Same Time, New Clock
I recently finished a new liturgical clock! Measuring 3x3, this clock represents a new design paradigm as well as fabrication methods that have been slowly evolving since I made the first clock back in 2017. Some of the clock’s main changes are an emphasis on covenantal theology, but also the inclusion of a painting of the seven days of creation at the center of the clock, which further establishes the clock’s circular geometry while also significantly expanding the clock’s ratio of color to wood. The insertion of the seven days of creation created a unique and engaging challenge in finding a way to present its narrative in keeping with the concentric circles.
The other challenge this created was with the time-telling itself. Previous clocks have featured long brass hands that reach out to the outermost circle of the “present” and having two hands to indicate both the time of year and the day of the week would only end up obscuring much of the painting and many of its minute details. After some puzzling, I settled on a very thin hand for the days of the week and the use of a magnetic token that affixes to the face of the clock. Magnets. They’re like magic. I inlaid some thick gauge steel wire flush with the face of the clock right beneath the outermost ring of paint, and found a neodynium magnet. These are strong rascals, but between the minimal mass of wire and the interference from things like wood and woodglue, it’s just strong enough to stay where you put it without having to fight it.
The design of token itself reflects the days of creation in the rays of the sun/rays of divinity. The church, like the five flowers/leaves on the ordinary time side of the clock, is carved from bastogne walnut which is much darker than maple. It has substance and loveliness, but its a bit more opaque. Also, fittingly, walnut is a lot harder to carve. It’s a denser wood than the maple. But on each of the flowers, as on the humble church featured on the token, there are elements that I have gilded in gold paint. Just one coat. Not like the perhaps 20 coats of paint that surround the icons of the New Jerusalem. I like the gilding as a visual suggestion of the church being, as always, “on the way.” Already and not yet.
This inclusion of the seven days of creation came at the request of my first repeat client—in fact, the first client for which I made a clock on commission. The one they ordered back in 2018 was a small affair; it measures 13x13 and because of the size I wasn’t able to include many of the features that have now become standard—most notably the elements of the New Jerusalem. As I made more clocks in subsequent years, and as my designs became more intricate and carefully executed, they began to feel that their wall could accommodate a larger clock.
It’s hard to overstate how amazing an opportunity it’s been to be able to refine the design of the liturgical clock over several iterations. The most obvious comparison is the process of writing a paper. That first clock was the rough draft of a paper that has a sound argument, but an uneven delivery. For those of you who have written papers and and gone through the revision process (especially those of you in grad school) you come to both love and despise this honing process. You learn something new each time you finish a draft; you come to feel a visceral certainty that certain words, phrases, and structures are precisely right. And, more than right in their contribution to the logic of your argument, artful in its articulation.It’s been an incredible privilege for me as an artist to pursue that “argument” and its expression over the last few years.
