The toys I’m making these days are all about lights and music. Things that light up have always fascinated me; I did a deep dive into that fascination during my steampunk lamp phase. Although lamps are practical objects that we don’t normally think of as toys, the steampunk genre is quite playful. It naturally lends itself to moving beyond utility into the realm of gee-whiz fun. In this post, I’ll show lamps I made over a period of about two years, delve into some of the development process, and describe how they evolved.
Getting Started
I first caught the lamp-making bug in spring of 2018 when I stumbled across this vintage electronic gear at a yardsale. At $5 each, how could I pass them by? I was already intrigued by steampunk lamps I had seen, and these seemed to beg for new life as part of something amazing. Perhaps predictably, these now-refurbished items never made into a lamp, and are still hopefully gracing the shelf in my workshop. Maybe someday!
In one of those “everything’s a nail” moment (if you happen to have a hammer!), I almost immediately stumbled upon a treasure trove of steampunk lamp-building paraphernalia advertised by a local fellow who was getting out of the business.
Crankshaft Lamp
One of my newly-acquired gems was this large crankshaft. The center had been drilled out to accept a long piece of pipe – clearly meant to be a floor lamp. I discovered that the 6 holes in the assembly were exactly the right size for holding candelabra bulbs. So the overall design was to be a set of lights in the crankshaft base, a set of lights atop the long piece of pipe, with a switch and “eye candy” in the middle.
I was hung-up for quite a while on the notion that wiring for the base bulbs would need to run through the central pipe. If I wanted the wires to be hidden (and of course I did!) I’d need to drill into the steel casing of the crankshaft. With my hardest cobalt bits, my poor little Craftsman drill press couldn’t even make a dent no matter how patient I was.
Just as I was ready to give in and contract out to a machine shop, I had a flash of inspiration – what if the wires didn’t need to be hidden? I could turn a bug into a feature; the wires could become a prominent element of the design!
Metal flex conduit is flexible, easy to cut to length, and made to encase wiring. And it has that retro industrial look I crave! Candelabra sockets fit perfectly, held in place by silicon caulk.
This first lamp was my opportunity to discover how fortunate I am to have an amazing plumbing and electrical supply store literally 2 minutes from my house (a big shout out to Eureka Supply; you folks are the best!). I quickly became a regular and began to learn about floor flanges, union and merchant couplings, NPT threads, etc, etc. What fun!
Plumbing parts are wonderful for on-the-fly design – everything comes apart and goes together easily, and they’re much more durable than Tinker Toys or Legos. Plus they look great! I bought sections of pipe in a number of lengths and a bunch of connectors, then assembled and disassembled until I got something that looked good and was structurally sound.
Finding just the right housing for the 4-position switch (upper lights on, lower lights on, both on, both off) was a challenge. Fortunately, I had help. While perusing a local antique store one day, my wife suggested I look at a couple of antique car radiator caps. A quick look, a quick “Nah”. And fifteen minutes later, we left, cap in hand. It just so happened that I had a gizmo (I’m not even sure what) with a domed part that was a perfect match; a couple coats of black paint, a bit of drilling, and a half-dozen brass screws gave me an assembly that looks custom-designed for this piece. I love it when things come together like this!
I’ve been collecting antique tools for a very long time. It was probably 20 years ago that I found this wonderful old steam gauge in a Connecticut antique shop. It hung on my wall for years, before finding a home in this lamp. And once again, plumbing was my friend – it just screwed right in!
This gooseneck octopus (well, pentapus if I want to be precise!) is a repurposed lamp part that I found on the scrap heap at a welding workshop. Since it was made for lighting, all it needed was a coat of paint.
The 5 lights at the top needed just the right enclosures for each of the candelabra bulbs. The answer – indulge my love of capers! I used etching cream to give the jars a frosted translucent appearance. Drilling through the cap and then cutting with tin snips gave me a hole for the light socket, and silicone caulk holds the cap and light socket in place. Once the bulb is installed, the lamp shade screws right on! Neat!
The finished lamp. This really lights up our living room!
Compressor Lamp
This lamp has far more antique elements than any I’ve created to-date. As it came together, an early twentieth-century circus vibe began to emerge. Four separately-controllable lights help to make it both practical and fun!
In my early days as a steampunk pack rat I discovered the wonderful scrapyard outside of Berryville, about 10 miles away. The moment I spotted this discarded air compressor, I knew I had something special. Painting it in black, red, and gold gave it a festive look.
To my delight, the opening on the bottom left, which I think would have held a missing oil cap, was a perfect fit for a candelabra socket. And openings at the top were standard threading sizes for plumbing fixture.
