10 books I can’t live without

I love books, art and design. I can take root in a bookstore, losing many hours randomly browsing the shelves — and a good, used bookstore with a coffee bar is my idea of heaven on earth. I often rescue old books on esoteric topics to save them from destruction, give them a home, or just because they might help me someday.

Books don’t boss, direct or dictate like a person would. They gently show. Or they tell. Reading calms me, centers my mind and helps me move forward when I reach a place on the road where I don’t know what to do next. I often turn to my books for random guidance; just pulling something off the shelf to see what wisdom is there inside, no matter the topic. The act of opening a book and drawing in information helps me to clear away conflict in my head and find a direction. So I guess it is a good thing I work in publishing, even though that field is changing at the speed of a data stream. In my mind, there is still a place for books and printed information, because the learning experience is radically different when you hold an object — like a book — in your hands to draw in information with all of your senses at the same time.

To me, that is the information that sticks — because I can associate it with a moment in time where I saw the words and images, held the weight of that book in my hands, heard the authors words in my head and felt the passing of time as I absorbed the knowledge between the covers. It is hard to choose my “Favorite” books, because I am constantly moving, growing and living, and what I love now is different from what I loved before. However, these are perennial favorites I recommend to students and friends who ask. Some are old or out of print, which is a shame, but all of them are an inspiration to me.

1. Practical Jewelry Making, By Fritz Loosli, Herbert Merz and Alex Schaffner, Ubos/Scriptar, ISBN 2-88012-040-3. When I am blocked at the bench, I pull this book out and do some of the exercises in it.

2. Modernist Jewelry 1930-1960 The Wearable Art Movement, By Marbeth Schon, Schiffer Publishing, ISBN 0-7643-2020-3. This book is an unbelievable and inspirational review of the blossoming of artisan jewelry in the US.

3. Foldforming, By Charles Lewton-Brain, Brynmorgen Press, ISBN 978-1-929565-26-9. Groundbreaking, brilliant work by one of the most important makers of our time.

4. David Smith Sculpture and Drawings, edited by Jorn Merkert, Prestel-Verlag, ISBN 3-7913-0793-2. David Smith is a master of space, and I enjoy reading his letters and essays.

5. Design Through Discovery, by Marjorie Elliot Bevlin, Holt- Rinehart and Winston, ISBN 0-03-089701-7. A textbook from my art school days that has survived repeated purges of the book shelves.

6. Jewelry of Our Time,  Art, Ornament and Obsession, By Helen Drutt English and Peter Dormer, Rizzoli, ISBN 0-8478-1914-0. Anyone interested in owning or making studio jewelry should own this book.

7. Jewelry Concepts and Technology, By Oppi Untracht, Doubleday and Company, ISBN 0-385-04185-3. Own it. Read it. Live it.

8. Silversmithing, By Rupert Finegold and William Seitz, Krause Publications, ISBN 0-8019-7232-9. Every member of the cult of the hammer and anvil needs a copy of this book. It is our manual.

9.  Creative Stonesetting, By John Cogswell, Brynmorgen Press, ISBN978-1-929565-22-1. A brilliant compendium of the most challenging technical work of our craft.

10. Art Jewelry Today – Volumes 1, 2 and 3 – Dona Z. Meilach, or Jeffrey B. Snyder, Schiffer Publishing, Ltd. ISBN 0-7643-1766-0; ISBN 978-0-7643-3065-0; ISBN 978-0-7643-3883-0. Browsing these volumes is like going to a museum with a fantastic collection of important works in studio jewelry.

There is one more book to read. Really read. At least once a year — in the summer on the beach or in a hammock somewhere where you can hear birds, wind or surf and feel the sun on your skin. In a quiet natural place far from the buzz of the modern world. So you absorb it with all of your senses and remember what it means.

Fahrenheit 451, By Ray Bradbury. A Del Ray Book — 1953.
ISBN 0-345-29234-0.

