By Julia Harrison

Vitrine: How-to Video

2011-11-10T21:05:00.000-08:00

This video demonstrates how to open, fill, and close one of my vitrine pendants. Note that the music is loud, catchy, and potentially giggle-inducing.

Vitrine: Beach Glass

2011-11-07T11:14:00.000-08:00

Last year while visiting the historic waterfront town of Port Townsend, WA, I heard rumors of a stretch of shore so famed for excellent beachcombing that it had come to be known as "Glass Beach". I set out from downtown in search of a spot to match my optimistic mental vision: pale sands strewn with Japanese glass fishing floats, studded with cobalt chunks of patent medicine bottles.

Hours later I had found anemones, kelp, detached crab claws, and even a gumshoe chiton, but no glass. Tired and discouraged, I flopped down on a stretch of sand and looked out at the grey waters of the Strait of San Juan de Fuca.

When I finally turned my attention back to the beach, I saw that I was surrounded by tiny pieces of glass. In 15 minutes of pecking and hunting I garnered a small pile of pebbles--amber, green, clear, and, rarest of all, cobalt (perhaps Port Townsend was never big on patent medicines?). Other than their color, these tiny bits barely hint at their former forms, being so much closer to sand itself than to anything that ever held liquids or sliced unsuspecting feet.

Review of Chainmail at Pratt

2011-10-27T08:56:00.001-07:00

"Chainmail: Strength in Numbers"
Pratt, October 15-16 2011

Like knitting or weaving (or doing sit-ups, maybe? I'm not sure), making chainmail is satisfying in a way that only something so tediously repetitive can be. Open a jump-ring, close a jump ring, and eventually a fabric appears, like a trace record of your gestures.

The principles are simple, and once I'd managed to make up some vocabulary and sound effects to describe them, my students were off and running. As in my wood jewelry classes, I was amazed to see the variety of ways in which each person used the same materials and techniques to express their own ideas, from bias earrings and a rosette chain (above)...

to stamped-link and color-block samples (left) and a twisted tube bracelet (right)...

to a necklace combining 4-in-1 tube and spiral (left) and a multicolored spiral chain (right)...

to a set of finger-puppet armor: a 6-in-1 tube with a 4-in-1 cape. If you aren't a little bit crazy at the beginning of a chainmail weekend, you will be by the end!

Penland Educators' Retreat

2011-09-29T21:39:00.000-07:00

North Carolina's Penland School of Crafts has exerted a huge influence on me ever since I first attended a workshop in the summer of 1997. When I look back on the pieces I've made at Penland--however crude, however experimental--I can see dozens of little kernels that eventually grew into my "real" work. What would I be making now if it weren't for Penland?

Over the years, I've been a work-study student (washing dishes), a scholarship recipient, a studio assistant, and, finally, an instructor: Penland was where I taught my very first wood jewelry class, back in 2007.

And now I've had the thrill of experiencing Penland from yet another perspective, as a participant in the 2011 Craft Educators' Retreat. When I opened the email inviting me to apply it was almost like getting one of those "YOUR NAME HAVE WON 60000GBP" messages. A week in the woods with 100 other teachers, talking and learning and teaching in any of a dozen well-equipped studios? Too good to be true!

It was a whole lot of silver lining stuffed into one small dark cloud: my inability to attend three demos simultaneously. Other than that and self-imposed sleep deprivation it was an overwhelmingly positive experience. I deeply believe that one of the most important qualities a teacher can possess is indiscriminate generosity, and this week hammered that idea home. Not only was I surrounded by people who are at the top of their game, they were unanimously willing to spill their secrets, whether in scheduled demos or informal tutorials sparked by a lunchtime chat.

Mark Gardner taught woodturning and Stoney Lamar shared his signature surface texturing and finishing technique (that's metalsmith Suzanne Pugh looking on).

Sculptor Sabiha Mujtaba (my awesome roommate) showed us how to transfer a design from model to block in preparation for power carving. Dean Pulver wowed silversmith Julia Woodman with an impromptu demo of the "Ming Ding".

Sculptor Critz Campbell shared a low-tech trick for steam-bending wood, and I ventured out of the wood studio to see papercut artist Béatrice Coron's overview of materials and tools.

Perhaps even more inspiring than the expert instruction was seeing the experts take a risk on trying something new. The hotshop schedule quickly filled up as teachers like master blacksmith Jim Cooper jumped at the chance to blow some glass.

