art

Born in rural Tarlton in southern Ohio, Pine began studying glass-blowing decades ago in Seattle, Washington, and says he’s still perfecting the process to this day at his studio in Laurelville, where he’s a member of South Central Power Company. “I knew I was in love with glass-blowing from the start, as it involves everything I enjoy as an artist,” Pine says. “It’s a mystical medium, and I was drawn to it immediately. You take a glob of hot, molten glass from the furnace and turn it into a gorgeous work of art — that initial experience was magical to me and continues to be.” 

“I carve things in all shapes and sizes,” he says. “However, people are happiest when I do eagles.”

Kuenning, a member of St. Marys-based Midwest Electric, remembers watching a chainsaw artist — a Stihl factory representative — demonstrate how to make rustic chairs and larger-than-life mushrooms with well-placed swipes of the blade.

“I told my wife I could do better than that, and I went to work proving it,” he says. “There has been a lot of practice during the ensuing years — it’s something you have to learn on your own, because no one offers classes on the subject.”

During the Great Depression, two federal programs — the Public Works of Art Project (PWAP) and the Federal Art Project (FAP), which was a part of the Works Progress Administration (WPA) — put thousands of artists to work. Murals were painted across the U.S., including more than 60 in Ohio, with post offices reaping the bounty.

When I was a kid, my mother couldn’t keep me indoors. I was constantly roaming the woods and fields near our home, dragging back sick and injured wildlife — probably to the animal’s detriment. But the day Mom drew the line (“No more critters!”) was the day she saw me coming down the road with a live great blue heron under my arm. The 4-foot bird with the dagger-like beak was nearly as tall as I was.

Where others see modern-day cities, he sees ancient Indian villages. Where others see today’s crop fields, he sees vast virgin forests. In short, Robert Griffing sees Ohio as it was long before it ever became a state. He also sees — and paints — the Native American people who lived here more than 250 years ago.

Location: Downtown Tiffin, south of the Sandusky River.

When Scott Hagan remodeled his home, he and his wife, Amanda, picked reclaimed barn wood for the staircase and fireplace mantle. It was an obvious choice, given Hagan’s history.

Ken Duerksen envisages art amid decay. He rescues cast-off wood pieces from burn piles and salvage yards and transforms them into beautiful objects, including organic sculpture, tableware, furniture, chopsticks, and bento boxes.

Location: Downtown Xenia, about one block from the Greene County Courthouse.

Provenance: Brothers George and Andrew Dodds, both of whom were stonemasons and immigrants from Scotland, started making memorials in Yellow Springs in 1859. Five years later, they relocated to a building on West Main Street in the railroad hub of Xenia. It’s now one of the nation’s largest monument companies.

When Americans conjure a place called “Columbus,” many imagine Ohio — home of The Ohio State University and its legions of Buckeye football fans.

There is, however, another Columbus not too far away — west across the state line to just south of Indianapolis. While its population is only about 45,000, the town enjoys an outsized reputation as a modern architectural Mecca.