 

 

 

 

 

Restoring normalcy

It was great to head out to the Tucson Gem and Mineral Plus Shows just after finishing the heavy lifting of getting most of my book completed — well, virtually completed — because the mental and physical break of being somewhere different allowed me to slip gently back into my “normal” life and routine.
The funny thing is, I feel like a stranger in it.
In Tucson, I made my regular contacts, found some new tools to write about, taught some classes, found some gorgeous new rock to cut into, and met up with friends and colleagues I haven’t seen since, well, last Tucson. But as I went from show to show, I experienced a strange sense of detachment to everything normal — mostly because the huge project that has consumed me for a year is gone now.
It was truly a strange feeling to not have to think about that content anymore, and now that it is gone, I realize just how much of my life it took up. The great thing is, even though I was sleeping in a hotel far from home, I clocked at least 9+ uninterrupted hours per night — something I haven’t done since I started writing the book last winter. I have a habit of waking in the night to deal with whatever is on my plate, and writing a book is like an endless buffet — there are just too many plates. Let me tell you, sleep is a good thing. Because, each day, I felt better, stronger and more “me”.
The experience of writing this book has taught me something valuable about long term projects and what they can do to your “normal” life. I am very proud of the work I did, and as I read some of the in-progress edits of my work, I don’t remember the experience of writing those words so long ago. What I do remember is the constant pull of the content, the desire for it to be good, as perfect as I could make it in the time I had to produce it, the intense focus required of a complex project and the hope that someone out there would value it once it became an actual thing you could hold in your hands.

Some sweet Hornitas Jasper at Tucson Electric Park.

In a way, this book writing experience was like parenthood — you pour lots of effort and hope into something and eventually you must let it go its own way in the world. At that moment, you stand there alone, unburdened, and wondering what you are supposed to do next. So, in Tucson, I bought some rock. I walked around alone and thinking and I made a very simple plan.
I spent this past weekend cutting some stones, and I made some sketches of what I want to make — now that I don’t have an agenda or the expectations of anyone but me for my work again. No agenda is good. Because I can remember this strange state of “normal” once again.

Today’s tip: Use your phone camera to take “notes” when you are at a gem show. I clicked off shots of the names and localities of much of the cutting rough I purchased in Tucson, so I didn’t have to write notes with wet and dirty fingers after grubbing around in slab bins.

Reaching goals

I am the queen of ziplock-sorted prep.
This is the book map, unedited manuscript and all of the materials for book Part One…

Progress on the production of  The Jewelry Maker’s Field Guide: Tools and Essential Techniques goes well; my editorial colleagues in the book division and photographer Jim Lawson have been cranking non-stop right along with me since the new year began. Creating a book with such complex subject matter and so many moving parts is a huge undertaking: I often vacillate between unbridled enthusiasm for this thing I am taking part in the making of, and abject despair over my own stupidity thinking I would have the time and energy to get it done.
But this post is about my friend, photographer Jim Lawson. He is an ace, super talented, soft-spoken and rock solid. He must be an earth sign, because unlike me, I never see him overflow or fly off (water and air, scary combo) and, Jim is so reliable that knowing he is shooting my stuff has removed 88% of the stress I was feeling way back at the start of this whole process. Like several of my content-producing colleagues at the office, he too has created DVD content of tremendous use to anybody trying to market/sell/get exposure for/exhibit their artwork on that wild frontier known as the internet.

This is Jim at work on some of the photos for the first few parts of my book.

The other cool thing about this entire bookmaking process is that the two of us have clocked so much time in each others studios that we could (and should) collaborate on something else. We have discussed and toyed with a few notions as we’ve been working, so more on that later. Right now, I’m going to start reciprocating Jim’s hard work on my behalf by unabashedly plugging his work. If you have the slightest interest in making photos of your jewelry work (or of anything for that matter) go check out his instructional DVDs. He. Totally. Rocks.
Links below.

Purchase Digital download or physical DVDs:

http://www.interweavestore.com/store/Search.aspx?SearchTerms=jim%20lawson

To see Jim’s awesome jewelry photography (you should be reading Lapidary Journal Jewelry Artist) visit: http://www.jamesnlawson.com/ and his regular photos: http://jimlawsonfoto.com/

So, go! And, tell Jim I sent you.

Jewelrymaking on a deserted (almost) island

Yes, it is possible to make jewelry on a Pacific island. I just found a goldsmith here on Santa Cruz Island, Galapagos, and plan to speak to her in depth later in the week. Especially about how she keeps her beautiful rolling mill pristine and rust free during the rainy season, when I can’t do that without lots and lots of work — in the temperate zone!
More to come soon. Keep your fingers crossed everybody — maybe I can get my boss interested in a story about the trials and tribulations of metalsmithing in paradise. Hmmm…

Head above the water

This weekend is the first one I have had free — relatively speaking — since mid-May. It is amazing to see the light at the end of the tunnel when you have been in it for so long you forget what daylight is like. I am 2 objects away from done on the book, I’ve got most of my teacher proposals and paperwork in the can for 2013, and all of my Cool Tools & Hip Tips columns for this year and most of next year have been either written, filed or settled on. Can somebody say, “Whew?”