I hadn't blown since last year, but to my surprise some of the skills I accumulated at Pilchuck came back to me, while the overriding anxiety didn't. Patiently coached by gaffer extraordinaire Sami Lipscomb, I made a hip flask that's a big step up from my last attempt.

I took advantage of tools I don't usually have access to and made a little progress on my ongoing doll project. Mark Gardner helped me to turn some tiny wood versions, and Ben Elliott showed me how to make similar shapes in flame-worked borosilicate glass.

And I finally got to cast some glass rings that I'll eventually clean up and carve into signets.

I brought along a handful of empty vitrines, which turned into mementos of this very memorable experience: a sample of Dolph Smith's "forged paper" technique reminds me to be a generous teacher, a collage of leaves and mica simulating the Penland view reminds me to me resourceful, woven shavings from Stoney Lamar's turning demo reminds me to enjoy the process as much as the product, and a set of wings removed from a squashed bee reminds me that aiming for beauty often involves overcoming squeamishness. Quite a lot of lessons from just a week in the woods!

Thank you so much to the funders, my fellow retreaters, and everyone at Penland who worked so hard to put this amazing experience together.

NEW Website

2011-09-07T11:00:00.000-07:00

www.juliaharrison.net

At long last, I have a website of my very own! Visit to see a gallery of completed work, find out about upcoming classes and private lessons, or shop for my vitrine pendants. The site is still very much a work-in-progress so I am grateful for comments, corrections, and constructive criticism.

You can access this blog through a tab on the website, or reach it directly at julia-harrison.blogspot.com.

Vitrine: Magnolia Bridge

2011-09-05T10:45:00.000-07:00

Many years ago I fought and won an epic eBay battle for a 1920's souvenir pendant from Rio. Two glass discs were reverse-painted with the silhouette of the city's skyline and sandwiched together around slices of iridescent blue butterfly wing, which fill in for both sky and water. The whole thing was then fitted into a thin silver bezel, protecting the fragile contents.

I've always been mesmerized by souvenir jewelry--exotic materials and exotic forms combining into a portable talisman of some faraway place--but this pendant really got to me. I love both its particulars (the craggy shapes, the hot, shimmering blue) and its general mechanical principle, the fact that a couple of pieces of glass and a little silver could enable their ephemeral contents to survive a century and travel the continents.

So now I make my own vitrine pendants and my own, personal souvenirs. Over the last couple of years I've traveled much less than I used to, so the curiosity I once expended elsewhere now drives me to explore Seattle and to preserve my experiences by making stay-cation souvenirs.

This piece shows Elliott Bay and the Magnolia Bridge, as seen from my apartment window. In keeping with my Making Do challenge, it uses gold leaf given to me in England 15 years ago, and the wing of a blue Morpho butterfly that I've been carrying around since high school.

Making Do

2011-08-29T20:34:00.000-07:00

You know that saying about good intentions? Here are just a few of the things that pave my own personal road to hell:
plaster molds
hand-blown bell jars
scientific glassware
fabric
yarn
a childhood's worth of beads
a sheep's-worth of New Zealand wool
soap for casting
soap for carving
jet for carving
a hunk of jelly opal for carving
500 mother-of-pearl buttons
10 pounds of blue-and-white porcelain shards
ink, watercolors, acrylics
more fabric
wood, wood objects, wood shavings, sawdust

All of these things and many more were acquired with the noblest of intentions: I meant to make them into art.

But I haven't. Instead, I've made them into a hoard. A hoard that overspills my drawers and shelves, takes up a valuable chunk of my parents' garage, and breaks my back every time I move. It's a pain, but even more than that, it's hurtful.

A year or so ago I read about a study of different types of stress and their effects on your health. Before that I would have assumed that the fight-or-flight adrenaline rush that always makes me feel like puking would rank as the least healthy kind of stress, but it turned out to be something more insidious. The study determined that the greatest emotional and physical damage is caused by the stress of things left undone.

I began to realize that my stockpile of supplies is, by definition, a teetering stack of things left undone. And talk about stress! If you tend to run yourself down for being uncreative or unproductive, a heap of crumbling Sculpey, yellowing sketchbooks, and crusted-over paint sets is just the kind of corroborating evidence you don't need. For every time that some ancient acquisition enabled me to act on a bright idea, there must be at least fifty times that the sight of a stack of unused, thwarted, and reproachful art supplies has caused me to turn off my desk lamp and leave the room.

