THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Thursday, December 28, 1995 TAG: 9512280849
SECTION: DAILY BREAK PAGE: E1 EDITION: FINAL
SOURCE: BY TERESA ANNAS, STAFF WRITER
LENGTH: Long : 125 lines
INSIDE MIKE BELL'S three-car garage, the happy hum of a chain saw could be heard. The Virginia Beach artist was starting on Sculpture No. 25.
It was the Friday before Christmas, and Bell had mostly finished two dozen of the 36 or so pieces he was commissioned to make for First Night Norfolk, the arts-centered, no-alcohol New Year's Eve festival.
Ten days 'til deadline, he stood in his makeshift studio and confronted a 5-foot-tall block of Styrofoam, dramatically lit by a clip-on spotlight.
His method was to make quick drawings with chalk on the sides, and carve in with the saw. Then he'd redraw the lines, and carve some more. He might've been Auguste Rodin chipping away at a chunk of white marble, except the French sculptor could never work this fast.
White dots flew everywhere. More than Rodin, Bell resembled the title character in ``Edward Scissorhands.'' At film's end, Scissorhands is sculpting from ice, making snow fly from his window and blanket the neighborhood.
Bell was getting coated. Styrofoam bits were in his short, sandy blond hair. They were all over his paint-splattered jeans and worn Topsiders. When his Dalmatian entered the magical space, the bits actually leapt off the floor onto the electrified field of the dog's body.
No one cared.
``Fun and freedom. Just fun . . . and . . . freedom,'' stressed Bell, describing his art style.
In the time others might spend gathering materials, Bell, who is 45 but looks 35, can whip up an amusing and decorative form out of such everyday stuff as cardboard, paint and glitter. Typically, he and his wife, Janet, quickly brainstorm an idea, then go for it.
``You can sit and think about it a month, and never do the piece,'' he said. ``It's more fun to keep creating as you go. Keep yourself open. Don't get stuck on an idea.''
Bell lives the way he makes his art. Until the late 1980s, he and Janet were successful builders of pricey homes in Virginia Beach. When the market fell, they made a smooth transition into the art business.
Utilizing Mike's lifelong artmaking savvy and Janet's conceptual and design strengths, the two have become popular hires for parties and balls of every stripe. Their party props can make Mardi Gras seem bland.
The Bells also have designed more permanent sculptural environments for area restaurants such as Hot Tuna, Cafe Iguana and Bella Monte, and for chic shops like The Cage.
``It's all one. Everything's one item,'' Bell said. He feels the same creativity that lets him liven up someone's living room allows him to create the fine art he exhibits in galleries.
``If you `get' art and you know what art is, you have the freedom of art,'' he said. ``The freedom is everything. To go in and not be afraid of any type of material. It's got to do with clothes and everything in your life. It's flower arranging and Christmas trees and painting and sculpture.''
The couple is in such demand because they are inventive under fire, and with modest materials.
For the First Night project, the Bells are being creative for fire. The commission divides up like this: They were asked to make 12 ``regret'' sculptures, 12 ``resolutions'' sculptures, a dozen sculptures-on-a-stick for the Mayor's Walk parade and a few other pieces.
``Regrets trees'' have become a staple of First Night parties across the nation, Janet said. The idea is to write your regrets for the year just ending on a piece of paper, then attach it to the ``tree.''
``Well, we had to be different,'' she said. ``We said we'd much rather interpret them.''
So the couple came up with a dozen regrets, then brought them to life.
The works will be on display for most of the day throughout the festival area. At 10 p.m., the sculptures, and everyone's regrets, will be brought to the d'Art Center, and set ablaze.
``It's incredible therapy,'' Mike said. ``Get it off your chest, write it down, put it in the box - and burn it.''
Didn't stick to that diet? Tuck your regret in a slot in Mike's big fat pig with a curlicue tail.
Didn't quit smoking? Look for the giant pack of Stinkers cigarettes with the regrets slot on top.
Lose your wallet - cards, keys and all? It'll be at First Night, much bigger than you remembered, and with a slit in its side for your personal regret.
``Well, I think it's rather exciting - the idea of making it and burning it,'' Mike said. ``I might see them in the time I am making them. Then they get stored away. If I see a piece for two days, that's it. And they're major pieces.''
He thought about that for a moment, then broke into a grin.
``But I can remember a better piece than the piece itself. The piece itself has died anyway.''
The process of making the work is his thrill. He's not attached so much to the outcome, or to permanence.
Still, ``I'll look at that fire and say, `Oh, my God! Look! All that work - and it's burning!' Well, I just hope a lot of people get to see it beforehand.''
Bell can comfort himself that at least two dozen works will not go up in flames.
The sculptures-on-a-stick will be held high by volunteers in the Mayor's Walk parade, which starts at 3 p.m. at Blair Middle School.
A week ago, however, the Bells' festive pole toppers were strewn around his garage studio like abandoned toys. There were outrageous masks, giant gloved hands and a huge lightning bug with a tail end that lit up.
Now, he was starting on the first of a dozen resolutions, each with slits to receive everyone's personal promises for 1996. Instead of creating objects to represent resolutions, Bell decided to make a marching band, starting with a tuba player. That should make people want to join the band, get with the program.
Which is ironic, since Bell is more likely to march to his own rhythm on his own drum, wandering off into a pile of junk suitable for sculpture.
Meanwhile, he has a regret and a resolution of his own.
``This year, I resolve to take some time off,'' Bell said. ``The way I turn out so much stuff, our day may start at 8 o'clock and it might end at 1 a.m. That's a regular day. We're even working Christmas Day.''
But his regret just might cancel out that wish.
``I regret that I can't do more. I wish I could do more.'' ILLUSTRATION: Color photo by Vicki Cronis, The Virginian-Pilot
Janet and Mike Bell show two sculptures that represent regrets of
the past year - a dog (for anger), left, and spoken and unspoken
words.
Mike bell works in his studio on a piece for the Mardi Gras-like
parade planned as part of Norrfolk's New Year's Eve celebration.
KEYWORDS: NEW YEAR'S EVE FIRST NIGHT NORFOLK by CNB