A 1950s aerospace caliper transformed into a globe armature in the hands of a talented metalsmith. The books on American Black History were the right color, and the right subject, to form the first globe in what was to turn into the 100 Worlds Project.

Photographer: Ken West

I was one of those kids who played with the packaging more than the toy. Super strength corrugated cardboard became the base. A repainting of the continents from memory became the globe.

Photographer: Cameron Okamoto

Books are worlds in and of themselves. In this globe, books are used as both heavy and wood-like, as well as a light and breathable, almost transparent, material.

Photographer:  Jose Alonso

The interesting part of #4 is how the exterior frame bends to accommodate the colliding earths; it appears quite normal to have a miniature lobe attached down there in the southern hemisphere.

Photographer:  John Durant

Wooden cigar boxes carry with them the handwork, exotic smells and hand rolled cargo of Central America. The oval sphere is formed from dozens of dismantled cigar boxes. The exterior is shaped from maple plywood. The base is a welded steel I-beam.

Photographer: Chris Wimpey

Globe #6 evolves from the random patterns, product logos and raw colors of dumpster-bound cartons. The most obscure of objects proudly assume their new role.

Photographer: Chris Park

An image of the world is universally recognizable to everyone, but virtually no one has ever seen it in person. #7 plays games with our trusted symbol of home.

Photographer: Marcelle Romeo

A bright yellow 'DIVIDED HIGHWAY AHEAD' barricade sign, stainless steel cable, thin maple veneer and a sand casted aluminum base join together to comprise globe #8. Foreign, unrelated objects reorient themselves in new symbolism.

Photographer: Sean Cassidy

Cables of copper and steel thread themselves through a septum of mahogany wood. Like orbital pathways, the cables define the outer boundaries of their constellation.

Photographer: David Harrison

Four shop hand-brushes are screwed together - bristles trimmed neatly - and balanced on a blood red wooden foundry form. A plumb-bob tip defines the center of this precarious microcosm.

Photographer: Kathryn Szalay

A moss-covered dome provides a posting wall for unclear messages and random images.

Photographer:  Mike Smith

I remember putting my finger down on my globe as a kid and wondering if the people living there might be able to sense it. #12 serves as a valiant attempt to combat the threat of obscurity caused by the likes of GPS and Google Maps.

Photographer: Gavin Filipiak

An aluminum highway sign becomes the thin suspension frame for a sphere of tangled, yet orderly, electrical wiring.

Photographer: Cameron Okamoto

This wooden box was once home to the mass of art supplies needed by a curious 10 year old. It traveled a long and windy road to be reborn as #14.

Photographer: Karen Morrison

Heavy rusted plate steel surrounds a free-floating stainless steel orb.

Photographer: Luis Garcia

We make great assumptions about content from form. This piece is propped up by timbers and sticks with an infrastructure held tenuously together by bailing wire and tacks - like a fake western storefront.

Photographer: Nick Nacca

#17 has handwritten comments and messages etched into the collar. The base is laser cut masonite. The globe itself I bought from artist and friend, Aaron Kramer, who made it from metal street sweeper brush bristles.

Photographer: Garrett Patz

When welder Seth Collins offered me his worn saw blade he said, “ I think there’s one of your worlds wound up tight in here.” It found its new place sitting in the middle of a wood foundry-form from a Johnson City Tennessee Foundry.

Photographer: Marshall Williams

I’m amazed at the beauty of type when it’s in the hands of an expert. These old letterforms were all made by hand. When my friend, Simon Ritchkin, uncovered a box of wooden letterforms in a brocante in France, I knew we had just made a globe together. A wood handle pipe wrench proudly does its new job.

Photographer: Tracy Meiners

I find it interesting how different the feel of #20, made from mahogany wood, is from #15, the plate steel version of the same design.

Photographer: Tom Greer

Books about geography were ground and reshaped into a topographic model; a landing place for several globes of dubious origins.

Photographer: Frank Rogozienski

The armature of #22 is made from a classic bicycle lug. Laser cut chainring gears form the contour of the sphere. The head tube artwork is 19th century cloisonné from a bicycle manufacturer in southern France.

Photographer: Leo Malevanchik

Having photographers interpret the 100WP works has been such a joy and a gift. John Trice created a landscape of delicate dandelion forms from #23, a shattered and fractured world globe.

Photographer: John Trice

Why had I been keeping a Canadian 5-pin bowling ball, a plumb bob and a gear chase I found at the Black Hole in New Mexico? Quite obviously, to unite years later as #24.