I haven’t seen my friends or family except for absolute dire necessities for almost 9 months. No dance classes, no workshops, no gym, no vacation, no fun, no nothing but work for 24/7. Boy am I tired! But now that there is light streaming into the tunnel, I can finally reflect on what I have finished this year, and all I can say is I have no clue how I managed to get it all done.

So here is the scoop on the fruits of all this labor: The Jewelry Maker’s Field Guide: Tools and Essential Techniques book is in the design/photography/editing phase and is scheduled to be out around this time next year. I will be filming my 6th Metalsmith Essentials DVD: Spirals, Tubes and Serpentine Forms in late April, and I am already scheduled to teach at workshops in Tucson, Arizona in February, and Pennsylvania in April and probably August. My Cool Tools & Hip Tips columns promise to get you involved creating content too in 2013, so stand by.

I will post more here as I know more, and thanks for hanging in there with me.

PS: You know, there is something to be said for a long weekend of bad junk food and crappy, tacky 1960s horror movies after a long, long, long hard period of seemingly endless work…

When it rains, it pours

I am always amazed at the ebb and flow of work. Why is it you are either so busy you want to tear your hair out or so busy you almost want to tear your hair out? So, whatever happened to “down time?” I often wish I had a few open days to reflect on something I have just completed before the next onslaught arrives, but these days it is a constant deluge of work, stuff, life.

Last weekend, I taught a fun workshop on Textures and Patinas for the 20th anniversary conference of the Enamel Guild’s Northeast chapter at the beautiful Newark Museum arts workshop metals studio. I have been creating samples, demos and handouts for weeks to expand and clearly document the information I briefly covered during the filming of my third DVD on the same topic. We all had a great time, it was an incredible conference, and I am honored to have been invited to teach. For the past few days I have been following up with extra information, paperwork and correspondence with my students and the new friends I made, in addition to the regular workload of my day job. I am inspired to make something new — but I don’t have any time at the moment.

I was just assigned a really fun story to cover in the November issue, I have several ongoing monthly writing assignments, this blog, Facebook contacts, a Twitter feed, and a June workshop to plan for. There is also my son’s end-of-term performance to attend, the garden is screaming for attention, and I have 2 things on the bench I really want to be done with so I can make some new work. And, I also have a complex, long term, very important and dear to my heart project — which is on my mind and consuming every waking moment. I can’t let go of it for even a second or it will break my concentration.

If I expect to teach next year, I had better whip out a few pieces, have them photographed and write and submit my proposals in the next week or two or I will miss the window of opportunity. There are kits to prep, pickups to make and tools to test for the work and classes I am scheduled to do and teach on the near horizon. And if I don’t sit down and write out bills soon I will be in deep doo doo.

Ay jai jai.

I’d love to have a week off to think about what I have just accomplished, but I can’t have that now. I have to wait for it. But I am certain when I do get my vacation it will be oh, so sweet. Until then, pass the umbrella, please — because it is a monsoon!

Finish What You Start

Very often, I get about halfway through something I am making and decide I absolutely loathe it. Usually at that point, I put the offending object on my bench in disgust and walk away from it for a while. It is uncanny how often I get just to the point of frustration or fear or boredom and I stop working. But this year, I am determined to go forward when that happens, even though I want to stop. Because everything I have read and seen and understood about creativity in recent weeks tells me that this is the thing to do. When every fiber of your being is telling you to stop, you must keep at it and finish. It is very difficult to do, but you must.

Because, creativity can only happen if you show up for work.

So, I have 4 half finished objects on my bench now at various stages of stall. There is a pendant I like, but there is one problem area in the reticulation I am in a quandary over, and I am not sure how to proceed with it. The next piece I am a little ticked over, because I snapped the cabochon I was polishing for it about 2 seconds before I was ready to drop it in the setting and I could kick myself for fussing over it, because now I have to cut another stone, and none of the material I have is quite as nice as the original. Then, there is that textured copper piece with the surface folds, but I haven’t really resolved the way I want to drill and attach the stone to that one in a way I am pleased with. And last, but certainly not least, is the ring I fabricated to showcase some glass beads I made myself, but I want to replicate the design in a different metal. And, I hate to do it again, but I know I won’t wear it unless I make it in silver.

