£275.00
1 in stock
Spragbert began life as an antique loom shuttle, finished in gloss black using the Japanese method of shou sugi ban, a process that strengthens wood by charring it first. That matters. Because Spragbert is, at his core, proof that what has been through fire often lasts the longest. The blackened finish isn’t for show; it’s protection, resilience, and quiet confidence polished to a shine.
Loom shuttles understand rhythm. They move back and forth so fabric can exist at all. But Spragbert chose a different lesson: take the strength, keep the craft, and then go forward.
His engine, a thoughtful collision of an RC exhaust, a helicopter hydraulic filter, and aircraft engine bolts arranged in a proud V8 configuration, doesn’t shout. It works. Purposefully. Like something built by someone who knows that reliability always outlasts noise.
The exhaust, made from used pipe fittings, has already lived a life. It doesn’t pretend otherwise. Spragbert values things that have earned their scars, because experience, much like patina, can’t be faked.
Then there are the wheels.
Crafted from scrap helicopter freewheel sprags, with vintage mahogany centres, Meccano brass wheel discs, and secured with unapologetic wing nuts. Sprags only turn one way. Forward. No rolling back. No undoing. Spragbert physically cannot go backwards, which suits his outlook on life just fine.
His headlights, made from coaxial connectors with a small torch bulb nestled inside, don’t blaze the trail, they simply make sure the next step is visible. Spragbert believes that’s enough.
The steering wheel, a pre-Second World War Meccano original, connects him to a time when engineering was honest, materials were respected, and nothing was wasted without good reason.
At the rear sits a luggage rack carrying a rusty antique tin box, held firm with a vintage leather strap. Inside? Tools, memories, spare bolts, or carefully folded optimism, Spragbert doesn’t overshare.
Driving him is a Bert with real skill. His body, made from an old soldering iron, understands how things truly come together, with heat, patience, and intention. His head, a late-1940s Coronet Cameo sub-miniature camera, made from early thermoplastic (definitely not Bakelite), means he notices everything. One eye is the camera. The other, a vintage range finder, keeps perspective, judging distance, timing, and when not to rush.
His copper wire eyebrows are permanently raised in thoughtful curiosity, and his arms, built from remote-control car parts, suggest he’s always known how to respond, but only to guidance worth following.
Spragbert isn’t flashy.
He doesn’t race.
He doesn’t reverse.
He moves forward, strengthened by fire, shaped by experience, and held together with purpose.
Built from scrap.
Powered by resilience.
Finished in fire and gloss.
Vital Statistics: length 45cms width 17.5cms height 14cms weight 2.25kg
£275.00
1 in stock
Spragbert began life as an antique loom shuttle, finished in gloss black using the Japanese method of shou sugi ban, a process that strengthens wood by charring it first. That matters. Because Spragbert is, at his core, proof that what has been through fire often lasts the longest. The blackened finish isn’t for show; it’s protection, resilience, and quiet confidence polished to a shine.
Loom shuttles understand rhythm. They move back and forth so fabric can exist at all. But Spragbert chose a different lesson: take the strength, keep the craft, and then go forward.
His engine, a thoughtful collision of an RC exhaust, a helicopter hydraulic filter, and aircraft engine bolts arranged in a proud V8 configuration, doesn’t shout. It works. Purposefully. Like something built by someone who knows that reliability always outlasts noise.
The exhaust, made from used pipe fittings, has already lived a life. It doesn’t pretend otherwise. Spragbert values things that have earned their scars, because experience, much like patina, can’t be faked.
Then there are the wheels.
Crafted from scrap helicopter freewheel sprags, with vintage mahogany centres, Meccano brass wheel discs, and secured with unapologetic wing nuts. Sprags only turn one way. Forward. No rolling back. No undoing. Spragbert physically cannot go backwards, which suits his outlook on life just fine.
His headlights, made from coaxial connectors with a small torch bulb nestled inside, don’t blaze the trail, they simply make sure the next step is visible. Spragbert believes that’s enough.
The steering wheel, a pre-Second World War Meccano original, connects him to a time when engineering was honest, materials were respected, and nothing was wasted without good reason.
At the rear sits a luggage rack carrying a rusty antique tin box, held firm with a vintage leather strap. Inside? Tools, memories, spare bolts, or carefully folded optimism, Spragbert doesn’t overshare.
Driving him is a Bert with real skill. His body, made from an old soldering iron, understands how things truly come together, with heat, patience, and intention. His head, a late-1940s Coronet Cameo sub-miniature camera, made from early thermoplastic (definitely not Bakelite), means he notices everything. One eye is the camera. The other, a vintage range finder, keeps perspective, judging distance, timing, and when not to rush.
His copper wire eyebrows are permanently raised in thoughtful curiosity, and his arms, built from remote-control car parts, suggest he’s always known how to respond, but only to guidance worth following.
Spragbert isn’t flashy.
He doesn’t race.
He doesn’t reverse.
He moves forward, strengthened by fire, shaped by experience, and held together with purpose.
Built from scrap.
Powered by resilience.
Finished in fire and gloss.
Vital Statistics: length 45cms width 17.5cms height 14cms weight 2.25kg
Take Note
Our Bert robot sculptures are playful works of art, lovingly crafted from recycled scrap materials. Designed for adults who want to reconnect with their inner child, these unique pieces are meant to bring joy and imagination into your space. Please note that they’re not suitable for children.
