From Issue 15 of Plazm Magazine, 1997

What is deemed sacred in a throw away society? That which is kept from the dustbin? Or that which is found in it? As the saying goes, one mans' trash is another man's treasure. Rummaging through life with eyes downcast and salvaging society's "junk", the modern day alchemist, known commonly as the found object artist, takes these base materials and creates something precious, something sacred.

It was Jean Dubuffet who coined the term. Art Brut, meaning an art of pure vision created regardless of society's current fashionable leanings. Freed of this constraint the subconscious is allowed to rule the creation. The architect Antonio Gaudi worked intuitively on the 300 foot towers of his masterpiece, and the Church of the Sagrada Familia was possessed of this vision. Watts Towers, in Los Angeles, with its spiraling sculptures of steel, mortar and tile are the works of a single man, Simon Rodia, and a perfect example of such a vision. On Fulton Street in San Francisco, just aroung the corner from the second most photographed tourist site (Alamo Square's view of the seven painted ladies Victorian houses and the contrasting San Francisco skyline) Ron Henggeler is building a tower along the same vein, spurred on by his own creative vision, creating through a medium of found objects.

Standing insect-like in his front yard is a 21st century prayer tower. Its black spires dripping with texture and angles of light, reach forty feet high from its base which is fifteen feet above the sidewalk. It is an astonishing sight, stopping passersby dead in their tracks as what, at first glance, seems an odd contrast to familiar urban form, upon closer inspection, becomes a collage of urban refuse.

Most of the materials used in the tower's construction are scavenged off the street. Wooden objects predominate... splintered knick knacks, broken furniture, fake fruit, cheese platters, mops, axe handles, mannequins, and toys. Other objects include hubcaps, wheels, a tricycle, plaster praying hands, saw blades, squeegees, stripped lampshades and cement cherubs, all reaching toward heaven and held together with drywall screws and thick layers of black paint. Colored flags, bells of every octave, and shattered glass from bus shelters sprinkles top it all off.

Ron describes working on the tower as a meditation. "When I do it I lose myself in the work. I have no control over it after a certain point. The tower has a life of its own. It simply does itself. I'm just one of the tools that makes it happen." Power drill in hand, he works in a continuous flow, like a kid decorating a Christmas tree. His enthusiam is contagious and I soon find myself handing him screws and slopping paint.

Ron works in nines. There are nine outer posts surrounding the center, all lodged in concrete. The diameter of the outer posts is ninety-nine inches. Eventually the outer posts will connect at the center post to create a tepee-like structure forty feet high. The inspiration for the form goes back to 1972-74. During this time, Ron lived alone in a tepee in the Ozark Mountains in Arkansas. Being alone in nature instilled in him an awareness that grew into a life-art. The spirit of the tower has its roots in that experience.

Presently as this work in progress unfolds, a major theme appears. Ron says that Mozart's operatic masterpiece, The Magic Flute, is his guiding inspiration. "It's the story of someone seeking truth and finding the path. The various figures in the tower are to become the characters in the opera." He sprinkles bird seed onto the tower and explains further as the bird queue forms, "I have all of these broken wine glasses...the stems are broken at the base. I'm going to drill holes into the tower and put the glasses here and there for the birds to drink out of."

The bells on the tower increase their ringing as the wind picks up. The birds slowly descent to eat, their sharp bird cries answering the tones of the bells. Ron's game in weaving The Magic Flute into the fabric of the tower is suddenly apparent. The bells of the tower accompany Papageno's magic bells, Ron's birds become those that Tamino roused with his flute aria. The barrel hoops and wooden beads become a halo of stars crowning the Queen of the Night. The children's toys suggest the innocence and playfulness of the cherubs who become Tamino's protectors. The entire tower itself becomes Papageno's basket of birds turned upside down.

Gazing up through the gilded black interior of the tower, I am beginning to see the order within the chaos. I could just as well be standing in Gaudi's Church of the Sagrada Familia, a cathedral with masonry that bubbles and oozes from its steeples and clefts. Like Ron's tower, Gaudi never meant for his monument to be finished. "It's not what you see. It's not the end result. It will never be finished.That's not the point. It's the process of doing it." Ron looks at me to make sure I understand. I nod my head and listen as the tower resonate, springing to life, echoing Ron's clear voice.

- Tammy Fortin