Nathan read aloud about how bronze sculpting dated back to ancient civilizations. And how the “lost-wax” casting and section molding techniques were used to make larger sculptures. He wondered if he sounded like a reference library, but it felt so good to have someone at his side who he could share his passion with. Carli stood close, listening. They still held hands and she didn’t pull away.
“I want to learn everything about this,” he told Carli as he looked at the bronze carefully, taking note of every contour, wrinkle, and detail.
A slight, tanned-faced man with a handlebar mustache was suddenly behind them and quietly asked, “Are you an artist?”
Without turning around Nathan answered, “I try to be.”
“That’s one of my pieces you’re looking at.”
Nathan gasped and turned. The man’s face was wrinkled and weathered, obviously from time spent outdoors, and probably in the saddle from the looks of him. No one could put that much detail in bronze to depict an animal’s power unless he’d been involved personally. Crow’s feet and wrinkled neck and hands were evidence of his years. A starched white, Western-styled shirt with pearlized snap-buttons finished off his gentleman’s attire, complete with leather bolo tie fastened by a hunk of turquoise stone and silver clasp. Caiman-belly, handmade Lucchese boots were shined like mahogany.
The man smiled at Nathan. “'I try to be' is not the right answer to my question, Son. You either are or you ain’t. What’s it gonna be?”
Nathan found his tongue tied. He stood there. No one had asked him that question before. Unsure, Nathan couldn’t answer so the man spoke again. “I apologize. Don’t mean to be nosy. Just wanted to know if you were one of us.”
“One of you?” Nathan was a bit perplexed.
“Artists. Are you one of us?”
Nathan chuckled. “I guess I am, sir. I work with metal and other things, but I have a lot to learn. How did you know?”
“I thought as much by the way you were studying that sculpture. Only artists can look at something so intently.” The stranger tipped his cowboy hat and said in a real friendly tone, “Ma’am. I’m Brad Travers, artist. I’m gonna be doing a little demo about working with bronze here in a bit, if y'all would like to stay.”
Carli and Nathan both shook the hand extended to them. Nathan couldn’t hide his surprise. “I’m Nathan and this is Carli. It’s great to meet you. You’re Brad Travers? I really admire your work.”
“That’s me. In the flesh. And thank you kindly, young man, for your high praise.”
Mr. Travers commenced to pin a microphone on his lapel, with the help of a museum employee. Carli and Nathan sat on the first row of a semi-circle of chairs.
“Ladies and gentlemen, please gather ’round, get yorselves comfortable. There are some benches at the edge of the chairs if you need to sit. Thanks for coming out today. I won’t actually be able to pour bronze here. After all, this ain’t a foundry, right?” His mustache spread as he smiled at the people.
The museum worker stepped forward. “I need to introduce you first,” she whispered. The small group of art patrons chuckled. Brad removed his hat and took a bow.
“Brad Travers is a world-renown sculptor," the lady started. "He has won many prestigious designations including the American Art Awards, the National Academy of Western Art awards in Oklahoma City, and is an honorary member of The Royal Society of Sculptors in the U.K., just to name a few. His monumental sculptures are displayed in many art museums, colleges, and other public buildings around the country. He lives right here in our area with his wife and family. Please help me welcome master artist, Mr. Brad Travers.”
“First, to start things off proper like, I am Brad Travers and I am an artist.” He looked directly at Nathan who froze. He’d never said those words aloud in his life and Nathan wondered if he’d ever consider himself worthy enough to introduce himself that way.
“I’ve been an artist for some fifty years. Although I must admit, for many of those years I was a starving artist. And had to take some other jobs like ranch hand, high school art teacher, even janitor. I’ve spent lots of time in the saddle pushing cows because ya gotta do whatcha gotta do to pay the bills, especially if you have a wife and kids to feed.” As Travers talked more, people wandered closer, filling the seats. He paused to let a handful sit down.
The artist continued, “I’ve been doing art things my whole life. Sometimes painting, sometimes mixed media, woodwork, metal art, and finally bronze sculptures. It’s my passion, almost my reason for being on this earth. Although I must give credit where credit is due. If I wasn’t able to do art, for whatever reason, I’m certain the Good Lord would have given me some other wonderful job to do. He always has the best plan, and He wants us to have the desires of our hearts. But for me, I couldn’t deny the tug to create. I’d like to show y’all a video about the process and I’ll be happy to answer any questions you might have.”
Nathan had to keep a check on his tongue while the video played. A million and one questions came to mind. At the end, several people politely raised their hands. Nathan’s gut burned with impatience. He knew this was his calling. But how do you create something so complicated? Where could he even begin?
As the video rolled, Travers narrated through all the steps: sculpting in clay, making a mold, pouring the wax, the “lost wax” casting method which dates back to early Egyptian dynasties, he explained, pouring the bronze, patina. Nathan couldn’t take his eyes away from the video. He watched with total concentration.
“It was good meeting you both.” Travers walked over to Nathan and
