3 Twin Cities artisans create new work in traditions that date back centuries

It's not that these masters of Old World arts eschew modern ways. All three have beautiful websites (although it's true that blacksmith Lisa Elias doesn't possess a cellphone). But their work with stone, metal and paint calls back to previous eras.

Was there a fresco artist like Carter Averbeck on the Mayflower? History doesn't reveal that but one thing's for sure: Artisans have been bringing unique skills to this country ever since it was founded, often blending them with techniques learned from the indigenous people who already lived here.

Those unique skills continue to beautify our world, courtesy of contemporary artists whose practice of their crafts is not all that different from the way it's been done for centuries. They may not be as plentiful or as well-known as Leonardo da Vinci, one of the most famous people of his era, but they've put in the years that it takes to become experts. And they often collaborate on projects with colleagues, knowing that each brings something unique.

Stone carver Jean Pierre Jacquet believes artisans are naturally drawn to specific materials — "We can't really know how to describe it. I just know, when I was a teenager, instead of being a carpenter or a mechanic, I was attracted to stone" — and Minnesotans are the beneficiaries of that attraction. That's true in private homes and public monuments, where these three artisans are proving that everything old is new again.

Carter Averbeck's career was launched by an allergy. "I was always super-interested in frescoes," says Averbeck, an interior designer/artist who paints them in Twin Cities homes and helps re-create them in restoration work, in addition to creating furniture and spaces via his Omforme Design. "I'm allergic to oil paint, so I can't paint in oil, but fresco is water-based and it's an ancient form. So I thought, 'I want to learn more about that.' "

Fresh out of school in Washington, the Seattle native applied for a scholarship to learn about fresco painting from a French master in Barcelona. He immediately fell in love with the process, which involves either painting on wet plaster (as in the most famous fresco of all, Michelangelo's Sistine Chapel) or dry painting. It combines a number of different loves.

"They painted so beautifully back in [ancient] days. And they had to learn about proportion, light and color. They had to learn to draw. They had to learn all types of perspective and foreshortening and how to elongate figures so they'd look proportional from different parts of a room," says Averbeck.

When it's finished, predicts Averbeck, who created murals for Prince's home as well as for Cafe Lurcat, "It's going to reinvigorate an entire region of Minnesota."

Averbeck considers himself an artist for hire (so did Michelangelo, for that matter) and he enjoys figuring out what will make a client happy. "I'll tell people how I make paints out of milk and chicken fat and egg whites, if we're doing something in an Old World style. Or, even in a modern style, it's fun to show a time-lapse thing I did on Instagram. I think people enjoy the process," says Averbeck. "They like to see what goes into creating even something as simple as a mural, and I like to educate them."

Jean Pierre Jacquet's credentials as a master were solidified when he worked on a centuries-old cathedral that had also drawn the attention of a painting legend you may have heard of: Claude Monet.

"Sometimes, you work on a great monument, things like the Arc de Triomphe in Paris or a castle. And, when you go back to those places and see them, restored with stone that you put on them, you are kind of proud of the monument. You feel like you were there when they built it, especially since after a few years the stone will age and you won't see the difference between the old stone and the new," says Jacquet, recalling his work as a journeyman on the Rouen Cathedral in Normandy, France, which was painted many times by Monet. "He was way before my time, of course, but in his paintings you can see some of the stones that I had to replace."

Jacquet is now based in Burnsville, drawn to the U.S. by his boyhood fascination with the Apollo missions and TV shows such as "Starsky and Hutch." But the stone artisan was trained by a method that extends back through the centuries in Europe. At 16, he began a decadelong apprenticeship that took him across Europe, moving every six months to a new town that had a monument that needed to be restored, a village entrance that could use a touch-up or a castle with crumbling limestone.

Jacquet likes all kinds of stone but the one he dreams of is a big chunk of marble purchased by his architect grandfather that still sits back home in France, waiting for Jacquet to sculpt it. The possibilities inherent in that uncarved stone are a great metaphor for his work, in fact. Even if most of his current projects are relatively new, working on them requires stone that is centuries old and that, in the carving, connects Jacquet to the long history of his craft.

Lisa Elias knows there's a good chance people will ram their cars into her work. Elias, a metal artist and blacksmith, is best known for crafting metal items large (9-foot-tall bird baths, the 6-foot-tall door handles at Baldamar restaurant in Roseville) and small (candle holders, paper towel holders). But in the past few years, she has created about 200 stop-sign poles for the city of St. Paul.

"We have stop signs everywhere and about six years ago when I started with the St. Paul program, we said, 'What could we do to make these posts more interesting?' I had to do a lot of drawings and the engineers had to say, 'Yes, that can happen,' or 'No way,' " recalls Elias, whose studio is in northeast Minneapolis. "Mine are more floral or organic. You can't touch anything about the sign or decorate it or frame it. Most importantly, if the post gets hit by a car, which it will some day, it has to have an adequate breakaway system."

Although she once thought she'd end up a glass blower — she studied glass and metal work at the University of Minnesota — most of Elias' projects are not made to be busted. A gate she created for Sonny's Cafe (the former Crema Cafe) in Minneapolis is still standing, as is a downtown Minneapolis water fountain, a wall piece near the Fresh Thyme Grocery in St. Louis Park and a favorite of hers, a graceful arch at Minnetonka's Burwell House. Coming soon are trash cans, benches and signage for the new Hook & Ladder Apartments in Minneapolis.

The youngest of nine, Elias grew up in a family of artist siblings, with a mom and grandmother who were painters. There wasn't a lot of room for art projects, which is why she figures she landed on work that is both creative and useful.

"I was just thinking about the piece by Fresh Thyme. It's a great piece but I'd also like to take it further. I'd be excited to fine-tune it, make it into something way cooler," says Elias, who rarely gets to ply her trade on the scale of that work, which is about 20 by 25 feet.

Although her method of working isn't much different from metal artistry of past eras, Elias says she doesn't contemplate the tradition that preceded her. She's too busy figuring out what she's going to do next. 