Self-taught sculptor exhibits wireworks to the public

A group of men mid-dance – some with legs kicked high in the air, others frozen with arms raised inside a circle  – all meticulously sculpted from thick metal wire. The lively scene is just one of many delicate works produced by 99-year-old Leo Schlisselberg.

Decades after crafting his final piece, the self-taught sculptor’s intricate works are on public display for the first time – and he’s lived nearly a century to see it. Guided by his imagination and an unshakeable faith, Schlisselberg transformed ordinary electrical wires into shimmering tapestries of biblical figures, architectural marvels and everyday life.

Born to Jewish parents in 1926 Germany, Schlisselberg’s childhood was steeped in religion. His father, a Polish World War I veteran and businessman, enrolled him in a Jewish day school. His mother, a devoted homemaker, lit the Shabbos candles every Friday night.  

Their blissful reality was abruptly shattered in January 1933, when Adolf Hitler was appointed chancellor. The Nazis established Dauchau nearly four months later – the first and longest operating concentration camp. Then came the boycotts of Jewish-owned businesses and shops.

“In 1934, my father said, ‘time to leave this country,’” Schlisselberg recalled. “It was brilliant that we [left] before Hitler did actually the real killings.”

He was eight years old when the family packed up and fled to modern-day Israel. They settled in Bnei Brak, a small town just east of Tel Aviv. At 15, Schlisselberg dropped out of school and joined the workforce.

Over the next decade, he met his wife and started a family, ultimately emigrating to the United States in 1960. New York City became their home. Schlisselberg found work in AT&T’s central office, running wires at the New York Telephone Exchange in downtown Manhattan.

But a devastating fire gutted the building in 1975 and Schlisselberg was reassigned to another division.

He recalled the job with fondness, describing it as “Heaven” or “The Garden of Eden,”  thanks to its light workload and ample downtime. But now, he needed something to keep himself occupied.

“I was sitting a long time and I cannot just read a book – it doesn’t look good,” Schlisselberg explained. “So I took wires and looked busy. I said, ‘what should I do with all this wire?’ Then something popped into my mind.”

He thought back to the story of the golden calf from the Book of Exodus. As the Israelites grew impatient waiting for Moses to descend from Mount Sinai, they turned to his brother Aaron, who melted down their gold jewelry and fashioned a golden calf. Moses was outraged by the idolatry, smashing the tablets bearing the Ten Commandments and condemning the Israelites for their betrayal.

It wasn’t long until Schlisselberg was regularly peeling away the wiring's bright red outer coating, exposing the metal strands beneath its surface. Inspired by his brother-in-law, a weekend fisherman, he twisted the strands into two figures – one standing, the other hunched over – each gripping a fishing rod. A wire “line” dangles, and a tiny knot at the end represents bait. The pair is perched atop a tree trunk slab, a signature element of his later works.

Looking back, Schlisselberg was unimpressed with the subject matter. 

Instead, he moved towards recreating scenes from the Hebrew Bible. He also sculpted the New York City skyline and a children’s playground reminiscent of Alexander Calder’s kinetic sculptures.

Calder, best known for inventing the mobile, had one of his most significant works culminate in a live performance featuring hand-operated wire figures in “Calder’s Circus” (1931.) Though Schlisselberg’s sculptures remain static, they share Calder’s elements of whimsy, playfulness and childlike joy.

Most of Schlisselberg’s works depict biblical scenes, encapsulating ancient stories through carefully woven narratives – and wires. His collection includes scenes like Jacob’s dream, with angels ascending and descending the ladder; Samson standing between the pillars before bringing them down; and David playing the harp. The king is described in an exhibition label as “sitting majestically, playing the harp. He was known for playing Psalms.”

His technique evolved over time. Early works were made with thick, heavy wire, while later sculptures featured fine, latticed strands. One of his most intricate pieces is a wire-frame house, with a fiddler sitting atop its roof, instrument in hand. Another depicts Adam and Eve, their hands cradling apples crafted from the red wire coating.

Schlisselberg lost his wire supplier when he left his job in 1990. But before exiting AT&T, he quietly took as much as he could with him.

He doesn't recall when his final sculpture was completed or what it depicted. When asked why he stopped creating, Schlisselberg’s answer was frank – “I ran out of wire.”

More than 30 of his wireworks are on display in the Hebrew Home, at 5901 Palisades Ave. Many were passed down to his children, who donated them for the exhibition. Others remain under the care of his daughter who lives in Israel.

“One time a woman asked me, ‘Leo will you take $5,000 [for one of your sculptures?]’” Schlisselberg noted. “I said, ‘even for $500,000 I will not give to you’, because I made it for my satisfaction.”