Of course, it is so easy to avoid those things I have to finish, but this time I am determined not to. Even though paperwork, and cleaning and laundry, the garden and cooking and all those other things are there to divert my attention, I will not abandon those four projects. I can’t. Because I will let myself down if I do, and I refuse to let myself down, even if I end up sitting at my bench all day tomorrow staring at them like a child in a dark dining room in front of a cold plate of brussels sprouts their mother is forcing them to eat. I will finish them if it kills me. Because my reward may not be a piece of finished jewelry I like, but it will be something way more important. Belief in myself. And, in my world, that is a far greater reward than any finished object that I like or don’t like.

Stretching my boundaries

This weekend I just completed one of those inevitable “favor projects” that come your way more and more often when people find out you are a jeweler. But this one was different. This one was a turning point for my confidence, plus it gave me several ideas for some work I would like to make because of what I accomplished doing a favor for someone else. Nice.

So far I have done about 10 repairs this year. Everything from patching a strip of silver onto the inside of an over stressed cuff bracelet that had cracked, to sizing down a 10K gold ring with the stone left in place. Every repair that comes my way sends a tremor of fear down my spine because I dread the unanticipated mishap that might cause me to turn someone’s treasured jewelry object into a molten puddle. Luckily, I haven’t done this yet.

The cool thing about these little side jobs is that they give me a chance to challenge myself in ways that I like. Because, there are challenges that make you grow as a person, and there are challenges that are just a big fat pain in the butt. I do my best to steer clear of the latter, but sometimes they are unavoidable. Anyway, back to the latest project.

What made this project so cool was the thought behind it, the meaning of it, and the symbolic gesture it would become once I completed my part of the deal. A talented and creative friend of my son’s asked me to saw an antique silver serpent ring in half so he could present half to his beloved for her birthday on Friday. A relatively easy job of anneal, flatten, cut, anneal and coil again. But, what made it cool was that I sawed the serpent in half down the length of its spine — which created two separate snakes that could be worn together as one — or worn as two rings by two people who have to spend time apart, but are as interconnected as that snake originally was. As I cut that little reptile in half, it set my imagination on fire.

I put the package in the mail yesterday with a big smile on my face. Because now I have 3 pages of ideas I have sketched out due to the concept of that little ring. I can’t wait to get to my bench this weekend. Best of all, I can buy some metal with the fee I received for doing the job. Double nice.

Thank you for your hard work

Every month, I spend a few hours on the weekend creating a kid’s page with science, anthropology, nature or history as the main theme. It is a small freelance gig I have done with a dear friend for many years, and the page is syndicated and published by what remaining small newspapers are left in north America. I certainly don’t do it for money, because there isn’t much of that left for content creators in the publishing business. You see, producers are on the bottom of the food chain. Sometimes, the time I spend on this work is many hours more than I am paid for. No matter. Because, I do it for the love of the topic, my love of drawing, my love of teaching, and for the idealistic hope that a child somewhere will be inspired to care about animals, plants, other people, and places beyond their own after reading what I wrote or seeing the artwork I have made.

Every year at this time, I get a hand written note from my friend, with my tax forms, and a small book, box of tea, chocolate bar, card or picture she has painted for me — to say thank you for sticking with her, believing in the project and carrying on despite the very small financial reward for doing so.

Thank you for your hard work. It is amazing how 6 words can hold so much power.

In my regular job this week, I spent many, many hours contacting brilliantly talented artists to request images for a special project I am contributing work toward for the 65th Anniversary Issue of Lapidary Journal. I have had long phone conversations and email exchanges with the most talented artists creating modern studio jewelry today. The most gratifying thing that has come from these exchanges is the number of times those artists have thanked me for my hard work. They have thanked me for being serious, respectful to the craft, and genuinely interested in the good of the work. They have thanked me for defending excellence, and doing my best to push for excellence over mediocrity. Many have told me that they knew that something had changed for the better in my publication starting around the time that I took my job there. Many times this week, I cried from the gratitude I felt after hanging up the phone.

Having that kind of exchange with a talented person you respect and admire is like food to a starving person. It goes a long way toward repairing the terrible, terrible accumulation of damage that can be dealt by working for huge corporate machines or their minions. It can heal the betrayals, snake bites and greedy carelessness that can be inflicted by egoists, hustlers, climbers and liars over the course of a career… And, it means the world to me.

So, now it is my turn. Because of those six words, I have an abundance of power today. I don’t have space here to thank everyone, but you know who you are. Thank you for caring about me and what I do. Thanks for taking the time to talk to me this week and last. And, here are a few specific thank you messages I must document here and now for everyone to see. Because what was given to me this week through your words or the beauty of your work has sustained me.

