People trek to Delaney's Surplus in rural North Freedom, 30 minutes south of the Wisconsin Dells, for the deals: everything from screwdrivers to snack cakes (undated only) to 6-foot-tall industrial blenders. Walk through Delaney's yard to take in ancient Cushman golf carts, tractor cabs, an old crane thrust in the lush vegetation, and even larger stuff that fits no pattern you've yet seen in this strange collection of strange objects. What is this towering -- tower -- in the distance? You are compelled, like a magnetic charge, to walk toward it and find out. This is, perhaps, the best introduction to Dr. Evermor's Sculpture Park.
Dr. Evermor's Sculpture Park, adjacent to Delaney's Surplus, is not well marked. This set of exotic, whimsical and dark science fiction sculptures resembling a Hollywood version of 1890 lies next to a salvage yard and across the highway from the remains of what was once the world's largest ammunition plant.
The sculptures covering 5 acres invite reflection on consumption and war, and then answer that reflection with a conversation that is unique -- and enormous in size and scale. And the sculpture park fits right in southern Wisconsin's landscape of tourist traps, historic sites and museums nestled among the pristine lakes and state parks of the Baraboo Hills. Visitors -- sometimes a few, sometimes 100 a day -- find their way to the park.
Tom Every is the sculptor, engineer and chief storyteller behind the art park, which centers on the mythical creation of Dr. Evermor. It all began in the early '80s, when Every was heavy into the salvage industry and also using welding and sculpting as primary creative activities to battle depression. Reading Every's story in "A Mythic Obsession: The World of Dr. Evermor" by Tom Kupsh, you realize each of the odd and oddly beautiful objects has a tale behind it, often involving escape from Earth into the heavens.
Childhood readings of Jules Verne and an interest in the eccentric inventor Nikola Tesla and his ideas about electricity helped shape the sculptures. But Every is also committed to preserving the integrity of the shapes retrieved from his many salvage jobs, including an en masse purchase of 470,000 parts from the now-defunct Badger Ordnance Works.
The dramatic "Forevertron" sculpture, standing more than four stories tall with the egg-shaped "travel chamber" at the top and "thrusters" extending down the side, seems about to take off. It's not hard to imagine a pith-helmeted Dr. Evermor climbing up to begin his voyage.
The park also includes a variety of intriguingly named sculptures: the "Faraday Stray Voltage Cage," an "Overlord Master Control Tower," a mobile "Magnetic Laser Love Gun," "Celestial Listening" ears and a "Royal Gazebo" for watching imaginary liftoffs.
Walking through the park yields surprise sculptures at every turn, including iron birds jamming in fantasy musical bands, clown cars and an anatomically correct 14-foot spider weighing 17,000 pounds.
The park's location across from the defunct munitions plant may not be coincidental -- both seem cut from the same military cloth. Sculptures are reminiscent of pointed cannons, rockets ready to launch, advancing armies of birds and crouching insects with gas masks, oversize teeth and pincers. As Every puts it, in his work, he looks "for guidance from the heavens."
Kirk Livingston is a freelance writer in New Brighton.
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