A peek inside Akron artist Don Drumm's 'happy place,' where his art comes to life

A steady dose of NPR on WKSU.

A can of Coke Zero.

Boxes and boxes of JB Weld quick-setting, steel-reinforced epoxy.

These are the ingredients that fuel the creative mind of prolific Akron artist Don Drumm.

On most days that end in "Y," Drumm can be found in his workshop inside of a home across the street from his namesake gallery on Crouse Street working on his latest whimsical piece.

The studio is about what you might expect.

It is full of stuff.

There are tools of every shape and size.

There are creations in various stages of completion.

And just about every nook and cranny are filled with boxes and racks of everything from wires and nut and bolts to odds and ends of pieces and parts.

Drumm will tell you that he knows where everything is...sort of.

But his attention is always on the his latest creation.

On this particular day in the month of May, it is the sun.

He readily admits once he focuses on something, the ideas just keep flowing.

It could be flowers.

It could be birds.

For now, it is the sun.

And that may not come as a surprise, as all eyes, including his, were on the sun just a month ago as the total solar eclipse and his 89th birthday occurred just days apart.

Drumm said the ideas for his latest metal artwork just percolate in his head as they have over the last six decades or so since he graduated from Kent State University and set off to be an artist.

And the fact that orders are still coming in for his special total eclipse pieces has kept him musing over that ball of fire in sky.

The ideas may rest in his head, but they come to life not in metal at first, but on paper − special art cardboard that he cuts and shapes with a large jigsaw.

And then he pieces these cardboard shapes together and glues them in place.

The real magic begins with of all tubes of epoxy.

The epoxy first has to be warmed up over a bare light bulb.

Once he gets the epoxy warmed and mixed to just the right consistency, the real work begins.

Using small tools, Drumm begins the arduous task of slowly applying the epoxy to the cardboard form.

He applies the epoxy layer by layer, working with it while it is still pliable.

The leftover scraps of epoxy create their own pieces of art as they accumulate on his work table.

The piece begins to take on its own personality as work progresses.

Drumm admits the nose and the eyes are the trickiest.

"I tinker with it until I think it is finished," he said. "The eyes are the most important thing I work on. The eyes are the expression of the piece."

And sometimes, this can take hours of whittling away and shaping the epoxy.

"I can't separate myself from the piece," he said. "How can you separate yourself from it?"

He sometimes gets so engrossed in his art that he forgets to stop and eat.

His children make sure there's an ample supply of snacks like Keebler Cheese and Peanut Butter crackers nearby.

Once things are shaped up to his liking and the epoxy sets up, it is sent off so a mold can be made and it can be forged.

But sometimes things don't exactly turn out as planned.

"I just hope they are not too ugly," he said. "I did one the other day that turned out so ugly I turned it into a werewolf."

While Drumm is hard at work in his studio, a small army of people work across the street inside of the gallery that even has another workshop in the back, where the finishing touches are put on the metal artwork.

One of the more recent endeavors in the gallery − aside from filling the orders for the eclipse pieces − has been to catalogue, find and collect the molds of his pieces that span decades and different foundries.

It is not uncommon for the phone to ring at the gallery with someone inquiring about a Drumm piece they found.

Many of his pieces, particularly in the early days, were one of kind, and Drumm did not keep many detailed records, preferring to instead be in his studio creating new pieces.

At age 89, Drumm admits he can't work as long during the day as he used to, though he still works seven days a week.

Still, he admits he is often surprised to look up and realize 6 hours have passed by.

"This really is my happy place," Drumm said. "I wouldn't be doing this if I wasn't having fun."

This article originally appeared on Akron Beacon Journal: A peek inside Akron artist Don Drumm's 'happy place,' where his art comes to life