado District. Photo by Liam Frederick.

When the house appears on the AIA Southern Arizona/Modernism Week home tour in a few weeks, Jason’s use of steel is bound to catch a few eyes.

The overall design was inspired by one piece: a brise-soleil. Historically, a brise-soleil - French for ‘sun breaker’ - is a horizontal projection that extends from the sun-side façade of a building. It prevents facades with a large amount of glass from overheating during the summer. Because she wanted windows but not the relentless Arizona sun, Mary was a perfect brise-soleil candidate.

The brise-soleil allows sunlight into the living room during winter months. Photo by Liam Frederick.

Jason designed a vertical brise-soleil, standing 9’-4’’ by 9’-4”, which provided Mary with the view she wanted, prevented overheating, and simultaneously served as the main architectural element. The structure is made up by 16” steel squares, each with a depth of 8”.

“I think that was actually the beginning thread,” says Jason. “We figured out we could make it out of steel and then when she wanted other pieces, I thought instead of having lots of different steel elements, have one that has a very similar vocabulary so that you aren’t bombarded with a lot of different designs in one house.”

After passing by the brise-soleil, guests are welcomed by a steel gate, which mimics that square design. Next came a steel exterior staircase, which Jason recalls being the biggest project of all.

The interior of Mary Hardin's home, with a view to the steel staircase. Photo by Liam Frederick.

“I didn’t want it to be solid,” says Mary. “I wanted a way to see through it. So he figured out a way to fold the steel so it could be these separate pieces that you could see through the sides and underneath.”

Jason had to also come up with a way to make the staircase architecturally pleasing, yet safe. “This one has slots cut out of it to let the water drain, but then I didn’t want it to be slippery, so I added a steel piece which is raised for traction,” he says.

Make your way up the staircase and you are led to a third steel design: the patio guardrail. One side overlooks the home’s courtyard, and from the other, you have front row seats to the Day of the Dead Parade and 4th of July fireworks.

The steel patio guardrail of Mary Hardin's home. Photo by Liam Frederick.

The last and final piece of Mary’s steel collection is a back gate. This still features a square design, but instead of being transparent, a solid steel sheet was placed on the back to give a “real beefy” look, says Mary, adding: “It was such a fun process.”

3. The homeowner

As part of the team at solar firm Technicians for Sustainability, Tim Hagyard is usually working on ways to ensure that Southern Arizona’s natural resources are used efficiently. But, for the past year and a half, Tim has been working on a different set of problems: fixing up rental property to sell, with his brother and mother.

A steel drop re-used by Tim Hagyard. Photo courtesy of Tim Hagyard.

Just like Margaret Joplin, Tim turned to steel drops to solve a number of privacy and aesthetic issues on his property. He started his steel search on Craigslist and was eventually let to a four-wheel-drive shop that was trying to sell the steel remnants used to laser cut various parts.

“I went and bought ten sheets of it and I wasn’t sure if I was going to use it all. I think they were $25 a sheet, so I figured I would use them up some how.” By the end of his project, Tim only had two left.

The steel door screen that blocks onlooking street view. Photo by Tim Hagyard.

The other eight were used to create additional privacy by screening the front door from street view and the carport from onlooking neighbors, among other things. “I wanted to screen the door off from the street looking in, because that house is on a cul-de-sac,” says Tim. “And I planted a bougainvillea there, so I could give it a structure to grow up over time.”

For both screens, in front of the door and on the side of the carport, Tim had to weld a frame onto the sheets of metal, and cement each post into the ground.

Salvaged steel drops enhance the yard at Tim Hagyard's former home. Photo by Tim Hagyard.

In the backyard, instead of replacing an old and unappealing fence, he decided to place the steel sheets in front of the eyesore, ultimately creating an architectural piece that also doubles as a trellis.

Next, Tim found a way to unify a 3 ft. wall and an adjacent 6 ft. gate fit in. The unusually short wall was given some height by having a portion of the steel sheet cemented on top.

