“Metal is an incredible substance,” said Matthew Weinberger, sitting in his studio, a vast garage furnished with two forges, a milling machine, an air compressor, anvils, vises, and many other tools.
“Metal is strong, but heat turns it to butter, and you can put it together quickly,” he said. “It’s archival — it lasts a long time. It’s structural but also beautiful.”
Weinberger considers himself a blacksmith, “a person who makes and repairs things in iron by hand.” Most people associate the term with shoeing horses, which he doesn’t do.
He also sometimes works with non-ferrous metals. He prefers to be called a metalsmith, “a craftsperson or artist fashioning items out of various metals.”
The objects he designs and fashions are both functional and fanciful, from railings to furniture to the gracefully tentacled octopus, still in process, that sits outside his studio. Many of his creations can be seen around Woodstock, including the fence in front of Yum Yum, sculptures at the Station Bar, and many of the appointments at the Colony.
Things that people need
Having trained at the Philadelphia University of the Arts, where he enjoyed silver and goldsmithing, Weinberger is a fine artist at heart. But it’s been a boon for him to have a craft that enables him to support himself and his family. “And I like coming up with things that people need.”
Early on, he made quirky candlesticks out of iron, filled the trunk of his car with them, and sold them on West Broadway in Manhattan’s SoHo.
In his recent work at the Colony, he started by making a screen for the night club’s big stone fireplace.
His next project involved the railings on the balcony that runs around the second story and overlooks the stage, tempting customers to lean over. Installed in the 1920s, the railings were “nervously low.” He built an extension of metalwork over the wooden banisters to protect people from falling.
“The Colony is a beautiful piece of history,” said Weinberger. “I didn’t just make adornments.” He had to make sure each item he designed would match the existing style.
When the pandemic came, the venue needed an outdoor stage. It procured a commercial tow-behind trailer, which he altered for performance use, fabricating struts to hold it to the ground and to anchor tents, tarps, and sound systems. The stage is still in use.
Weinberger especially enjoys making furniture. A chair, he pointed out, is inanimate until someone sits in it, creating an interaction between human and object. “Some furniture fits well to the body, and some doesn’t. It can be built for long-term relaxation. In public places, they make benches that are purposely uncomfortable,” he said. Such benches discourage people from staying too long.
Weinberger considers it vital to make each object pleasing and of high quality: “That way it doesn’t get thrown out.”
How it’s done
Another advantage to working in metal is the ability to upcycle scraps discarded from building sites. Weinberger picked up a palm-sized piece of steel shaped like a quarter of a pie. Putting on a visored helmet, he turned on the welder and approached a half-completed sculpture, an assemblage of rods, strips and cutouts. Wire emerged from the end of the welding tool, along with a blue flame. As sparks flew, he melted the wire onto the edge of the metal pie piece, attaching it to the sculpture in seconds.
Forges are similarly efficient. Instead of the traditional blacksmith’s huge wood-burning hearth, Weinberger has a gas-powered forge and a coal-powered forge.
He placed a sheet of metal into a device called a Beverly shear, a giant, heavy-duty paper cutter, and lowered the blade to slice off a strip, commenting, “This is my quietest tool.” As the fire inside the gas forge emitted a steady roar, he inserted the newly cut strip through a slot that extended into the glass-fronted chamber.
“When metal is heated up, I can elongate it or shorten it,” he said. “I can curl it around like plastic.”
A few minutes later, he used forging tongs to withdraw the red-glowing strip and clamped one end into a vise. With a few turns of the pliers, he twisted the end of the strip into an elegant spiral.
When the vibe is right
The vast majority of his pieces are not to be found in the studio, since they reside with customers. Weinberger paged through an album of photographs of his past work, such as a giant metal skull he once created for a motorcycle club.
When he goes to New York City, he likes to see the sign he made for the Mudd Club in the Nineties, still hanging on the building.
One of his clients wanted to plant a tree in a rusted-out Volkswagen bus. Weinberger modified the bus to make it child-safe and fabricated a sign. The bus and tree stand in a Woodstock sculpture park.
Now that his work for the Colony is completed, he hopes to spend more time on his own artistic creations, both sculptural and two-dimensional. At the far end of the studio, a wall is hung with riotous abstract paintings reminiscent of graffiti. “My paintings are all about color,” said Weinberger.
He confirmed the graffiti influence. When he was growing up on Long Island, his father was a New York City fireman who sometimes took him into Brownsville, Brooklyn, where the liveliness of the abundant graffiti made an impact on the boy.
He admitted that his sculpture works best “when the vibe is right.” Weinberger still has time to craft functional creations for homes and businesses. He can be reached at 518-248-1342 or MatthewWWeinberger@gmail.com.
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