The saga of my pickaxe collection, now christened “Take Your Pick,” is a testament to the serendipitous nature of art. It began years ago, a chance find of a lone pickaxe head in a dusty barn near Hartsel, Colorado. With no clear purpose, it simply joined my growing trove of Southwestern road trip treasures. Pickaxes from antique shops in Payson/AZ, Globe/AZ, Miami/AZ, Las Vegas/NM, and Buena Vista/CO followed, each adding to the eclectic mix. Why? No idea. But I set them aside, and over the years, more followed. Whenever I stumbled across another, I added it to my growing, purposeless collection.
Eventually, the right idea emerged, these relics were destined for a pickaxe Christmas tree, built upon a base salvaged from an old sawmill. I liked it, but did not love it.
Later, I borrowed a few for a Bonefish sculpture based on Julie’s idea. Fast forward another couple of years, and on a road trip to Bisbee/AZ, I found even more pickaxes, signaling the start of yet another collection—this time, I waited for the right idea to find me. And one day, it did. The spark to the idea? The way that the roof of the DIA Airport rises out of the flat prairie.
So I started out modeling what it might look like, figuring out how to connect the pickaxe heads together so that they would not fall apart. I drilled holes in an old piece of timber and after several variations got it to work. Then to take it all apart and build a final base to display them on. The most difficult part? Remembering how i connected all the pieces.
Seeking a unique touch, I had one pickaxe head vibrantly powder-coated red, a bold contrast in the assemblage. “Red1” was a working title, but Julie’s suggestion, “Take Your Pick,” resonated instantly, with a playful nod to choice and discovery. She even offered “Rouge Against the Machine” for a more “sophisticated” title, but we’ll stick with the simple charm of “Take Your Pick.” This piece, a collection of 21 pickaxes, assembled without a single weld, is a story of patient accumulation and the unexpected journey of found objects, now proudly displayed at the ranch—a reminder that sometimes, art finds you.
