The first week of Art Studio Thesis exhibitions went up in the Ezra and Cecile Zilkha Gallery on Tuesday, March 25, 2025. The artworks remained on display until Saturday, March 29, when they were dismounted and replaced by a new round of projects. The gallery will show six exhibition cycles in this fashion, one per week, ending on Sunday, May 4.
I was fortunate to visit during the final hours of the first exhibition. As I strolled through Zilkha, I was hypnotized by the various colors, textures, and materials used in the theses. The size, scale, and ambition of the works I saw in the gallery were incredibly impressive, and reminded me of the pride I have in our campus.
One thesis that I found particularly amusing was “2674” by Thomas Purello ’25, an outdoor, interactive exhibit complete with a sandpit, weapon racks, swords, shields, and a wooden fence. Tucked into a nook outside of the gallery, the exhibit carried gravitas: It made me feel as if I were fighting an epic, medieval duel in Middletown. Once my friends and I had equipped ourselves with safety goggles, hard hats, and work gloves, we headed into combat.
The exhibit showcased a range of weapons varying in size, function, geographical origin, and historical era. Almost all of the weapons were hewn from oak, except for the daabs. A daab is a type of sword made of maple, typically held one in each hand. It originates from krabi-krabong, a style of Thai martial arts. Unlike the oaken weapons, which were peppered with pockmarks and chips, the maple-hewn daabs were able to endure much more wear and tear. Hilariously, the circular Viking shield was capped with a metal bowl which was pilfered (borrowed?) from Usdan Marketplace. Oops.
Like the daabs, many of the weapons and shields tell rich and unique stories, which Purello researched prior to drawing up designs.
“I think the cinquedea is a very unique-looking weapon with a cool history,” Purello said. “From what I read about them, they weren’t typically used for fighting but were more of a status symbol for rich Renaissance-era Italians to flex on other rich people. They had extra-wide blades that would be covered with crazy engravings, and had wildly uncomfortable handles and cross-guards that were just meant to look cool, and I think that’s awesome.”
As an Environmental Studies major, Purello is also an expert in conserving resources. Except for the 2x4s that marked off the fighting area, almost all of the wood was reused from other Center for the Arts (CFA) projects. The material for the grips was sourced from Goodwill belts. Most impressively, he created the sandpit from a pile of sawdust he’d been collecting in the workshop for four weeks (seems you don’t need to spend like a king in order to fight like a knight!).
Purello began ambitiously brainstorming for “2674” in Fall 2023, his sophomore year. He was inspired to create his own mythical weapons after reading George R. R. Martin’s classic fantasy novel “A Game of Thrones.” He was astonished when his prototypes instantly got rave reviews from his friends.
“This got me thinking about why I, as well as others, seemed to love fighting with wooden weapons so much, which is where this idea of violence as a form of play came about and ultimately became my thesis,” Purello said.
That idea of weapons as toys relates to the cryptic title of the exhibit, which Purello says comes from the ID Number of a Lego piece.
“Part 2674 is a single piece of molded plastic [in the Rivendell set] that contains 16 swords which can be snapped off and given to minifigures,” he said. “So I felt it was fitting, as it relates to the idea of playing through Lego, while also being a bunch of swords that make up a single piece, much like my thesis…. I also get a kick out of the fact that the name confuses the hell out of everyone who interacts with my work.”
If it wasn’t already clear, Purello’s design process is meticulous. For his projects, he typically starts with a general idea or item (for “2674”, it was a broadsword). He then looks up dimensions, weight, and prototypes, and continues on to other models.
“From there, I’ll make cross-guards, pommels, shield handles…by picking out the wood, sketching, and carving the part with various tools like spokeshaves or chisels,” Purello said. “More general items, like the fences or weapons racks, I create by first coming up with a design on paper.”
He confesses that sketching a project is ultimately the most wearisome task, and he hates to start a project he knows he might not come back to.
“I always start a project with the intent of completing it, so even my prototypes I consider to be finalized ideas, even if it doesn’t work as well as a later version,” he said.
In terms of technique, the most difficult part of the project was printing the text onto the greeting sign. Purello began by gluing six strips of oak together. He then cut a stamp into the panel using laser settings, which he figured out how to use with the help of some colleagues, Adjunct Assistant Professor of Art and Art Studio Technician Kate TenEyck and Will Richmond ’18. The process was complicated by the fact that the engraving needed to be deep enough that the design wouldn’t bleed through once ink was applied.
“Overall, it required a combination of mediums I was not experienced in, but turned out way better than I expected,” Purello said.
There were a few other moments when Purello needed certain skills he had not yet learned. For example, building the drywall was like crafting a house wall with studs, blocking, and drywall.
“[It] was a task I definitely had to spend some time on to ensure a smooth and clean surface for display,” he said.
In addition, there was the spiritual turmoil of having to see your progeny get torn up in battle.
“I also had to come to terms with the inevitable fact that the weapons would get destroyed, which may have been the most difficult thing for me to tackle mentally in the thesis,” Purello said.
Luckily, by the time I visited the arena—during the last outdoor showing, in fact—the weapons were still in rather excellent condition.
In total, Purello estimates that between 120 and 150 people came and fought in the arena during the five days it was open. Some watched through Zilkha’s tall windows, peering down on the spectacle from above like royalty in the stands of the Colosseum. The exhibit was open to anyone and everyone, but it was mostly faculty, students, and students’ families who came.
“I’m not sure if anyone else from outside Wes came, but I know that I had some enthusiastic parents in attendance for sure,” he added.
Given the chance to start over, Purello wouldn’t change much. The final product certainly met his expectations, and the equipment withstood many a beating. Originally, Purello had planned to craft up to 50 weapons, ranging in style from historical to modern to fantastical. He conceptualized a modern arena alongside the medieval one, which would involve modern infrastructure like concrete and chain-link fences. He even considered making wooden guns and grenades; however, worrying that these items would incite fear, he stepped back. As the deadline drew closer and closer, his grand vision of halberds, maces, and hammers had to be pared down.
“Maybe at some point I’ll get to return to the original idea and really flesh it out in its entirety,” he speculated.
So what’s next after “2674”? Post-grad, Purello has his eye on the world of art and architecture. He’s considering an internship in architecture or a job in museum curation. With only the slightest shred of sarcasm, he says he’s considered moving to NYC, like a lot of Wes students. But only time will tell if that ends up happening.
He’s also thinking of pursuing a job in art education in North Carolina, his home state.
“My state has been cutting public school art classes, but there are some organizations like the Industrial Commons who are trying to ensure that kids still have access to those classes, and I’d be really into doing something like that too,” he said.
Conrad Lewis can be reached at cg*****@******an.edu.
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