Michael Boyd, thank you for your hard work. Thank you for the art school discussions we have had at all hours of the day and night. Thank you for the scrabble games. Thank you for the coffee. Thank you for my birthday party, and thank you for teaching me how to cut rock. Thank you for encouraging me. Thank you for freely giving me what you have without a care for what you might get out of it. Thank you for being my brother.

Harold O’Connor, thank you for your hard work. Thanks for your dedicated and driven effort to create a huge, important and beautiful body of work. Thank you for teaching me about the solitary path of focused dedication.

Michael Good, thank you for your hard work. Thank you for changing the way I think about the world, life and the universe. Thank you for giving me the love of the hammer. Thank you for reminding me not to think — more often than how to think.

Linda Kindler Priest, Carolyn Morris Bach, John Iversen and Jim Kelso, thank you for your hard work. Thank you for the quiet beauty you bring to this world. Thank you for showing deep love and respect for nature with your art.

Tom Herman, Michael Zobel, Paula Crevoshay, Judith Kaufman, Judith Kinghorn, Barbara Heinrich and Pat Flynn, thank you for your hard work. Thank you for honoring color, design, metal and stone.

Namu Cho, Valentin Yotkov, Charles Lewton Brain, Mary Lee Hu, John Paul Miller and Tom Munsteiner, thank you for your hard work. Thank you for your dedication and focus on the development of a technique and bringing it to the highest form of beauty humanly possible.

And to everyone else I connected with this week, thank you for your hard work. You bring beauty to this world. It is what we need more than anything. Thank you.

Designing jewelry around a theme

I truly believe that your inner and outer worlds will try to reach an accord. It is the human condition to strive to understand. I also believe that if you are strong and reasonably stable, it is easy to convey something about your thoughts and feelings with your work — if that is the kind of work you want to make.

I created this to explore the concept of time. I have been sorting through time, objects and connections for about one year in an effort to determine what is essential to my life. Photo: Jim Lawson

Jewelry is an interesting medium, because there are so many things it does and represents — just think of all the levels of complexity surrounding the wearing of  a jewelry object. It can be symbolic and/or decorative, both personal and public, a display of tremendous wealth, status or modest means, “beautiful” or “ugly”, crude or refined, a gift, a commemorative item, a statement, an identifier, a memory, a connection to someone or some place — or not.

So, a particular piece of jewelry can mean very different things to different people, depending on who they are, how they feel and what they think about it. There is an accord between the wearer and the work. That accord is based in their feeling about that particular jewelry object.

What is interesting about making jewelry as a form of self-expression is that there are also many levels of complexity to contend with. When you make a piece of jewelry, what are you doing, really?

Do you ask yourself questions before you start working, or do you just go forward? What pushes you to create? How many minute decisions do you make before you touch your materials? Are you saying something? Solving a challenge? Matching an outfit? Stretching your skill set? Making a gift? Using a different tool for a change? Trying something you just learned? Copying something you like? Killing time by tinkering? Hiding from something else by going to the bench? Practicing? Losing track of everything in the sheer joy of making? Earning a living? Breaking new ground? Making something to sell in next weekend’s show? Filling an empty space? Trying to prove something? What?

There is no “correct” answer to my questions, so don’t worry. The only answer is the one you decide is correct. And it can be a different one every time you go to the bench.

For me, making jewelry is a way to show what I cannot say. I work in bursts, and I typically follow a path that in hindsight is logical, but in the moment of doing may not have any sense. There are themes I follow constantly, and I am driven to explore them. I will always challenge myself to solve a particular physical problem inherent to an object — like holding a stone or making a shape or a color or a line in a specific way that is visually appealing to me. But, at the same time, I am urged by my mind and feelings to “say” something with that work — even if it is just to myself.

You see, I don’t have any expectations from what I make, because I’m not trying to convince anyone to buy it or even like it. I don’t need to prove anything to anyone with what I make. My sense of self-worth is not connected to what others might think of me, or selling jewelry, or anything like that. I earn money doing other things that I am much better at, and I really don’t care too much about an object once I make it, because ultimately it is just a thing. I make jewelry to explore an inner urging that I must uncover and experience in order to grow and understand living here and now in this place.

That said, making jewelry objects is an utterly enjoyable process that I will not try to justify. I do it for love. I do it because I must — my hands need to make, and metal and stone are fascinating to me. I love the difficulty of this craft because it feeds my mind and my heart.

Why do you do it?