The workmen erecting Anchorage's latest piece of public art had just set in place a 30-foot steel pole when the 6.24-magnitude earthquake hit at 9:51 a.m. Thursday.
Nuts holding the support pole to its base had been hand-threaded into place but not yet tightened. Cables on the crane that had raised it only minutes before swung back and forth. Skeins of honking geese took to the air as mirror-flat Westchester Lagoon abruptly rippled with waves.
Sculptor Rebecca Lyon nervously watched the swaying pole critical to the outcome of the biggest art piece of her career, "Transformation," a vision that required years of planning, collaboration and a labyrinth of paperwork and approval from sponsors, public agencies and the municipality.
The small crowd watching the installation caught its breath, but the pole was still in position, ready to hold Lyon's sculpture of four giant ravens designed to spin in the wind.
"There aren't many kinetic sculptures in Alaska," Lyon said. "This is heavily engineered and it wouldn't have happened if so many people and companies hadn't helped and donated to it."
The primary sponsor of "Transformation" is Alaskans for Litter Prevention and Recycling, which supplied funds with a matching grant from the Anchorage Park Foundation. ALPAR has long been responsible for the little triangle of land at the intersection of the Chester Creek and Tony Knowles Coastal trails, said Mary Fisher, the group's president. A plaque honoring ALPAR's founding chairman, Thomas Cox, has been at the site for several years.
Lyon, a Native Alaskan who makes contemporary art from repurposed material, has created the awards given out at ALPAR's annual banquet for several years. She also has a direct connection to the site, having grown up in Bootlegger Cove and ridden her horse in the wetlands known as Westchester Flats before the lagoon was artificially created in the 1970s.
"In Native legends, Raven has the ability to transform himself into different animals or things," she said. "It seemed to tie in with the idea of transforming trash into something useful, the circle of life. And I'm crazy about ravens."
Almost everything in the sculpture and at the site includes some sort of material enjoying its second life. The planters around it were made from concrete left over from construction sites. The retaining wall is from a shipping container. The names of the many donors will be posted on the rusted camshaft of a large ship. The pole and the 30-foot-deep pilings that support it were surplus equipment from the North Slope. Even the high-quality steel of the birds and the pole contains reused metal.
"Most stainless steel is 50 to 70 percent recycled," Lyon said. "Stainless is like the poster child for recycling."
She'd originally planned to use aluminum for the project but was redirected to steel when she approached Jeffrey Hoffman, the director of the prototyping lab at the University of Alaska Anchorage Engineering Department.
"Rebecca came to us with this concept on paper," said Hoffman. "But to make something that moves when the wind blows, we had to go from the ground up."
Hoffman recruited a team of students who took on the sculpture as their senior project. They made up a practical plan that would pass engineering codes and worked up designs on computers, "virtually building" the piece, tweaking as they progressed. Josh Tempel had responsibility for the pole and foundation. Victor Sargent worked on predictions about how it would perform in the wind. Taryn Byrd tackled ways to make the bird designs efficient and functional. Josh Lazaro and Mariusz Sawicki concentrated on the all-important bearing design.
"The bearings were critical," said Hoffman. "They're what make it possible for the thing to move."
The self-aligning bearings were built by Corbin Rowe, the machinist at the prototype lab. He also fabricated the cap out of a solid block of 316L stainless, material used underwater, to make test equipment and in places where severe corrosion is an issue. "It's very expensive," Rowe said, but was deemed essential for the location near salt water. It's also the material that the ravens are made of and that clads the main pole.
Rowe also pointed out the lubrication mechanism. A zerk, or grease fitting, at the bottom of the pole is connected to the bearing at the top by a hose so grease can be applied from the ground. "I figured if someone had to climb to the top, it would never get greased," he said.
In addition to making heavy use of recycled material, Lyon had to meet a rash of demands.
"It had to be low-maintenance," she said. "It couldn't create a hazard and had to be off the trail. It couldn't be easily vandalized."
And it had to meet with the approval of ALPAR, the community council, the municipality's building approval people, the Anchorage Parks and Recreation Department and the city's 1 Percent for Art commission. (While not funded under the 1 Percent for Art program, it was "adopted" to come under the umbrella of certain legal protections.)
In the process there were changes, Lyon said. The total radius of the spinning birds was reduced and the shape of the arms holding them was changed. The birds' bodies were adjusted so they would more easily catch the downslope wind in the summer.
If the UAA students are correct, the structure will turn in a breeze of as little as 2 mph. And, with a little grease, it should last for about 900 years.
"Even if the sea level rises, my ravens are 30 feet in the air," Lyon said.
Getting the mechanism with the birds to the top of the pole required another hoist. The crane slowly lifted it into the air while welder Mike Auleta rose side by side in a "cherry picker" platform.
The butterflies in Lyon's stomach fluttered all the faster as the top inched into place. "I woke up at 4 a.m. and couldn't get back to sleep," she said.
Then a solitary raven flew toward the lagoon over the railroad tracks. It gave a caw then did a barrel roll, folding its wings and diving in a spin on one side of the pole. It recovered, spread its wings, glided over the top and then executed the barrel roll a second time. Observers thought it looked like something of an aerial salute.
Lyon was ecstatic. "When Athabaskan hunters see a raven, they ask it to drop some of its luck on them. Raven just dropped some luck on my art."
It took another hour or more of positioning, welding and grinding before the top section was secured and the strap suspending it from the crane was disconnected. In the cherry picker's basket, Auleta took off his welding mask and gave the piece a soft push.
Those on the ground applauded. The big ravens, measuring 5 feet from wing tip to wing tip, spun for more than a minute. Sunlight reflecting off the lagoon illuminated the bottom of the birds and brought out feathery forms in the metal bodies.
Fisher gasped. "It's beautiful!" she exclaimed. "I love it!"
Aside from the aesthetics, the price of the piece offered something to admire. Fisher said the entire project cost $40,000, about half of that going for the sculpture itself, the rest involving the landscaping and grounds. The construction and installation would have cost a lot more but for the donations of time, material and equipment from several companies and volunteers. The contributions of the UAA students, for instance, would have cost tens of thousands of dollars if she'd had to hire an engineering firm to do the work, Lyon said.
The sculpture is only part of the plan. ALPAR plans to add a bear-proof recycling bin at the site later this year. "It'll be the first recycling bin in any of the city parks," Fisher said.
Lyon seemed pleased and relieved. But not entirely satisfied. It looked great in the sun, but winter's dark is rapidly coming on.
"I wish there was a way to put lights on it," she said.
TRANSFORMATION will be dedicated with a public celebration 5-7 p.m. Friday, Oct. 3, at the northwest corner of Westchester Lagoon.
Reach Mike Dunham at mdunham@adn.com or 257-4332.