By replacing the pistons with a dowel rod, I was able to make room for the electrical cord, while allowing the flywheel to be spun by hand. Every circus toy needs to spin!
Here are the pistons I removed from the compressor. They’re sitting on a shelf now in my workshop, waiting patiently. I have a picture in my head of a large toy that includes a pair of glass cylinders with pistons inside. And the crankshaft connected to something that makes it turn, so the pistons slowly go up and down. Sort of like the “visible V8” engines toys from my childhood, but different!
I picked up this beautiful solid oak phone box at an antique mall. It was just the right size for a lamp base, with plenty of room for the switches and wiring.
The elegan on/off switches are newly manufactured by a company specializing in retro-style lamp parts. I’m reaping the benefits of working on something trendy!
I picked up this antique engine oiler on ebay. It hung on the wall with my tool collection for a number of years, until it told me it wanted to become a light holder!
The string of miniature LEDs, connected by copper wire, was just the right size for coiling into the oiler’s glass enclosure. It’s a sweet little night light!
This antique automobile running light was part of a lamp I found in an antique mall, then disassembled.
As with the crankshaft lamp, most of the wiring runs inside plumbing fixtures. Where an internal connection is impractical, conduit saves the day again!
A screw post at the back of the auto lamp provided a convenient place to attach a T-connector. This provides support for a long run of conduit from the lights on the left side of the lamp to those on the right.
This old gas torch valve and gauge was donated by a friend. Gauges are one of the classic “go-to’s” of the streampunk crowd. I’m fortunate to have a small stash of them. When I run out, more are readily available on ebay, but they can be pricey!
As with the previous lamp, plumbing parts figure heavily in this lamp’s design. An old gear, a antique store find, adds to the fun by turning freely when given a flick.
A vintage thermostat control was another yard sale find. Steel wool and spray paint worked wonders on this handsome old control. And it turns too!
It’s now purely decorative; if I were redoing the lamp, I’d explore repurposing this part as a brightness control for the light above it.
I bought this vintage ball valve at the same time as the gears above. Brass with black iron, multiple handles and screws, a unique bulbous shape – this component is dripping with steampunk elegance!
The cage for this vintage-style Edison bulb is part of my original lamp-building equipment haul. It turns out this is a common component, readily available from lamp supply houses. It fits very well with a standard plumbing coupling, attached with silicone caulk.
Borg Lamp
The Borg lamp, named by my wife (yes, we’re both Trekkies!), is my largest lamp to-date. It stands just shy of six feet.
To paraphrase the words of one of my favorite authors, JRR Tolkien, “This lamp grew in the making”. In fact, none of my lamps start with a design, either sketched or mental. They begin with a handful of compelling components and perhaps a concept or two. This particular construction evolved organically into a 3-tier retro-industrial layer cake.
The four components below were key to the Borg lamp’s evolution. I had all of them in my shop before I started, and knew that I’d include all of them, although not exactly how or where. I’ll discuss each in detail as I drive through the design process.
This industrial-sized plumbing valve was a gift from a friend. When I got it, it was covered in institutional-gray paint. Paint removal is slow and tedious, but can be so worth it!
Using plumbing fixtures, the valve fit remarkably well into a heavy spray-painted brake drum.
A gas regulator – another yard-sale find – made a very handy control panel for the lamp. The regulator was easy to drill – 4 holes for toggle switches controlling the four zones (LED spiral, middle layer bulb, top layer center bulb, top layer outer set of 5 lights), 3 holes for the RGB (red, green, blue) controls for the LED spiral, and a center hole for the green power light. Packing all the wiring into this tight space was a challenge, but everything did fit!
I lifted the RGB controls for the LEDs out of a commercial RGB controller for strip lighting. The control circuit, potentiometers, and knobs were directly useful; the plastic housing went into my “future parts” collection.
The 110V AC green power LED is on whenever the light is plugged in. I bought this on ebay; since then, I’ve found much cheaper alternatives, in packs of 5 or 6, on Amazon.
Constraints imposed by the geometry of selected components can be a big challenge in developing a design. Here’s a case where standard off-the-shelf components seemed inadequate. I wanted the wires connecting the gas regulator control panel with the rest of the lamp to run inside plumbing fixtures. Since both the regulator and the large central brass valve have fixed positions (due to the layout of the brake drum on which they both rest), I had a fixed horizontal distance to work within. A union coupler seemed a requirement – this component (the large octagonal nut in the center) permits parts in fixed positions to be joined by having a free-turning tightener. It’s also large and bulky; with it in-line there was no room for a standard T-connector above the brass valve. My solution – drill a hole in the side of the upright pipe, and thread it (using a tap-and-die set) to permit using a short merchant coupling threaded on both sides. Certainly, not the only way to design this connection, but one that works, and looks good!
