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If you ask Adam Wallacavage why he is an artist, he might shrug and say, "because I enjoy doing it," or "it’s fun."
Entering his brownstone on the 1800 block of South Broad Street, you just know. More importantly, it becomes clear words aren’t enough to explain it.
From the carving of a mouth that almost swallows the doorbell to the stuffed swordfish that greets visitors inside the three-story Victorian, it’s hard to take everything in. But once a chandelier — and there are at least a half-dozen throughout the home — comes into view, all eyes are fixated. Besides lighting a room from its lofty position secured to the ceiling, the 38-year-old’s creations are not conventional.
These eight-legged, oft-cartoon-depicted ocean dwellers known for their suction cup tentacles and inky defenses, are hardly what one suspects as the central light fixture in the dining room. Wallacavage looks at his octopi in a different light — as an art form and inspiration.
"It’s like an obsessive thing — it’s a job and an art and a hobby," he said from the room where the "Medusa" chandelier with snakes replacing the tentacles hangs.
The first chandelier debuted in 2001 around the same time he purchased the house with his now ex-wife and, in June, Wallacavage will showcase several of his sea creatures at the Jonathan LeVine Gallery in New York City.
The forms are plaster cast from rubber and latex molds Wallacavage makes himself. In fact, the whole process was self-taught.
The debut chandelier was inspired by the dining room’s unofficial theme of "20,000 Leagues Under the Sea" with walls painted to appear washed out and weathered and gold-framed Victorian-style mirrors hung, which make the room feel twice its size. The octopus’ color scheme reflects the shoreline — with hues of wet and dry sand — and it is a few feet wide. It’s right at home with the two portholes that peer into the sunroom and tiki bar in the tiny backyard.
There’s similar decorating in many of the rooms and Wallacavage is proud to point out the details behind every door, most a result of his own curiosity as an artist in the self-described do-it-yourself genre.
"I really set out to build a house I could use as a backdrop for photography," he said of another gig in his jack-of-all-trades freelancing. "But then it turned into building the place as a prop, [which] is really my passion, so I’m kind of more interested in building things than I am in photographing them. Although I still do both, they’re kind of separate at the same time."
Another reason behind Wallacavage’s unique designs stems from his lifelong fascination with the ocean. Growing up in Delaware County, he spent summers in Wildwood Crest, N.J., which he still frequents. As a boy, he read "Art Forms in Nature" by Ernst Haeckel, a novel that looks at the way sea life inspires art nouveau, and, years later, was moved to create his dining room.
After graduating high school in 1988, Wallacavage attended the Penn State-Brandywine campus for a year of general studies then enrolled in the Navy Seabees Reserves, where he worked in the construction battalion and remained active for eight years. All the while, he worked at Camera Shop Inc. in Paoli, learning the ins and outs of one-hour photo processing.
His interest grew and Wallacavage enrolled in the University of the Arts, where he graduated in ’95 with a degree in photography. He moved from West Philly, where he lived during college, to Ninth and Ernest streets in ’96. A few years later, he moved to 11th and Ellsworth streets before landing at his abode on Broad. He worked as a freelance photographer and was a founding artist of Space 1026, a gallery and studio at 1026 Arch St., where he would do screen printing, sculpting and photography until he moved to his current home, which had enough room for a workspace.
Wallacavage saw potential in the home that had been a doctor’s office since the ’40s, despite the fact it was uninhabited for seven years.
"It needed a lot of work," he recalled, laughing.
He’s completely gutted the downstairs, converting the waiting room, offices and exam rooms into a foyer, kitchen and dining room. The kitchen’s theme is the circus with a hodgepodge of vintage appliances and wacky decorations — more fish, Addams Family memorabilia and baby pink KitchenAid appliances.
"It’s a Victorian funhouse," he said.
Three flights up, an old bedroom has been converted to one of his studios (there’s also a photography studio and a workspace in the basement) where random tentacles lie in various stages of production. There are clay sculptures that will serve as casts for the rubber molds used to make the plaster casts, rubber starfish molds, latex casts, paint and makeshift protocols of different shapes and designs he wants to try.
Wallacavage is busy at work for his solo show that runs June 28 to July 26. He’s unsure how many pieces he’ll display or their specifics, although he wants at least one large chandelier up to eight-feet wide. He showed at the same gallery, which is owned by a friend, last year and his chandeliers have sold to homeowners and businesses — all via word-of-mouth — in spots like California and Miami and can even be seen nearby as part of the decor at Sailor Jerry, a clothing store at 13th and Sansom streets. Price ranges from $6,000 to $18,000 each, depending on the intricacy. Wallacavage’s pieces are never commissioned, as they are all original designs, and so far they’ve only taken the shape of an octopus.
He’s collaborated with designer and artist friends across the country on pieces like "Fenicologia," a bubble-gum pink-jeweled piece he worked on with L.A.-based designer Tarina Tarantino. He pulls inspiration from churches, Italian architecture and the art he sees around South Philly.
For the most part, the 25 fixtures he’s made to date — with eight more in the works — have simply formed themselves.
"I don’t really plan too much out. I mean, I have the gallery show and I’m thinking about that, but I’m not going to force it, I just do what I like to do and if I get an idea for something else, I’ll do it," he said
If he starts from scratch, the chandeliers take about two months to complete. He works in pieces, painting and sealing with a two-part epoxy resin for strength and shine before outfitting the fixture with tubing and basic wiring he learned from electricians.
The eight-legged lights are usually hung so Wallacavage can photograph them for the Web before selling or shipping them off.
"It’s about the aesthetic design more than it being an octopus," he said. "The reason I use tentacles is it’s something I know how to make and it’s interesting to me. It’s more about the color and design of an object and just finding really pretty forms. I never saw anything like that, so I thought, ‘Well this would be a pretty interesting thing to try to sell.’"
For now, he’ll continue living in his self-made deep-sea world, an environment he said is refreshing.
"I have no plans on moving. I never thought I was going to live here forever when I bought it, but I just have access to everything I want," he said. "I just don’t see the point. I don’t like the suburbs. I hate driving out there, it’s too crowded. It’s an hour and 20 minutes to Wildwood, I’m close to the airport. I can go to L.A. New York’s easy to get to, too."
He’s just as comfortable that his creativity won’t be going anywhere in the near future, either. He will just keep plugging away at his "trial-and-error" technique.
"If you do something once, you have to perfect it, and then you move on. I have no set plan how to do it. It’s like that was neat, that was fun to make, but I’m going to do another one," he said. "I’ll do it till that’s enough, then I’ll do something else."
