All About Balloonatics

It is 9:30 on a Saturday night. Hours ago, Michael Wiegand locked the door to his business and put up the closed sign.

Still, people walking by press their noses to the glass and stare wide-eyed at the art hanging in every window. The lights are blaring in his small store/workshop on the main street of Salida. Wiegand is working late again.

The potential customers - the ones smearing the windows - see Wiegand, wave their arms frantically and mouth the words: "Can we please come in?"

Wiegand sighs; he can read lips. He opens the door, they babble their thanks, go straight to the middle of the shop and crane their necks for a closer look at the replicas of hot air balloons.

Eyes raised, they talk to the ceiling, their index fingers punctuating the air; "Ohhh. Look at this one. No, did you see this one? How much for this one? Do you have another like this one?" In between questions they apologize for their rudeness. "We're from California . . . leaving tomorrow . . . won't be back . . . never seen anything like this . . ."

Balloonatics products are now being produced under the name Designs by Steve & Susie. Michael Wiegand trained them in his shop, and has transferred making these delightfuyl balloons to them in Missouri.

The products are copyrighted and patented with a federal tradename registry under Balloonatics.

There is a sort of "Who's Who List" as far as customers who order these, some having purchased 100 or more to give as gifts.

Some of our pieces are produced in solid gold, accented with gemstones.

Wiegand just nods. He's used to incursions now, after a year of crafting the balloon replicas for commercial sale.

"People come in, stand around for hours, holding the back of their necks, saying 'Geez, these are neat,'" says Wiegand, who has a soft heart for customers of Balloonatics Enterprises.

Sometimes the intricacy of the balloons' design causes people's jaws to drop, but mostly they are amazed at the materials that go into the process. His art objects are made of light bulbs - a large percentage of them burned out and destined for landfills - and common copper wire, often colorized to a gentle shade of blue.

The copper forms complicated patterns over the bulbs - each one different, each one handcrafted by Wiegand or one of his six employees. Sometimes, the glass is etched with acid to create patterns.

At other times, the bulb is painted. But not in the norma way. The image is placed on the inside of the bulb - to withstand dustings, washings, grimy fingerprints.

"You have to do it inside-out and backward,: says Toni Tischer, one of 11 artists working for Wiegand. "You almost have to be dyslexic."

Artists apply enamel paints with slivers of brushes that last only a couple of days. SOmetimes the images are so small and intricate that Tischer has used a series of dots to complete the design. "It's a lot like going back to kindergarten. you have to relearn your painting skills. But if you can conquer these light bulbs, you can do anything."

Much of their work is custom. Tischer, for instance, once copied a wallpaper pattern of playful bears onto a large light bulb that was a memento for a first child. Many people have requested portraits of spouses or favored pets. For a wedding memento, Wiegand inserted a rose from the bride's bouquet in the balloon.

He's even been asked to replicate real hot air balloons. "I tell them that we can match it exactly, right down to the mistakes."

It was by sheer accident that Wiegand, a jeweler, came up with the idea. A broken bulb reminded him of hot air balloons he had seen at a rally; he decided to make family Christmas ornaments. "People would come over, and want them. So I hung them in my shop; they were gone immediately."

Friends began saving "dead bulbs," but Wiegand could not keep up with demand. Then a representative of General Electric saw his creations. The company helped Wiegand find different bulb sizes, and promised him he "would never want for bulbs again." In return, he keeps the company supplied with decorated bulbs, inscribed with GE, for gifts.

While Wiegand is proud he's "not producing oil slicks," he has other reasons for making the balloons. "They represent freedom that nothing else holds, a freedom that is hard to find."

Customers have said they consider the tiny balloons to be little Tiffany's - a comment that makes Wiegand blush. "I don't think I'm quite that but it's a great compliment."