PAT McDONALD, a Steel and Concrete Man 
Noel and I had long wanted a large metal sculpture in the front garden of our small property in Oak Park, Illinois. We had the perfect spot in the middle of a rectangular bed of liriope spicata or lilyturf that measured roughly 6' x 3.5'. I had been shopping around for a sculptor for a couple of years, considering and then rejecting artists who had
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The Pat McDonald piece in Victoria's front yard north of us
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participated in Oak Park's annual
Sculpture Walk. I had seen some very interesting small metal pieces in front of a neighbor's house a few blocks away. From time to time during my daily walks I'd notice some hubbub in the vicinity of that house involving a truck with a hoist and large pieces of metal being moved. I really had no idea who lived there, but it looked like an artist. I also had spotted a really wonderful steel sculpture in the front garden of a large rambling house up the street from us. Then I saw a fabulous painted steel piece outside of Trader Joe's that has the same look as my neighbor's small pieces. Unfortunately, the Trader Joe sculpture has no plaque indicating who the artist is. I figured I'd have to leave a note on my unknown artist neighbor's door to make the connection.
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The piece outside Trader Joe's
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I casually mentioned my search to a friend who knew immediately who I was talking about. "That's Pat McDonald," replied my friend Dave. "He did that concrete wall I had around the back yard of my house on Lyman."
Even after Dave gave me Pat's phone number, I procrastinated a month or two before calling him. I finally made the call and left a message in the middle of May. I got a call back almost immediately from a man with the loudest voice I'd heard in a long time. In fact, I can only remember hearing a voice like that once before when I was really young and my mother introduced me to her Uncle Mack. He scared me but Pat McDonald didn't. Pat strongly suggested I come right over and he would show me a piece he was putting together for the
2015 Chicago Sculpture Exhibit called "DaVinci's Wing." How could I refuse a commanding voice like that?
Over I went. There in front of his house, fortunately located in a cul-de-sac, was a truck with a hoist loaded up with huge painted black and white steel feathers. Leonardo DaVinci was fascinated with the idea of flight and did a whole series of detailed drawings of possible wings that people could use to fly like birds or bats. Pat was recreating one of those drawings in steel and concrete. Not particularly conducive to flight, but as I quickly learned, Pat was a steel and concrete man.
I have to confess I wasn't too enamored with the feathers that day, but I was
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Our sculpture almost done
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impressed with Pat McDonald. His personality matched his voice. I told him what I was looking for and he commanded that I immediately visit Victoria who lived in the big rambling house north of us and had the piece I liked in her front yard to see another piece he had made for her garden in the back. I equivocated and left feeling a little overwhelmed. A few days later I asked him to call Victoria to see if I could stop by. "Just go. It'll be fine," he assured me. I don't just wander into folks' backyards without an invitation, so Pat made the call. I didn't particularly like the piece in the back garden, too much going on, but I loved the piece out front. It is nothing like "DaVinci's Wing." It is a lovely abstract construction of rings precariously in orbit around a steel monolith with a natural rust finish.
A day or so later Pat came by my house to look at the site and chat, and chat, and chat. Pat liked to talk. He made a rough sketch and we agreed on a very reasonable price and chatted some more. Then he said he had to be off to do something with his son and wrestling. I assumed the project would take most of the summer, so I asked him if he thought he'd have something by Labor Day. "I'll show you something in a couple of weeks." By "something" I thought he meant a maquette, a model of the piece. He said he was pretty tied up with the finishing and installation of "DaVinci's Wing," so he couldn't start right away. That was okay with me. I'd procrastinated on this project for a few years.
Pat was not a procrastinator. Ten days later he called me to come over right away. He was almost finished with the piece. It was a foot taller than he had originally intended, roughly 4.5', and he would have to charge me a bit more. If I didn't like it, he would change it until I did like it. No more sketches, no maquette. He started right in on the metal. Noel and I walked over as directed.
Pat and his family live in a house almost identical to ours and like a hundred others or more in Oak Park - a small four-square all built around 1920. Pat was first and foremost an artist but his day job was as a contractor. Pat had taken down most of the interior first floor walls of his house and shored everything up with steel cross beams. He was proudly showing off his construction prowess while I kept asking if we could look at the sculpture. Finally, he led us into his workshop/garage. And there it was. Perfect. The only thing left to do was to spray it with some stuff that turns the raw metal almost instantly rusty. I was breathless. He could install it tomorrow if I wanted. It just seemed too fast so for some reason I said Tuesday morning. No problem. He'd be there at 9 o'clock.
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Installed, the sculpture makes the garden
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Tuesday morning at 9 o'clock sharp he pulled up in front of our house in his truck with a hoist accompanied by Al, his assistant and a photographer by avocation. Pat carefully hoisted the sculpture onto a wooden dolly and he and Al rolled the piece into place among the liriope. They spent fifteen minutes or so adjusting it so it stood straight and they were done. Slam, bang, thank you, ma'am. Astounding.
I took the appropriate shots with my smart phone and Pat and I retired to my kitchen to settle up and, of course, chat. He told me more about "DaVinci's Wing" and how he was combining painting with concrete and metal and going back to doing more representational work. I looked at pictures of it now installed off Lake Shore Drive. It occurred to me that in its new context it resembled the headdress of a Plains Indian warrior. I liked it better.
After Pat left, I walked around my new piece, appreciatively taking in the different forms it assumed from every angle. I especially liked the way I could make the top part move when I pushed on it while the base stayed rock solid. When I posted a photo of it on Facebook, I was asked what it represented. I gave the stock response - "a three-dimensional object in space." It doesn't have to represent anything. I just love the shape of it and the way it makes the garden. It does have a wing-like quality to it, however. But no feathers.
A few weeks later we were having dinner with our friends Dave and Priscilla when Dave said to me, "I heard Pat McDonald broke both his legs and is in the hospital." Wow! That was all Dave knew. A day or so later I sent Pat a text wishing him a speedy recovery, but he never replied. Odd . . .
The following Wednesday I picked up a local newspaper and there was Pat
McDonald's obituary. At his memorial service the next day Pat's assistant Al told me and Dave that he and Pat were on a 12' scaffolding for a construction project in Chicago. Pat started to weld something when the scaffolding pulled away from the wall and Al and Pat fell. Al emerged sore but unscathed. Pat's legs were seriously injured. In the hospital Pat's body didn't recover from the shock of his injuries and he died at age fifty.
I consider myself incredibly blessed to have one of Pat McDonald's last sculptures in my front yard. The other day I drove to Lake Shore Drive to see "DaVinci's Wing" and I noticed that the core of the wing construction is a layer of concrete at least three inches thick, shaped and painted like large feathers and anchoring the painted steel feathers. Awfully heavy wings for flight, but then Pat was a steel and concrete man.
All photos courtesy of Ridge Art
