Artist Profile – written by Don Conkey

Bob LeClair

For many years, Bob LeClair wondered if he could ever be an artist.

Ironically, wonderment – his natural sense of curiosity – is what brought him there.

“I have this kind of endless well of creative curiosity,” Bob said, “and when I make
something, I really get a sense of well-being.”

Likewise, people get a sense of well-being when they see the things that Bob creates.

Bob is an artisan who specializes in woodworked automata, crafting mechanical toys
‘brought to life’ through manual activation, no electronics involved.

“They’re wooden toys that I make, and you turn the crank and they do other things,”
Bob said.

When Bob shows his automata creations to anyone, young or old, smiles abound. Partly
because of the fascination of watching intricate movements of individual pieces blending into a
whole; and, largely because of the smile on Bob’s face, when he describes what he made, and
the story behind it.

“I love showing my work,” he said. “I love the idea that I had an idea, and I’ve seen it
through.”

Bob’s journey from creative curiosity to that sense of artistic well-being – seeing those
smiles from people admiring his artistry – was not a short one.

Bob grew up in Southwick, in a family that encouraged hands-on activity. “My father
had a wood shop in his cellar, and would make things, like the kitchen table. My mother sewed
and cooked, and she would get us involved in things like hooked rugs, and making apple-head
dolls.

“I enjoyed it. That sense of making something with your hands is pretty amazing.”

His professional career path took him to a variety of jobs, among them production
planning and landscaping, but the working-with-your-hands element was not a big factor for
him career-wise.

“It was when I knew that I was going to retire that I started doing a lot more art,” he
said.

At about that time, around eight years ago, a broken cuckoo clock sparked his curiosity
and set his artistic instincts into full gear.

“Cuckoo clocks had always fascinated me, how all the pieces worked,” he said. “I had
picked up a cuckoo clock, and it didn’t work, so I went on YouTube to see how to fix it, and all
this stuff comes up, how to fix things, and I’m like ‘What is this? What is that these people are
making?

“And that’s when I learned about automata.”

So, Bob started making things. And more things. And when he found out that there was
going to be an automata convention in New Jersey, he signed up.

“It was crazy there,” he said. “It was insane. There were makers, collectors, and media.

“I was a maker. And that’s when I looked around and I said ‘Oh my God! I am right at the
level of these people.

“And I came home, and I declared myself an artist.”

Today, Bob, an Agawam resident, is a member of Agawam Community Artists and
Artisans. Beyond what he contributes to the group artistically, Bob is part of the backbone that
any organization such as ACAA requires to function: a person who is always willing to help in
any circumstance, behind the scenes or in front of them.

“I joined the group because I felt that I had just discovered myself as an artist, and I
wanted to meet other people who had the same interests,” he said.

He was one of the first artisans in the group, “then mostly artists, people who paint,”
and the artists welcomed him with full brushstrokes of enthusiasm.

“I promoted the artisan part of it. I would bring in things to show at meetings, and
people were so hungry for it. I would show them a toy or something, that wasn’t a painting, and
they would say ‘Oh, wow! That’s pretty cool!’”

He has never forgotten that welcoming feeling, and thus gives back. “I want to see that
group grow and do better,” he said. “So, I help where I can.”

Bob has steadily grown artistically. Along with automata, he also works in varied other
mediums – among them watercolor, acrylic, gel plate, fabric, and linocut printing.

His versatility shows in that one of signature works is not automata. It is a sculptural
bust, of Medusa, in which he combined a foam wig stand, wooden and rubber snakes, mastic,
and a patina brass/paint effect to create a haunting work of art.

There is Elbert Wiggleworth, made of clay, loosely named after a kid he knew growing
up “who we called Wiggleworth.” Today, old Elbert Wiggleworth proudly sits on the
introductory page of Bob’s artist website – www.elbertw.com – “because,” Bob said, “Elbert
has many stories to tell about his world travels.”

But while Bob’s pride shines through in his work in any medium, perhaps his first love is
still his favorite: the automata.

The wooden toys with the very human stories attached.

There is, for instance, a piece he calls “Flying on Top of the World,” which he began
making on the day he turned 60. “I decided ‘I’m not going to be bummed out by turning 60,’”
he said. “Instead, I’m going to make myself a toy,” resulting in a work in which a turn of the
crank causes the world to spin above a box, “and that’s me, on top of the world,” he said.

There is Mordecai Whipple, riding his wagon through the Old West, selling anything and
everything. Where did that name come from? One of Bob’s aunts had a last name of Whipple;
and one of Bob’s relatives was Luigi Curto of Springfield, a “little person” who, under the stage
name of Billy Curtis, had an extensive film career that included a role as a Munchkin in “The
Wizard of Oz”, and a featured role in Clint Eastwood’s “High Plains Drifter” in which his name
was … Mordecai.

And, there is the piece that Bob no longer has. A special piece, with a special story.

“I made it for my brother. We’re a year apart, and we always had a rivalry growing up.
Brothers.

“We got along much better as we got older. And I decided that I’m going to make him a
piece. He likes to ice fish. So I made this whole design of how to make this little ice fisherman,
that pulls the fish out.

“He loves it. He absolutely treasures it. And someday, one of his children will take that
piece, and know that it came from me.”

He paused, perhaps pondering how just how far he has come, from that convention in
New Jersey.

“My pieces will outlive me,” he said.

“They’re my legacy.”