Something desperately needed to be done, so I've embarked on a kind of self-intervention. I am challenging myself to get by on the supplies I have for as long as possible. There are no arbitrary dates, no insane impositions; I'll buy stuff if I absolutely need to for a class or a client, and I'll get rid of things that I decide are unusable or simply not for me.

In the short term, I hope to clear up some shelf space. In the longer term, I hope that this challenge will stretch my creative practice in new directions. By making do with with I have on hand, I expect to make and do things that I might not otherwise have thought of or gotten around to. Many years ago I went to a show of drawings by Gabriele Ellertson, one of my beloved college art teachers, where one standout series came out of an ill-starred residency. Somehow Gabriele's materials were lost along the way and she had only a limited and uncharacteristic palette to work with: two bottles of ink, one black, one virulent yellow. Did she throw in the towel? Nope. She made a series of hilarious and lovely ink drawings of anthropomorphic slugs.

And ultimately, I hope that this experiment can help me to address the fears and distorted perceptions that are probably at the root of my Depression-era tendency to hoard art supplies against the coming of a long, cold, creative winter. Perhaps I will learn to recognize when enough is enough--or to trust that even when it isn't, the world doesn't necessarily end.

I am trying think of on my self-imposed restrictions as a barrier placed between a plant and a window. Please check back soon to see what new directions I try while puzzling my way towards the sun.

Pratt 2011 Class Gallery

2011-08-20T21:21:00.000-07:00

This was my fourth time teaching "Jewelry That Grows on Trees" at Seattle's Pratt Fine Arts Center. By now it shouldn't surprise me, but it does: I give the same information to a new group of students, and out comes yet another stunning collection of unique pieces.

"Veneer" at Portland's MoCC

2011-07-08T08:13:00.000-07:00

photo by Dan Kvitka
75 Gifts for 75 Years
Museum of Contemporary Craft, Portland OR
July 28, 2011 – February 25, 2012
Curated by Namita Gupta Wiggers

Happy birthday, Museum of Contemporary Craft! What do you get for a 75-year-old who has almost everything? Everything they don't have, apparently. In honor of this milestone, collectors near and far have donated or promised gifts that will enable the Museum to fill gaps in its permanent collection. Many of these works will be on display in a special exhibition that starts later this month and continues into 2012.

I am thrilled to report that my Veneer pendant will be part of the action! Thanks to a generous Seattle collector, the Museum of Contemporary Craft will own a copy of Victoria Beckham's cleavage (which is itself a splendid example of contemporary craft and has been displayed worldwide). Most of my series of maple cleavage pendants are more subtle sections of A, B, C, or D-cup frontages that can sometimes actually suction in place if properly fitted. Then I started thinking about the "what if" extremes and carved Veneer while looking at a paparazzi photo of Posh Spice. Almost any wearer fails to fill her "shoes", the gap behind the spherical lobes casting questioning shadows on the real chest beneath. The name refers to the practice of covering furniture and other objects with wood veneer, a thin skin of real material; it amuses me that the word also hints at Venus, and the related word, venereal.

And here's me at the opening reception for the show, in front of the case that my work shares with Keith Lewis'...

Apple Earrings

2011-06-20T21:49:00.000-07:00

I've now lived in my current apartment for just over two years, the longest I have lived in one place since I left home to go to college. In that two years some things have stayed the same (the general awesomeness of the view, below right, the nightly ruckus from the downstairs neighbors), while others have changed beyond recognition.

Our street cuts diagonally across a hill so steep that several blocks are split into double boulevards by sloping medians. When we moved in the medians in front of the house were overgrown amalgams of Himalayan blackberry, parked cars, and abandoned furniture. Then last year a team of tireless neighborhood volunteers transformed the flattest section into what is now a jolly patchwork of thriving gardens. Earlier this year, the less hospitable section directly in front of our apartment began to get the same treatment (below left).

One morning before work I was eating breakfast and enjoying the view when I glanced down at the old apple tree out front. To my horror, I saw one of the gardeners looking it up and down, a chainsaw waiting at his feet like a muzzled rottweiler.

If you've seen my blog, you know my art depends on the cutting down of trees. But I generally prefer them alive, and I especially like this one. It's weird and hunched and totally asymmetrical; it grows beautiful blossoms and thousands of tiny, terrible apples. Birds nest in it.

So I ran outside in my jammies like a flustered hen and demanded that Mr Gardener tell me just exactly what he planned to do to that tree with that chainsaw. In my head I rehearsed calling in sick to work in case I needed to bind myself to the trunk in protest.

It turned out that he had consulted with the city arborist and was planning to selectively prune some damaged branches in hopes of reinvigorating the tree.

