Gwinnett artist colony is inspiration central

The Atlanta Journal-Constitution

Wednesday, August 20, 2008

Morning light seeped through whitewashed windows of Buford’s old tannery Tuesday as Dennis Primm bent over the leg of a bathtub stand. Sparks spewed through the air like fireworks from a water hose as he ground the steel to perfection.

Primm, a metal artist, was creating his own one-man assembly line for an order of five of these hand-made, swamp-themed tub bases. The sculptures, depicting cattails and reeds, are sold through MTI Whirlpools, a Gwinnett County company. Retail price: $9,700, soaker tub included.

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KIMBERLY SMITH/ksmith@ajc.com

Metal artist Dennis Primm grinds down the rough spots on a sculpted bathtub.

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A casino hotel in Tunica, Miss., recently bought 29 of them.

The tub stands are his most popular item, but Primm, 50, also makes unique gates and chandeliers, stair rails and bar stools, picture frames and lamps, and art for art’s sake.

He is part of T.R.A.C. — the Tannery Row Artist Colony on West Main Street. The community of about 20 painters, sculptors and other artisans share a red brick building that used to be part of a leather goods factory in this once-bucolic burg, about 22 miles northeast of downtown Atlanta.

Next door, glass artist Jeff Loose makes commissioned stained-glass works and restores and preserves historic windows. Down the hallway, through a tunnel of metal arches fashioned by Primm, past art-lined walls — painters labor in their studios.

Primm was one of the first two artists to settle in this building four years ago when it was under renovation.

A native of the Nashville area, he moved to Georgia in 1996 to set up a sales office for a metal fabrication firm. When he and his wife, Cheryl, didn’t like the art they could afford and couldn’t afford the art they liked, Primm decided to make his own.

He drew on his high school welding lessons and his background in metal fabrication to make figurative sculptures of eagles and fish.

His wife liked his work and thought other people might be willing to pay for it. He set up a part-time studio in downtown Buford and two years later was making enough money to leave his day job.

On Tuesday, his iPod blasted the music of the Black Keys, Robert Randolph and Dave Matthews. An old rabbit-eared television stood dark. Primm bought it from another artist after he was caught without a TV on Sept. 11, 2001.

Listening to the music, he bent steel rods a half-inch in diameter, tightening his arm muscles for just the right pressure, nine times per rod to get the spiral needed for the tub design.

Often he combines wood and metal in the same piece, such as the bed he made for his son, Austin, his only child. It now stands mattress-less. At 18, his son sleeps in another bigger, more contemporary bed his father made.

Nearby is a special sculpture Primm made for his wife. It’s a life-sized representation of her beloved gelding quarter horse, Bar Walter, who died in 1999. He measured 16 hands — that’s 5 feet, 4 inches from the ground to the bottom of his neck. The metal Walter is wearing the real Walter’s shoes.

While the horse is astonishing, of course, it’s not Primm’s favorite.

That one dominates the entry to his studio.

The one you like best, he said, “is always your last piece.”

“The Beginning” thrusts chopped steel beams 12 feet into the air like the trunk and branches of a bare tree. A metal hula-hoop-like circle supports various sizes of spheres.

The trunk and branches are the earth exploding into existence, Primm said. The largest sphere is the sun. The others are Mercury, Venus, Mars, Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus and Neptune.

There is no Pluto. As Primm began the work, astronomers were de-certifying Pluto as a planet.

“The Beginning” is not for sale, Primm said, because he’s not sure it’s finished.

“It developed,” he said.

And it still may be evolving.


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