Atop the brass valve assembly is this junkyard auger. It was painted bright yellow when I got it; another long session with paint stripper, wire wheel, and steel wool revealed the amazing metal surface.
To permit tying the auger into the rest of the support system, I welded plumbing fixtures onto both ends. As a beginning welder, I was very focused on how to use the gear, and failed to think through how to get the parts properly aligned. As a result, the final lamp has a very slight tilt to the upper half. It’s one of those things that as the maker I notice (and, yes, it does annoy me!), but no one else seems to. If I were doing this again, I would attach long pipes to each end, and devise a clamping/alignment system before welding. Live and learn!
A set of five corrugated copper supply lines give the bottom of the lamp visual interest, but have no particular function. I love how they reflect the 5-fold symmetry of the brake drums and rotors used at each level of the lamp.
I was excited to start working with LED strips, particularly with the RGB controls for real time color adjustment. I hadn’t yet discovered addressable LEDs, which permit individual color control of each light, and which I now use exclusively; in this lamp, all LEDs are the same color.
I wanted to accentuate the spiral form – something that fascinates me and shows up in my work repeatedly – so I wrapped both the outer edge and the inner surface of the auger. To get power to the LEDs, I ran 4-wire connectors (red, green, blue power, and ground) through a drilled opening in the central shaft to the outer spiral, and then at the top (not shown here), a similar set of wires from the outer to the inner spiral. After several less-than-satisfactory attempts to attach the LED strips to the metal, clear silicone caulk turned out to work incredibly well. And three years later, it’s holding up great!
Notice the use of 45 degree elbow fittings and straight lengths of tubing to direct the structure surrounding the auger inward, and gathering it at the top. The 5-fold symmetry continues through the brake rotor and up into the middle tier.
On this level, I wanted to continue the spiral motif juxtaposed with linear upward elements, but to reverse it – so the inner spiral from the first level is now on the outside and the linear structures are in the center.
Constructing the spiral was an interesting challenge in geometry. 45° elbow fittings seemed perfect for the curves of the spiral, but finding the correct lengths for the connectors, and assembling the ensemble to be finger-tight was tricky; I tried quite a number of combinations before settling on what you see here.
The decision to place a bulb in the middle also added complexity to the design. A set of pillars connecting a pair of floor flanges above and below the bulb provided central support for the top layer. However, there was no longer a direct path for electrical wires leading from the base of the lamp to the bulb in the center of the upper level.
The solution was to run a sixth electrical line from the base of the lamp all the way to the top. Five lines were already required to supply electricity to the five bulbs at the top. Each line runs through the corrugated copper tubing in the bottom layer, through an arm of the spiral in the middle layer, and up into one of the arms (shown at right) holding a light at the top. The sixth line was added to one of the existing five. A hole drilled in the elbow at the top of the middle layer, at the underside of the brake drum, allows that wire to exit the arm and enter the central shaft through a hole drilled in it.
Glass insulators work very well as lampshades for the five incandescent candelabra bulbs. An inner pipe houses the bulb, a larger, outer pipe holds the insulator, which simply rests atop.
I bought the large incandescent bulb in the center from a specialty lighting outfit online. It’s about fifteen inches high, with a double-helix filament. The perfect topping for this lamp!
The Borg lamp, fully lit in all its glory.
UFO Smelter Lamp
This lamp started with an antique mall find. Tucked away on a high shelf in a small stall at the back was a vaguely Coleman lantern-like item covered in the most gloppy, hideous silver paint that you can imagine (I’m only sorry I never took a “before” photo). The proprietor seemed pleased to get it off his hands for $25, and I, unsure if I had trash or treasure, tucked it away on a shelf of my own for a couple of years. As I was putting finishing touches on the Borg Lamp, and beginning to look for new galaxies to conquer, my eyes lit on the mystery lamp.
Paint remover (with nitrile gloves and respirator mask!) quickly give me a hint I had something extraordinary here. Days of tedious work with emery cloth, steel wool, buffing wheel followed, but well worth the effort! The gleaming stainless steel, with a host of brass and bronze fittings, was far more elegant that I’d ever hoped.
I still had no idea what this thing was, and I needed to know! I posted a query on a Coleman forum, and almost instantly got an answer – a plumber’s job site furnace for melting lead. A crucible would have sat atop the smelter.
This old iron wheel fit perfectly atop the furnace. It was also the right size for screwing in a plumbing fitting, once I’d tapped the hub.
Usually, I try to make sure that parts are attached both securely and elegantly. In this case, I settled for securely; three loops of baling wire, twisted tight, hold the wheel in place, and are tucked away out of sight.