Well, ok then.

The next day the pruned branches were out for garbage collection so I helped myself to a chunk. I sanded down a couple of thin slices, and voila!: locavore earrings. I love that the flaws--the greenish tinge along the bark, the central starburst of stains, the punctuation of insect holes--are all records of the tree's trials and tribulations. And I love that the cross-section reveals a couple of rings that embody two years of the life I've shared with a man, a cat, and a neglected apple tree.

Upcoming "Intro to Kitchen Table Jewelry"

2011-06-13T21:13:00.001-07:00

Intro to Kitchen Table Jewelry

4 Wednesdays, 6 July - 27 July 2011, 6pm-9pm

University of Washington Experimental College

UW Main Campus

details and registration

Want to make jewelry without investing in an expensive setup? Learn how simple tools and safe materials can turn your desk or table into a productive jewelry studio. We’ll cover sawing, texturing, drilling, polishing, clasp fabrication, chain making - and more! Create professional - looking pieces to wear or give. Starter materials for each project included in course fee; students supply personal tools (shopping list provided; most basic kit starts around $25) and additional materials as desired.

As always, please feel free to spread the word to anyone who might be interested, and don't hesitate to get in touch if you have any questions!

"Art by Attrition" Opens

2011-05-25T20:42:00.000-07:00

Art by Attrition
Featuring work by:
Teresa Faris, Julia Harrison, Shinji Nakaba, Jon M Ryan, Emily Watson, Hiroko Yamada

KOBO at Higo
Openings Friday, May 27, 5-8pm
and Saturday, May 28, 5-8pm

Even after all these years, the process of carving still fascinates me. It's mysterious in a way that only something so simple can be. In essence, you just take away the material that doesn't belong, then stop when you see the shape you want: ta-daaa. But of course there's more to it than that. I love the tools and the tricks and the physical challenge, and I still get chills from the notion of extricating one form from inside another.

On the other hand, it's a totally absurd thing to do all day, attacking tiny pieces of wood with even tinier pieces of metal until my hands cramp and my butt falls asleep. Sometimes when things get tough (or when I breathe in too much varnish) my internal coach borrows Jesse Jackson's voice to bark out a kind of carver call to arms:
"You've got to negate to cre-ate! RE-duce to PRO-duce!"

When the owners of KOBO at Higo asked me to organize a group show for the SNAG conference, I decided to focus on artists using subtractive techniques to create jewelry and small objects. My hope is that the show will pique people's curiosity about both the technical and conceptual skills that working negatively requires. My ulterior motive was to surround myself with the work of other people crazy enough to create beauty by committing tiny, repetitive acts of violence.

Work-in-progress: Iris

2011-04-27T11:36:00.001-07:00

As I've mentioned before, in the interest of being a better teacher I am trying to be more diligent about recording my work in different stages of development, and less squeamish about sharing those "before" pictures. Here's a current work-in-progress, an iris carved from home-cured boxwood...

While there are plenty of flowers that I like the looks of, irises have always exerted a special pull. As a mythology-obsessed little kid I learned that the flower borrows it's name from Iris, the Greek gods' errand-girl. The iris is the state flower of Tennessee, where I grew up, and around this time every year, gardens bulge with everything from waist-high ruffled and bearded versions to absurdly delicate miniature varietals native to Siberia. The flowers are a startling rainbow: from every shade of purple, to green, yellow, peach, black, and the twinging red of a skinned knee. Along with unicorns and rainbows, they were one of my favorite things to draw, with that fascinating arrangement of opposed and off-set petals that seem to do-si-do each other around in some botanical take on square dancing.

When I moved to Japan, the irises came out around the same time that homesickness hit me, and I took a therapeutic trip out to the country to see a famous flooded garden that boasts--if I remember right--upwards of 400,000 blooms. It was an amazing sight, and so very Japanese; I got into line with hundreds of other tourists and we wound a slow conga around a mile-long wooden boardwalk, stopping every three feet for photos.

Irises are endemic to Japan, but they have also been cultivated for centuries, and the three main types (Hanashōbu, Kakitsubata, Ayame) are a staple of traditional poetry and visual arts. Because the leaves resemble swords, the iris is also a key symbol of the Japanese holiday that is now Children's Day, but used to be Boys' Day (May 5th).