A steel countertop inside Tim's former home completes the steel theme. Photo by Tim Hagyard.

And lastly, Tim brought the theme of steel from outside in – with a steel bar counter. All it took was purchasing a 3 ft by8 ft. sheet of steel, cutting his desired shape, and building it a support structure.

It looks like Tim wasn’t the only one who loved this steel-themed fixer-upper; the house sold three months ago.

* For full details of the AIA/Modernism Week home tour on Sunday October 6, keep checking AIA Southern Arizona's website, and the next issue of 3 Story Magazine.

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As if the GLOW light-up art festival wasn't electrifying enough, this year one performance group will go high-voltage. By Gillian Drummond.

Wendy pouring electro-elixir. Photo by Ruben Palma.

The idea came to Carl Noggle in high school in Prescott, Arizona back in 1958. He and some science-loving friends had constructed their own Tesla coils based on instructions in an old book. Some "cool" experiments and a few 4-feet-long sparks later, they had another thought: what if they could somehow work a human body into it, and have the high-voltage, low-current electrical circuit make sparks jump off people's fingertips?

Sasha standing on her head on the Tesla coil. Photo by Ruben Palma.

The idea stayed with him for decades as he went on to become an electronic engineer, designing equipment for lightning research, setting up his own consultancy, The Lightning Works, and putting on educational shows at schools and museums.

And then technology finally caught up with Carl's brilliant notion, and suddenly it seemed possible that he might jump a person with up to half a million volts.

While other performers - including the magician David Blaine - can pass electricity through themselves by wearing a heavy chain mail suit, Carl calls the suits "cumbersome". The technology Carl's performers use is proprietary and he believes nobody else in the country is using it for artistic purposes. All he'll say is that it's like having a set of electrical conductors under your costume, and it's hidden enough that his performers can wear whatever outfits they like.

Wendy Craft, one of Carl's performers, says the experience doesn't hurt; after all, it's not like the electricity is passing through her, it's passing through her conductive 'suit'. "Sometimes  you feel the energy. It's like an itch or a tickle. And when I get down [from the coil] I'll be tired."

Wendy, the woman who laughs at 500,000 volts. Photo by Ruben Palma.

Circus Amperean, the group Carl has formed, has been one of the finale acts at the All Souls Procession in Tucson for the last three years, and performs regularly on Friday nights at Sky Bar. This month, for the first time, the group will join almost a hundred other artists at the tenth annual GLOW, a two-day light-up art festival at the Triangle L Ranch in Oracle, an hour north of Tucson.

The festival is always timed to be as close to the September full moon as possible. Artists and performers are asked to come up with something that glows. Visitors, who are encouraged to wear glow-in-the-dark costumes (and sensible footwear), are treated to illuminated art, fire dancers and live music.

© 2012 A.T. Willett Photographer.

Artist Sharon Holnback, the owner of the ranch, got the idea for GLOW while taking a walk one day along one of the desert paths on her expansive  property. "I thought, what would be the most unexpected thing you would expect out here? I've always liked things with lights. I love luminarias. It kind of combined for me all the things that I loved about the place: the desert at night, the full moon, it was fun, it was artists."

At the time, Sharon was still missing city life; she had moved to the ranch in 2000, after running two art galleries in midtown Tucson. So she decided to bring the artists, and the art, up to her in Oracle. She asked her artist friends to come up with illuminated art and charged the public $5 at the door. That first year, 500 people showed up, from Tucson and from the town of Oracle itself.

"After that, everywhere I went, [people were talking about] GLOW. It sparked something in people and I think that's still true because it's a really out-of-the-ordinary experience," says Sharon.

Up to 200 artists, musicians and performers have taken part in the past. This year, Sharon is keeping it to under a hundred performers and, for the first time, is supplying shuttle buses from Tucson Mall. Also new this year is free, off-site parking in Oracle and free shuttles to the front gate of the ranch (see link below for details).

