Slingshot

The tangent of the angle used times the center to center distance between, divided by two. That was my first time making porn. Get your mind out of that skeevy place. I’m talking about the kind of porn that brings the left-brained, or maybe those with OCD, to a place of peace: lines flow parallel, radiuses match, and the spacing is equal. It doesn’t just happen by magic. There is an art—a beautiful ballet of ridged lines that give way to supple curves.

Electrical-porn is what I’m talking about. When done correctly, it brings not only a sense of accomplishment but also that inner peace. There is a significant mental toolbox that gets lugged around for this. Hosts of formulas, learned knowledge, and practical application all come together, along with the physical aspect, forcing the rigid metals to submit to your will. There are two main types of electrical-porn, conduit-porn, and wire-porn. I can’t definitively tell you why it’s called porn; other than that, it is a thing of beauty to be admired when done right.

It all starts with a piece of paper, or sometimes a computer-aided drawing. A blueprint, the scope of how to qualify the art we are about to create. Whether it’s in the air, along a wall, at eye level, or wire tucked into a cabinet, the looks matter to a true artist. Now that there is a location and elevation, we look at how the structure will impact us. Is the building straight, round, and what else is in the way are all considerations for this art. Once we see the task, it’s time to gather up supplies and tools. Sometimes the conduit is as little as half an inch wide, or it can be six inches, but no matter the size, this is where our art starts.

Creating this art can be an infuriating process: too little information, tight constraints, damaged tools, lack of material, and bosses who have nothing better to do than watch you work. At times you just want to yell and throw things; sometimes, you actually do. Kicking and screaming isn’t inner peace at all. Like a slingshot pulled back, the force builds. Will the bands break? Only time will tell.

We persist, moving forward, measuring, bending, cutting, and installing our art. The frustration rears its head again when we find that the bends aren’t exact, or maybe the conduit isn’t level. We try again, looking for where the error was. Days, weeks, perhaps even months go by as this art takes shape. Over time you see the work that you have done; the quality shows. That flash of inner peace finally comes just after you’ve installed the last piece.

That slingshot, with all its tension, lets loose, hurtling away from all the difficulty of the job. It flys to the other side. The side of peace and tranquillity. It is transient at best because after you finish one piece of art, there is always another to start on—the yin and yang. The frustration and the peace, they go round and round. Sometimes in a moment of frustration, you’ll look up and get a glimpse of that inner peace when you see some art you made long ago.

Sadly there is a large part of this art that gets covered up by walls or ceilings. But next time you are out and about, take a look around, look for the art. I must say with great sadness, not everyone who installs conduit is an artist. You may find some hack work. Work that looks bad. Work that isn’t straight, level, or may even look like a festering pile of animal excrement. As with any art, some people just don’t have the skills. When you find the art, that true craft, take a moment to appreciate all the work that went into that moment of zen. It is all around; you just have to find it.