My carved iris is equal parts therapy and homework. Over recent years, I've set myself various carving assignments based on old forms or masters in order to build my skills (like my holly chain). While most of my own work is figurative, I find super-carver Grinling Gibbons' limewood carvings of flowers and foliage both intimidating and inspirational. I decided I would give flowers a try and somehow a single flower seemed a more reasonable starting point than an entire garland. For my material I chose a twisted branch of boxwood that's been seasoning in my closet since one of my neighbors chopped down the bushes in his yard about 18 months ago. Typically used for Medieval rosary beads and Japanese netsuke, boxwood holds crisp details and begs to be touched; it starts out the color of old cream or fresh butter, and darkens to caramel after years of human contact and soaking up skin oils.

And of course, it had to be an iris. In the aftermath of the disasters in Japan, irises were on my mind, as a comforting symbol of the tenacious and adaptive beauty of a country than means so much to me. And as I worked to find the ghost of the form inside the rough branch, tornadoes and then flood waters ripped through the South, giving me even more to think about.

So it's not a glossy calendar iris that I'm carving. It's twisted, drenched, and bedraggled, but most importantly, it just is. Or it will be, in another twenty or thirty hours.

Here are a few of the things I've been mulling over during the long hours of carving:
-The absurdity of making stuff
-The absurdity of "growing" a flower inside a tree branch
-How different cultures accommodate natural forces and cycles
-Individual fragility and group resiliency
-How misleading our perceptions of safety and vulnerability can be
-Borrowing concepts of seasonality and "locavorism" from food and applying them to art

My intention was to cut off the rough ends and mount the flower as a large brooch, but now I'm not so sure. Does everything I make really need to be wearable? I think for now I'll keep it as it is.

I take a picture more or less every time I change CDs (listening to Alan Hollinghurst's novel Line of Beauty). I'll keep adding pictures below until I decide to leave well enough alone.

Lucy Sarneel Workshop: What's in an Image

2011-04-25T19:59:00.000-07:00

Pratt recently hosted Dutch artist Lucy Sarneel (above, right), a jeweler known for her poetic work with fabricated zinc and historic textiles. I was on the fence about taking her 4-day master class, but since I've been struggling lately to find new approaches to my own work so I finally signed up.

Lucy started the "What's in an Image" workshop with a kind of card trick: holding out a fanned array of pale pink envelopes she had us each pick one at random. Inside was a vintage or found image that would be our starting point. Mine was a shot of what turned out to be two Dutch zoo employees taking some shackled birds for a stroll.

Without sharing our images with each other, we each spent some time examining them and jotting down notes--impressions, observations, and in some cases, full-blown narratives. Reconvening as a group, we took turns reading out our lists of words as everyone else sketched the shapes or images that the words brought to mind. Next, we revealed our source photos and compared them with the drawings; it was lovely and comforting to see the range of individual expressions, as well as spooky to see some strong similarities between photos and drawings. Each person got to keep the drawings done in response their reading as an additional layer of source materials.

Then we set about making things inspired by our pictures. Lucy encouraged us to start loose and wide, using bits of paper, thread, or wire to create a range of models and elements rather than a finalized piece. Drawn both to the birds' sweet expressions and the tidy buttons on the men's shirts, I played for a while with the idea of hybridizing the two.

Lucy also spoke with each of us about the kind of work we usually make and about new directions we might light to explore. I explained my interest in making work that reflects physical and emotional relationships, and my frustration with what I feel is an overdependence on symmetry and tidiness.

After our talk I went back to the picture and tried to imagine what it would be like to be one of the men or birds. I imagined that the heavy chains would bite into the men's shoulders and rap them on the knees. I imagined that the birds might feel like pampered prisoners; I noted how two of them turned towards each other, but with their faces slightly offset, as if they wanted to make contact but couldn't quite look each other in the eye. I tried to put all of that into my next model.

I recently broke my latest attempt at a wooden chain, so it was a comparative breeze to build a hollow, square-sectioned chain from butcher paper and white glue. I love the illusion of perspective and weight that graduated links can give, so I made each link smaller than the last. I fused the top three into a tense curve that's meant to sit on the top of the collarbone like a corsage (there's a pin glued to the back), with the smallest two links swinging free. I sliced the largest ring open and fixed it into an open position echoing the silhouettes of the two birds. I added little paper beaks, and curls of paper plumage with white-painted undersides.

I liked it but it felt somehow too familiar, too ordained. So next I made a piece that I couldn't actually make from wood. I used white glue and two-toned xerox paper to make a chain of feathers. I have no idea if it will go anywhere, but I find it a strangely appealing mix of fragility and structure.