© 2012 A.T. Willett Photographer.

The acts perform for free, and proceeds go to the ranch, a 50-acre, six-parcel place consisting of twelve buildings, including vacation rental cottages, a barn that has been converted into an art gallery, and a gift shop. "I'm into sharing this place with people. But between the repairs and maintenance, I'm never making any money here," says Sharon.

GLOW is a draw not just for Tucsonans, but for the people of the small town of Oracle. As such, it has created a close bond between Sharon and her neighbors. After a raid by Pima County Sheriff's Department, and subsequent investigation, when GLOW was in its third year, Sharon had her doubts about continuing. Sheriffs questioned her special event permit (Sharon maintains all that was needed was a verbal permit, which she had). Everyone was forced to vacate the premises just an hour into the event.

At a community meeting that took place in Oracle between the Sheriff's Department and the public, Sharon was bowled over by the public's support. She tears up now talking about it. "It was packed. They quizzed [the police representative] for over an hour, saying 'What are we going to tell our grandkids? How are we going to tell them to trust the police?' I thought, 'This is my community and they are awesome'," says Sharon.

Sharon Holnback glows at GLOW. Photo by Jeff Smith

The show went on, and today, Sharon promises that GLOW will happen, come rain or shine. Sometimes the rain has been so heavy that people have been wading, Woodstock-like, through mud. There have been instances when musicians couldn't perform, when outlets were saturated with water. She has even seen her festival through tornado warnings. And she admits that every GLOW she, her ranch staff and the volunteers who help, cut it close. "It's always down to the wire, and I'm always crazy at the end," she says.

© 2012 A.T. Willett Photographer.

Sharon's hope is that she can extend the GLOW idea around the year, to have a sculpture park at the ranch that is open to the public, and to maximize the ranch's use of solar so that she doesn't even use much electricity. "It could be GLOW twenty-four hours a day," she smiles.

Joining Circus Amperean as GLOW first-timers this year will be the The Jonestown Band,  and a group of students from the Southwest University of Visual Arts. The latter is planning to construct a lit, swaying, tentacled sea anemone made from water bottles. Metal artist Rand Carlson will be at GLOW for the second time, this year with what you might call a literally bipolar piece of art: two 6-foot rods that take turns lighting up saying 'Did too' and 'Did not'.

Rand says he finds creating something electrical a challenge, but in a good way. "I think GLOW is considered to be an edgy [arts] festival. It's exciting in terms of its parameters."

"That's the part I love, is dealing with the artists. That's the curator part - the presentation, where is that person going to go?" says Sharon. For her part, she has been producing her own pieces of artwork that will be on display in the barn/gallery. These include black and white photographs mounted on colored glass, then airbrushed, and an installation piece with CCTV footage of desert critters at its nucleus.

"GLOW is a three-ring circus," says Sharon. "No-one is going to have the same experience." But she is sure about one thing: "It's a chance for adults to be kids."

© 2012 A.T. Willett Photographer.

* The tenth annual GLOW takes place September 20th and 21st, 7pm-11pm, at  Triangle L Ranch, 2805 N. Triangle L Ranch Road, Oracle. More information, including shuttle bus details, here. 

* Listen to our radio feature on GLOW, in association with NPR 89.1 FM.

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The owners of Purple Nickel are breaking all the rules with their portrait photography studio. There's only one requirement: you have to have lots of fun. By Gillian Drummond.

Photo by Purple Nickel.

When Casia Fletcher looks back at her family photographs, it's the candid, unplanned shots that strike a chord: Casia, still a baby, sitting with her dad on his Honda motorcycle; Casia as a kid playing in a pile of leaves.

"It's so real," says the University of Arizona graduate of that photo with the leaves. She also smiles at the memory of a photo of her sister wearing a vintage dress on her dad's property in Marana. "That photo could totally work right now," says Casia.