I’ve got a lot of stuff simply lying around the studio, waiting for a home. This beautiful ribbed glass sphere was clearly meant for lighting. I obtained it as part of my original Steampunk buyout, and have no idea of the vintage.
I’m fascinated by bicycle parts (I did some growing up in Dayton, Ohio, where the Wright brothers had their bicycle shop before taking to the air!) This sprocket assembly turned out to be just the right size for mounting the lamp globe. Coming up with a system for fastening the globe required some fiddling. With input from a buddy at the plumbing supply house, I selected a set of aluminum U clamps, sawed them in half, and shaped them. These slip through slots in the sprocket, grip a ridge in the base of the globe, and form a friction fitting between the sprocket teeth, using machine screws and washers.
An unexpected delight of this contrivance is that the lamp globe spins with little effort, making that lovely bicycle gear sound!
This gauge was a two-time purchase. Learning to add an extra resistor to the internal circuitry of the gauge cost the life of the first gauge, which still looks pretty, but is only for show. I purchased its successor off ebay, and successfully gave it the resistorotomy it required. Turning the power knob, located beneath the UFO component, causes the dimmable LED bulb to brighten inside the glass globe, and the needle of the ammeter to rise along the display scale.
I set a requirement that a bare minimum amount of alteration be performed on this gauge. I managed the task of creating a zero-alteration mounting, using discs cut from a 1/8″ sheet of HDPE, assorted hardware, and plumbing fixtures.
The sequence of adding spacers and fasteners is show below. The 3″ floor flange connects cleanly with the rest of the lamp, and determines placement of the 4 stainless screw, which originate in one of the polyethylene discs. I cut these discs out of a 2×2 foot sheet, purchased from amazon, using a hand-held holesaw. I loved the outcome of this relatively time-consuming, but ultimately very satisfying exercise in on-the-fly engineering. This is when it really gets fun!
The other “arm” of the lamp is occupied with what I call the “UFO”. It’s actually an oversized Mexican sardine can, packed with an overbundance of electronics. This is something I very lovely crafted – designing as I went – into a wall-powered (internally through the lamp, of course!) 16-step LED sequencer. It’s fun to go back and look at this after-the-fact. It very clearly recalls to me the genesis of the 16-step music synthesizers which followed this project. That will be a subject for another post :). I think, in the service of getting this now-become-pretty-darn-long post out the door, I’m going to defer my detailed description of the internals of the UFO for a future missive.
But I will give a very brief description of the function of the UFO. I’ll also include a short video clip, so you can see it do some of its tricks. The 16 lights of the sequencer support chasing, all-pixel displays, and a variety of 1, 2, 4, and 8 and 16 pixel configurations. In the center of the control area (atop the can), a pointer knob allows the user to select from a dozen different light patterns. Each light pattern has its own unique assignment of the two three-position switches and two potentiometers, although many of the patterns use the right-most knob as a speed control, and/or the left-most knob as a color selector. The three-position switches control a variety of parameters such as number of active lights at any given time (1, 2, or 4 lights showing, for example), or direction of light movement (clockwise, counter-clockwise, and back-and-forth).
The casing of this little toy, which contains the dimmer for the main light (with knob underneath), has a solid brass faceplate with a wood-glass-and-brass-screws porthole, through which lit portions of the device’s microcircuitry can be viewed.
But I will give a very brief description of the function of the UFO. The 16 lights of the sequencer support chasing, all-pixel displays, and a variety of 1, 2, 4, and 8 and 16 pixel configurations. In the center of the control area (atop the can), a pointer knob allows the user to select from a dozen different light patterns. Each light pattern has its own unique assignment of the two three-position switches and two potentiometers, although many of the patterns use the right-most knob as a speed control, and/or the left-most knob as a color selector. The three-position switches control a variety of parameters such as number of active lights at any given time (1, 2, or 4 lights showing, for example), or direction of light movement (clockwise, counter-clockwise, and back-and-forth).
The casing of this little toy, which contains the dimmer for the main light (with knob underneath), has a solid brass faceplate with a wood-glass-and-brass-screws porthole, through which lit portions of the device’s microcircuitry can be viewed.
The completed lamp. And the final entry in my steampunk lamp series, completed just as I was preparing to dive down the ceramics + microelectronics rabbit hole, where I’m still in free fall!
I’m beyond delighted with this graduation exercise. My only regret is that there’s not enough hours of the day for me to get back to plugging a USB cable into the port at the side of the UFO, and developing a software upgrade to make the user controls even richer and easier to use! 😁
Thanks for the great article!
Glad you enjoyed it!
Thanks for the great article!