Playing with Fire

As an artist, Terry Brinton is a freak. In every sense of the word, he is a freak of nature – an outlier, one who transcends the definition of normal. He is a freak in the same light as those who break free from social configuration by defining their own sense of normal.

But no one would know that after just talking with the 24-year-old NIC graduate who continues taking classes at the college. Brinton fits every accepted collegiate stereotype

known to man, dawning a hooded sweatshirt emblazed with an average college logo (West Virginia, in his case), shaggy hair, torn jeans and an old pair of sneakers.

Indeed, there is nothing freaky at all about that. But when a person takes a gander at his artwork, however, it doesn’t take long before he realizes that Brinton flourishes at a level of which most collegiate artists only dream.

His pieces are more reminiscent of the Australian outback than the Guggenheim. Rightfully so, for while other student-artists are busy copying famous artists from past and present, Brinton derives his inspiration from cultures rather than icons.

“I like pieces that look like artifacts,” he said. “Everybody’s work is going to be influenced by the artists they admire. There’s artists I admire, too, but I try to build on my philosophies instead of copying.”

Those philosophies are ever-present throughout his Tubbs Hillside home, where he lives with fiancée Lindsey Schoonover. On the living room wall, sharp copper poles protrude upward just enough to hang a piece of silk over a molten mass of metal that oddly resembles a mask from ancient Africa. Not to mention the back room, where his metalwork seemingly sprawls from every corner. In a glorious glow of red (the lamp is covered with fabric), sketches, paintings and sculptures fill the room where the couple keeps their home theater.

“Some of them are scary and give me nightmares,” Schoonover said. “I’ve made him hide some a few times, but I absolutely love them.”

And it’s that same philosophy – whether inspired from Africa, Oceana or Native America – that can be found on Brinton’s latest endeavor: a heaping mass of copper and stainless steel twisted and welded and cut in so many ways, it’s the most dangerous-looking fountain most people are likely to see.

That’s right, a fountain.

Though dangerous-looking, it was made to help. Brinton was hired by the Coeur d’Alene Community Art Project’s Fountain of Wishes fundraiser to design and sculpt a fountain with a budget of $5,000.

Much like the Moose on the Loose program two years ago – where painted moose statues were strewn about the city in hopes of raising money for local schools – Brinton’s fountain will accompany 13 others along Sherman Avenue. Each fountain will collect change for charity, and at the end of the summer all the fountains will be auctioned. The Coeur d’Alene Fire Department will benefit from Brinton’s fountain.

“If we raise enough money,” Brinton said, “the fire department will be able to buy infrared cameras to locate bodies in burning buildings. Right now they just have to walk around and feel in the smoke.”

Last Monday he won first place at the student art show and even sold a piece for $350. On May 3, from 4- 7 p.m. in the Driftwood Bay upstairs at the SUB, Brinton will be holding his own art show.