The last one wasn't candid or unplanned; Casia took it herself, as part of her teenage experimentation with photography. But it speaks volumes about Casia's need to "not do something traditional, to do something different".

Photo by Purple Nickel.

So it's no wonder that Purple Nickel, the portrait photography studio Casia runs with her husband Eric, is out of the ordinary. First off, they don't use the studio much. Their preference is to capture their clients - families, graduates, business people wanting a different-looking head shot -  in unexpected places. Backdrops might include concrete bypasses, brick walls and random sidewalks. The desert makes an appearance sometimes, but cliches like cowboy hats among the saguaros are out. Instead, it might be a big-sky shot with a kid, tiny, running towards the edge of the frame.

Cora Joy. Photo by Purple Nickel.

Secondly, the shots are unexpected. Babies scream. Kids scrunch up their faces. Sometimes you only see the back of the children's heads. The top half of the parents' bodies might be cut off completely, to showcase the toddler at their feet. There may be just the limb of a child as his or her leap into the air is caught on camera.

A big difference with Purple Nickel is that their subjects are allowed - and encouraged - to be themselves, to get a little crazy, and to laugh. To Casia and Eric, worlds, and families, are imperfect, casual and fun. And so to portray a family sitting in a row with forced smiles would be disingenuous.

"It's a reaction to the traditional portrait studio," says Eric. If anything, Purple Nickel is the anti-portrait studio, focusing instead on those candid shots that are taken by family members, but that become their own family treasures. "The candid stuff was left for mom and dad to take, and that's the stuff everyone wants. The problem with all of these shots is mom and dad are never in them. Now you get the opportunity to be in them," he says.

They meet with the families or individuals first, find out what they love, discuss appropriate outfits, and get to know the kids. Then, at the shoot, both Casia and Eric take pictures. Their styles are similar enough yet different enough - Casia gets the good close-ups, Eric likes wider shots and ones where buildings feature prominently - to provide a rounded package for their clients.

"We both have our distinct styles but aesthetically they're the same," says Eric. "I like wider, bigger shots, Casia is much better with closer, tighter shots." Adds Casia: "So the clients get variation."

Photo by Purple Nickel.

When they start shooting the photographs, especially of families, they create their own rhythm. Years of being together, and several years now of taking photographs together, has created a silent artistic shorthand between them, and respect for how each other is handling the shoot and the clients. Casia explains: "We know when to step back. If Eric is totally bonding with the kids, then I [step back]. Sometimes I have to say 'Am I hogging?' or 'Do you want to step in?'"

Casia and Eric of Purple Nickel. Photo by Chelsea Blue

The couple met in 2002, whilst at the University of Arizona, on a blind date that was arranged by a mutual friend. They moved in together a year later, and were married in 2006 in what Casia calls a "DIY wedding", a casual, low-key affair held in the backyard of downtown Tucson's historic Stillwell House. There was a friend officiating, another friend playing guitar, Tucson architect Page Repp DJ'ing, and a Polaroid photo guestbook. Pomp and ceremony are not this couple's thing, which is one reason why they don't shoot weddings for work. The exception was their friends Darci Hazelbaker and Dale Rush, owners of the architecture and design firm HA/RU, who twisted Casia and Eric's arms into photographing their own wedding in rural New Mexico.

Purple Nickel operates out of a former tire warehouse in the Firestone building at 6th Street and 6th Avenue, a place that now houses retailers, galleries and artists. Together with the likes of the Conrad Wilde Gallery, OZMA Atelier, the Wee Gallery and, close by, the new Tap & Bottle, these businesses are helping create a burgeoning little arts district just off of Tucson's counter-culture hub, 4th Avenue.

To boost their summer business, Purple Nickel recently turned part of their loft-style second-floor space into a studio to photograph kids. Clients of their new division, Purple Nickel Kids, get to play and clown around in a big expanse of white: a white platform and two white backdrop walls. Eric made the kids' area with wood and MDF board. He glued the boards together, filled in the joints, and painted it with epoxy garage paint.