Photographer: Paul Body

The Sherwin Williams Paint “Cover the Earth” logo became a reality in 2010 when the Gulf of Mexico was coated and suffocated in oil. The base of this piece is laser cut and engraved. Black rubber stretches taut across the horizon and anchors itself to levels below the surface.

Photographer: Chris Wimpey

#26 is made from dozens of coffee shop spoons and a lattice of short steel rods. The base is sand cast aluminum. I see an orbiting satellite or a TD 2 tower or …

Photographer: Paul Body

I've always like the strong industrial shapes formed by cast iron tubing joints that are bolted together. That was behind the sketch that eventually lead to #28.

Photographer: Tsukuru Matsumura

An organic bone-like structure has vertical incisions that hold a series of organically shaped fins.

Photographer: Cameron Okamoto

The birch branch “nest” was one of the earliest globe structures in the series, yet it took the longest to find its resting place as a finished piece.

Photographer: Cera Zittlow

There is energy when elements that were seemingly never meant to find each other unite seamlessly as one. This aerospace nose cone seemed to be waiting decades for the arrival of its analog – a forgotten globe from a Massachusetts cellar.

Photographer: John Trice

Much like a map of the world would sit behind the desk of a company president in the 50s, suggesting the potential of their market, this series of four introduce additional complexity and confusion into that once simple and inspirational world motif. #1 of 4

Photographer: Cameron Okamoto

Discarded wheels, disks and machine parts assume a different role as rings in a new rotating universe.

Photographer: John Trice

Much like a map of the world would sit behind the desk of a company president in the 50s, suggesting the potential of their market, this series of four introduce additional complexity and confusion into that once simple and inspirational world motif. #2 of 4

Photographer: Mark Dastrup

Much like a map of the world would sit behind the desk of a company president in the 50s, suggesting the potential of their market, this series of four introduce additional complexity and confusion into that once simple and inspirational world motif. #3 of 4

Photographer: Mark Dastrup

Much like a map of the world would sit behind the desk of a company president in the 50s, suggesting the potential of their market, this series of four introduce additional complexity and confusion into that once simple and inspirational world motif. #4 of 4

Photographer: Mark Dastrup

Surprising how many tool handles there are in odd corners of the world. Each one carries a story on the handle with markings of wear from the tasks they’ve done and the hands that did them.

Photographer: Stacy Keck

This 1930s hand painted metal globe likely served to inspire employees in some corporate lobby. Now it sits atop a computer laser cut foundation, like Atlas Gemini, ready to relaunch.

Photographer: John Trice

I started to see worlds waiting for me everywhere. This world was hidden in the backs of two wooden bar chairs.

Photographer: Philipp Rittermann

I was having coffee and sketching ideas at Rebecca’s in North Park when I spotted a wall of old board games behind me; all full of exaggerated color and type. #39 was instantly down as a sketch and came alive exactly like it was drawn.

Photographer: Gary Allard

I tried to dig to China from my backyard in New Jersey when I was about seven years old. The devil, the cave, the core, the fire, the truth, the failed, the garden, the smoke, the spirits, the steam, the riches. What was beneath those shallow roots?

Photographer: Philipp Rittermann

My friend, automobile designer Chuck Pelly parted with his propeller so I could make #41. The base is an industrial shock absorber I carried back from Italy in a very suspicious carry-on.

Photographer: Mark Dastrup

Anne Miriello had the patience (and three pencil sharpeners) to sharpen boxes of uniform pencils into #43.

Photographer: Paul Body

A vertical totem collage of spheres destined to be skewered together in a new configuration; sort of like a table of strangers who share a wonderful endless meal together.

A dozen leather shoe soles take on their new role as storytellers. Shoes were disassembled and soles reattached with shoemaker nails to an orb of poplar wood. Tap dancers, businessmen, preachers and streetwalkers share their new life together.

Photographer: Carl Vanderschuit

I saw a world encased in a wind swept cocoon appearing in my sketch book. It reminded me of the work of Luigi Colani, a futuristic industrial designer from Switzerland.

Photographer: Cameron Okamoto

Burning out of its confines, a manzanita branch has no boundaries.

Photographer: Aaron Serafino

Jagged spires of Brett Hassler veneered mahogany form a cathedral for a nesting sphere. The pattern cut into the spires was inspired by the design formed in the interlocking structure of microscopic bones.

Photographer: Monica Hoover

A graphic representation of the divisive statement of the former leader of the free world.

Photographer: Tom Holmberg

Aluminum rods, like long hidden stalactites, reveal themselves from inside a calcified half globe.

I remember seeing what looked to me like orange peels of the world behind the head of Walter Cronkite as he read the news during the Vietnam war. Those shapes, called gores, reappear in my drawing book repeatedly.

Photographer: Tom Holmberg