The curtain closed downtown Thursday night, in the blink of an eye.
At 10 p.m., Tom Devaney’s giant eyeball closed for the last time, after a going-away party held at his studio on the corner of Pleasant and South Main streets.
There, for three years with a smaller eye and the past 2½ years with the more-recent bigger version, Devaney had created one of Concord’s most distinguishing features, a 3-D projected image (his right eye, which is blue, by the way) that no doubt played tricks with drunk people leaving bars after last call.
An hour before his guests arrived, Devaney told me that the eye’s impact – to glance down and shock a curious city while also serving as a metaphor for Big Brother – had grown tired. It was simply time for some shut-eye.
“It’s become a little staid,” said Devaney, who lives in Bow. “It’s not doing what it used to do. I want to keep downtown interesting, so it’s time for something new. I don’t think people stop anymore.”
Devaney’s studio has become a city landmark, strategically placed for maximum visibility, that many Concord residents probably never bother to inquire about or visit, much like New Yorkers’ treatment of the Empire State Building.
He’s been up on that second floor, above Pitchfork Records, for 12 years, and his artwork is gripping and emotional. His forte is sculpting, and he also teaches drawing at NHTI to supplement his income from sales at art shows and his studio.
He’s got sculpting degrees from the University of Michigan and Boston University and has taught and featured his work in Boston and New York State.
He’s married, has two sons, speaks softly and adds a sharp, fascinating contrast to his life when he says his brother, Chris Devaney, is the most highly decorated member of the New York City Police Department (I looked it up … true).
His sculpture of a woman – naked and skinny –questions popular opinions and images of what sex appeal ought to look like. “What is beauty as a cultural idea?” Devaney asked me.
On a huge wall, there’s a huge painting made from ink pens and oils and gold leaf, with the word “Faith” breaking apart on one side, “Truth” partially obscured on the other, and “Hope” placed in the middle. There’s a Nazi symbol with a small piece missing, and lots of symbols and images that must be studied for a long period of time to fully absorb.
“It shows that ideas matter,” Devaney said. “We do good things and we do bad things. It’s the polarity of thinking in the polar community of today.”
Some drawings show deep human anguish. His steel sculptures sell well. He was commissioned to create a 4-by-8-foot recreation of the old Concord railroad depot and was paid between $7,000 and $8,000 for it.
And then there’s “The Eyeball,” its official name. Devaney’s windows face the core buzz of the city’s life, and as such, people have grown accustomed to looking up and into his studio.
“I thought it would be fun to look back at them,” Devaney told me.
Asked if the eye, which darts around as if it’s searching and spying, was created with something more profound in mind, Devaney said, “Yes, the subtext is surveillance, with social media, the NSA, Facebook, cameras everywhere on poles. But I don’t want that to be a big thing until people look at it and then think about it.”
Adding a dash of irony to the plot, Devaney installed a camera that allowed him to watch from home as people looked at his artwork eye-to-eye. At that point, he might change the image remotely “just for fun.”
Devaney prides himself on being part of the recent downtown facelift, telling me that he thought the eye “was interesting. I thought it would add a little panache to downtown, make people stop, think and wonder. I wanted to be part of the community, not just a studio.”
The eye became a normal part of Devaney’s life. His wife, Catherine Devaney, said one of them sometimes had to say, “Don’t forget to turn on the eye,” before they’d go out for the night.
“I like the eye,” Catherine told me. “I will miss it. It’s been a fun project.”
Starting Friday, as the sun sinks, the city will have to get accustomed to a blind side on the corner of Pleasant and South Main. The eye will be missed.
“Every time I’d drive up from Pleasant Street, I’d see it and it would put a smile on my face,” said Magdalene Soule of Concord, a college student who works part time for Devaney. “But this should be a celebration, not a sad time.”
That was the consensus, that the eye had served its purpose, and nothing with such life and energy lasts forever. In rapid-fire succession, three of Devaney’s students at NHTI mixed nostalgia with their artistic need for change.
“As an artist you want to be able to move on,” said Miranda Harris of Concord. “It’s good to switch things up. Sad but necessary.”
“It’s really sad to see it go, but its impact has passed and he’ll be able to make it have bigger impact,” said Misty Martell of Loudon.
“A bigger statement will come,” said Danielle Drewes of Concord.
“But what will come next?” wondered Harris.
When asked, Devaney gave me a wry smile. He wouldn’t budge.
“I have some thoughts,” he told me. “Yes, it will be interesting.”
We’ll be watching.