Casia admits that when they do in-studio shoots with kids, the children are taken aback when they're told they can run around, jump, get silly. "They look at us like 'Really? You don't want me to sit still?'" says Casia.

Photo by Purple Nickel.

If props are used in the studio, they're in keeping with Casia and Eric's mid century, thrifty aesthetic. It's likely to be a mid-mod-style steel chair, with perhaps a sock monkey or two.

Most portrait photographers use their studio to show off their wares, with framed photographs, catalogs, coupons and some standard props: giant numbers to signify a child's birthday; baseball gear for the boys of the family; wrapped fake presents at Christmas. Casia and Eric's second floor space is sparse, urban and risky - just like so many of their photos.

Eric, a former architectural designer who turned to photography full-time to help Casia run her business, fixed up the interior himself. They have kept two exterior red brick walls, and created some more walls with shipping crates (plus a friend's garden gate) they found abandoned in an alley. A seating area features two mid-mod sofas picked up through Craigslist, a vintage table, and a smattering of other pieces bought through Craigslist and thrifting. A powder-coated white desk and set of white wall cabinets are from IKEA.

Inside Purple Nickel Studio, with the kids' platform and shipping crate walls. Photo by Purple Nickel.

With both the platform and the shipping crate walls, Eric made sure they were floating, and barely attached to the original floor. "Everything was built with respect for the old building," he says.

Eric, always a keen photographer, says he has made the transition from architectural designer to professional portrait photographer well. "I still love architecture and I still read about it. I follow people and I do drawings. I get my creative outlet that way." As well as taking photographs, Eric is in charge of their design, website and blog.

Photo by Purple Nickel.

Casia got hooked on photography at Tucson High School (she still sings the praises of the school's darkroom facilities). One teacher in particular stood out for her - a man named Jerry Halfmann. When the seniors graduated from the photography program, Mr. Hafmann would create a nickel-sized coin for each of them, using the silver from developing chemicals in the darkroom. "It had a little purple hue to it," says Casia. Hence the name Purple Nickel.

While studying photography at the U of A, Casia worked part-time for The Picture People,  a chain of portrait photography studios. "It was stiff and rigid. You only had five poses. I knew if I had my own company it would be the complete opposite."

Frustrated as she was, Casia found she was great with the kids - to the point where parents would request her for sessions. Even within The Picture People's tight framework, Casia pushed the envelope. Some simple tweaking of angles and poses resulted in pictures that were out of the ordinary. Casia even persuaded her bosses to let her do an extra, sixth, pose. "With that one I got to do what I wanted."

With Purple Nickel's kids' portraits, there is a 15- to 20-minute get-to-know-you session at the beginning, then another 45 minutes or more of shooting. Casia acts as a stylist too, asking the parents to bring one or two outfits and advising them on what might be a good look.

Willy & Gaby. Photo by Purple Nickel.

They both use Canon 5D Mark II cameras and a software program called Adobe Lightroom Presets, to make adjustments with shadows, contrast and color. Although they are full of praise for digital photography, they believe every professional photographer should learn to use film, and develop it in a dark room. "Then you understand the foundations. It's like an architect should learn how to hand-draft and sketch," says Casia.

Purple Nickel's photos don't come cheap; they reckon the average spend for a family is $2000. Kids' portraits start at around $300. But they make no excuses for being possibly the most expensive portrait studio in Tucson.

Photo by Purple Nickel.

Included in the fee is custom installation of the artwork, something Casia and Eric feel strongly about. "Sometimes it was six months or a year later and [the clients] still hadn't hung them. Plus, I'm a control freak," says Eric. "I wanted them to be hung correctly."

These aren't just photographs, says Eric. "This is art for your walls."

* Find Purple Nickel Studio at 439 N. 6th Avenue. Tel: 520 477 8128.