Wings on the wind: Metal creations in the South Valley

Apr. 8—Vince Mora doesn't put price tags on his art work. He would consider selling some, but others have sentimental value. Other pieces are just part of his home and surroundings — bar chairs, mirrors, bed frames. But his labor and his carefully crafted pieces are compelling enough to get plenty of offers.

Mora's creations are both works of art and useful objects — unique mailboxes, inventive bells, creative wind chimes and colorful wind vanes/anemometers surround his home and workshop. But the crème de la crème of his creations are his model airplanes.

Outside his South Valley home and workshop, the planes are mounted on poles, as if they're on wings of wind. They spin and float in, turning this way and that. There's usually no shortage of wind to power them. Mounted high on sturdy poles, they glide and twist as propellers whirl. One moment they're facing north, another west. So goes the wind. So goes the planes.

These aren't ordinary objects. They, in fact, befit the story behind the artisan responsible for their creation. Smith, 62, is no trained artist or sculptor, but he's had a career as an Albuquerque fire lieutenant and retired about 20 years ago.

"I probably worked at pretty much every station," he said.

Now, after a little trial and error and a smidgen of artistic license, he's a master of the arts with used fire extinguishers, compressed air containers and propane tanks, which he introduces to a welding torch and a plan, of sorts, to make them into something other than themselves.

Water heater tanks become noble bells with deep tones, large bear traps become declawed mailboxes, auto wheel rims somehow turn into wind vanes, pinwheels and whirligigs. Truck rims come in handy for making bells.

He's not beating swords into plowshares, but rather plowshares into collectibles.

Mora used a mobile-home axle to make his first airplane, and yes, it wasn't easy.

"It took me a long time to balance the blade (made from the axle)," he said, but fast-forward a couple years and trial and error turned into refinement. "As I got better, things came out a bit nicer. I just piece things together as I see it. It's not done to scale, but it really comes out nice."

It started years ago with him changing out a water heater for a friend.

"She goes, 'Do you want this water heater?' It was an old beat-up water heater. ... I go 'No, I don't want it.' She says, 'You can't make something out of it?' And I thought about that. And I said, 'You know, I'm gonna make something,'" he said.

To begin the process, raw materials are salvaged from junk that people want to throw away, things that are ready to be discarded without a second look. Sometimes he may have to place an ad. That's the easy part. Cutting and shaping and welding, then finishing and painting, is harder. But the hardest thing is the plan.

"There's a lot of thinking involved," Mora said. "I don't make things to copy people, I make what I want."

And one of the things he wanted to make was model airplanes.

"That one right there," he said pointing upward to a purposeful looking plane model, "the B-25 bomber, that one is three water heaters welded together — and that one's scary in the wind."

It's also 15 years old and counting.

"The guns are fire extinguishers, the round part is a propane tank, and it's so long it catches the wind," Mora said.

There was another added detail that added authenticity to the World War II warplane replica.

"The cockpit is fashioned to give the illusion that it's glass. It probably weighs about 600 pounds," he said.

That weight is all about the heavy metal used to forge the plane.

"They all pivot in the wind," Mora said. "You want them a little heavier, so the winds don't push them around as much."

Another one of his favorites is a model of a Curtiss P-40 Warhawk, a single-seat fighter from the WWII era. It's also made of discarded steel cylinders.

For the paint he uses automotive paint.

"Automotive paint lasts a bit longer than regular paint," he said. "So the paint should last at least 10 years."

Several huge iron bells grace the surroundings along with smaller bells, all of which have varied tones and volumes, each one forged from a used, sturdy, industrial, cylindrical container and painted.

"There's a difference in the sound of steel — there's low carbon steel and the tempered steel, high-carbon steel has a better sound. It has a ring. Low carbon has a dull thud," he said.

A Japanese torii gate — replete with butterflies to symbolize the departed spirits of loved ones — hosts one of the larger bells, which are fashioned out of propane tanks and air compressor tanks. And bells, by the way, are one of his most popular items with visitors, Mora said, along with piggy banks of all types.

There are plans for more objects and plans to press the limits of creativity — what actually can be made from old tempered steel containers.

But there's no huge market forming here, off the beaten path. Southwest Albuquerque off Isleta, the location of Mora's workshop, isn't exactly a business or art hub, though it has everything in some form: restaurants, car washes, beauty salons and barbershops, grocery stores and dispensaries. It also has small farms, trailers on large plots and peace and quiet.

Still, some people have found their way to Smith's workshop and his creations.

Someone may drive by and stop, but the street is almost void of traffic. Military people love to see the planes.

"I have a lot of people in the windy season," Mora said. They stop and they ask, 'Can I look at your stuff?' "

Others have asked him to fashion custom objects such as a set of barbecue grill fire pokers and hooks, which turned out to be brawny, cut from some heavy metal, topped with deer antler holders, and completely ready to grill with authority.

But he gives "quick, little tours" to the curious, just for stopping by. He's also had tours from the nearby Guiterriez Hubbel House.

Not everything is huge and imposing. A rocket model and a very finely crafted model of the venerable, high-flying SR-71 Blackbird spy plane sit in his living room. This SR-71 is one of those sentimental favorites — but somewhere in this landscape of discovery, if you take the tour, there's bound to be something you just can't do without.

"Some things are sentimental," he said. "Some things aren't."

Right now he's working on a large windmill and will mount a sculpture of a flying eagle on top.

For Mora though, it's not a business. It may be the ultimate hobby, but possibilities exist. And he's not done creating.

His biggest fanMora's daughter, Vanessa Lujan, is a woodworking artist who said she's taken up the craft with "his guidance and teaching."

"I learned everything from my dad," she said.

She said she's made cutting boards, charcuterie boards, a wine rack and a liquor cabinet after starting about 10 years ago.

And she's got bigger plans.

"I'm currently working on a dining room table," she said.

Lujan has seen her dad's work draw admirers.

"There have been times where we're working at his house ... and people are just driving by looking at his airplanes, and they'll drive by and stop and my dad will explain to them what he does and how he makes them and ... he'll take everyone to the backyard and show his work off and explain how it's done and how it's made," she said.

Creativity can be enjoyable and even therapeutic, Lujan said, and she's seen that for her dad.

"It's more of an outlet (for him)," she said. "For him to be able to work and be creative with his work, that would be his form of meditation."

But the fun beginnings of it will never be forgotten.

"Growing up, he made all of our toys (for her and her sister), all of our swing sets, our monkey bars, our teeter-totter," she said. "He even made us a go-kart. So ever since we were little kids, he's done a lot and he's provided us a fun place to grow up in."