Stick welding in Iraq? New art venture? Step outside your comfort zone

Replica of "The Fist," created by Josh Welton.

Whether in art, trade, or life, the mere thought of potential challenges can become debilitating. There’s a fear of failure, or an anxious forward look at hardships to come, or an infatuation with the safe place I’m in that often blocks personal progress. You would think that a (nearly) 40-year-old man would now recognize the signs and be prepared to knock down those walls, but there are still times when my energy—mind and body—strives to stay content instead.

I’ve been working on a scale model of “The Fist,” a Robert Graham sculpture memorializing Joe Louis that resides in Downtown Detroit. It’s a commissioned piece and very much unlike most projects I’ve tackled thus far. Not only is it a replica, but it’s of the human form. Replicas aren’t my thing; I know other artists who do that type of work, and I’m more than happy to stick with my slightly more abstract style. And the human body is difficult to build, to get the proportions and angles just right from every view. But for whatever reason, this particular venture attracted me. The idea of doing something different always is enticing at first.

Then reality sets in. Fabricating the arm and fist would be arduous on its own; sculpting it to look just like one of the most iconic pieces in the world adds another layer. Typically, I can dive into a project head-first and weld, grind, cut, and hammer steadily until completion. This, however, would require more thought and time. Plus, we’d been putting in long hours at the prototype shop; I’d been playing catch-up with my writing; and it was the holidays, which made it difficult to spend as much time in my shop as I’d like. All of these factors led to frustration.

The piece is for my friend JD, who owns Detroit Shirt. When he asked me if I’d been getting along with it, I replied, “It’s proving to be more challenging than I anticipated.”

He then asked if maybe it was “just not something in my wheelhouse.” No, it most definitely is not in my wheelhouse, but that isn’t going to stop me.

One night I brought the work-in-progress home. With a fresh set of eyes, my wife Darla was able to see the sculpture for what it was, not for the mess my mind had distorted it into. It’s always nice to have someone who is willing to tell you “it’s ugly,” because if they like the art it means that much more. She found the positive in the piece and even thought that it might look fine just as it sits.

Your best work is often when you stretch yourself, when you step outside of your comfort zone.

That doesn’t mean that every time I swing beyond my wheelhouse it’s a home run. I’ve struck out plenty of times, and I’ve had successes playing it safe, too. But the times when I’ve connected on something uniquely “next level” are mostly when I face a hurdle that could not be cleared with business as usual. I can point to specific sculptures as defining my growth as an artist: “Flat Out,” the motorcycle and rider inspired by Mert Lawwell, and “CoExist,” the ballerina dancing with the robot.

The same is true with the trades and writing. One of the reasons I traveled to Baghdad last year was that I’d be stick welding, a process I’ve always enjoyed but hadn’t done much of in the last seven to eight years. Nothing like three months of 120-degree heat, some generators, and Abrams repair work to push your body, mind, and spirit. I wanted to challenge myself. I can look back at certain projects that I’ve been uneasy or nervous about, that I could have said no to or passed on, but that I tackled and learned from. The first videos I did with Miller. Driving a Viper ACR cross country and putting together the story.

I don’t remember the original Instagram source, but I remember the context: a follower was asking the poster why he was always sharing inspirational quotes, like he was preaching to his followers. The poster’s answer was basically “I don’t post these because I think I’m perfect, but the opposite; I do it to motivate myself to grow!” I like to think that the more I succeed, the more confidence I get, but it doesn’t always work that way. There are still opportunities I talk myself out of, or maybe situations where I played too close to the vest. I’m trying to push myself to take more chances, to tackle challenges that are outside of my lane.

Replica of "The Fist," created by Josh Welton.

So, that would be my hope: That you challenge yourself in a situation where you could fail. Start your own business, take an online class, or take the certified welder inspector tests. My friend Jeremy does stand-up comedy. He’s not good (he’s an incredible videographer/editor), but he doesn’t care; he keeps doing it. That’s a boldness that carries over into every part of your life.

All images courtesy of Josh Welton, Brown Dog Welding.

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