And of course, one of the workshop's great pleasures was watching my fellow students generate an ingenious range of work. It always exasperates me to see a class full of identical objects, but that was far from the case here. Even starting with an image that meant nothing to them and materials no more advanced that those found in a kindergarten, each student left with pieces that were personal and unique--and a better idea of how to amplify those qualities in their "real" work.

Thank you, Lucy!

Bellevue Art Museum Display

2011-01-28T08:46:00.000-08:00

I currently have three pieces on display at the Bellevue Art Museum as part of the Pratt Scholarship Exhibition in the Community Gallery. My pieces include a wood carving from 2009, my cast glass hand from 2010, and a new ivory carving, "Eye of the Needle" (below), that I finished this January, about 10 seconds before it went into the box bound for BAM. I attended the opening reception last Thursday and it was a real thrill to see my little group among the stunning pieces from the 4 other artists participating in the show.

The Scholarship Exhibtion runs through through April 23.

Casting with Jennifer Stenhouse

2010-11-11T13:51:00.000-08:00

I just finished taking an 8-week workshop on wax-carving and jewelry casting with Jennifer Stenhouse, and here's what I have to show for it. Not much in terms of sheer tonnage, maybe, but weighty proof of new skills and ways of thinking. After years of cautious wood carving, it was so liberating to work with a more back-and-forth material. If I carved too thin or snapped off a finger or flubbed a detail, I could just dribble on more wax and try again! Total revelation. Plus, unlike my one-of-a-kind wood pieces, each of these is reproducible.

Compared to the rest of the students, I worked at a glacial pace, but by my own standards, I was on fire. Here are some of the fruits of my labor...

A sterling version of the wooden "Generous" ring I carved earlier this year. The wood one needed to be considerably larger and thicker for strength, and I found it hard to break out of that mindset. The sterling version is smaller, with a lower profile and hollow spaces on the underside, but a workout nonetheless. Before I cast any more copies, I'll have to work on digging out more of the excess weight.

Two tiny hands holding tiny books; too heavy for earrings--pendants, maybe?

Three tiny pelvises, for sculpture and jewelry projects.

Five tiny peaches, each about the size of a pea, also made with both sculpture and jewelry in mind.

Even though there's still a lot of cleaning up to do on all these pieces, I feel like a kid with a bunch of new toys!

Wood Jewelry Workshop Review

2010-10-18T13:49:00.000-07:00

Another year, another bumper crop of new wood jewelers. The students in my second annual "Jewelry that Grows on Trees" weekend workshop at Pratt were an ambitious and hard-working bunch. These are some of the pieces they produced in just two days.

Coldworking Class with Rebecca Chernow

2010-10-09T13:15:00.000-07:00

Intro to Coldworking

Pratt Fine Arts Center

As I described in my previous post about Pilchuck, a lot of glass work takes place far from the heat and glamor of the furnace. In a "cold shop" you can cut, grind, or polish glass using tools that stay cool under a continuous stream or spray of water. Coldworking has the potential to make--or break--a work of glass art.

I spent last weekend standing in a puddle and wiping indoor rain off my glasses while learning the ins and outs of Pratt's cold shop from the excellent Rebecca Chernow. The class is a pre-requisite for being able to rent the shop as an independent user, so there were a certain number of hoops to jump through, but Rebecca kept things moving and made sure we had some time to work on personal projects. She furnished each of us with the raw materials for three projects: a square of window glass for a sandblasted coaster (below; and yes, I did blast straight through the middle by accident), a bubble to cut into a candy dish, and a solid blob that became a lens-topped paperweight (above).

Upcoming Class: Intro to Kitchen Table Jewelry

2010-10-08T09:00:00.000-07:00

Intro to Kitchen Table Jewelry
4 Wednesdays, October 13 - November 3, 2010
6pm – 9pm
University of Washington main campus
ASUW Experimental College

Two big things happened as soon as I earned my MFA: I started trying to make money from my jewelry, and I stopped having easy access to a studio. Yikes!

Luckily, by that time I had a long history of making jewelry whatever tools, materials, and space I could scrounge up. Now I'm sharing the strategies I've developed over the years in my new class for the University of Washington's ASUW Experimental College.

In contrast to the classes I normally teach in fantastically well-equipped studios (Pratt, Penland, the 92nd St Y, etc), I'll be focusing specifically on techniques that students can practice in the comfort of their own homes. We'll use tools that are affordable, safe, quiet, and won't require you to reinforce the floor or build an addition. We'll share some equipment and materials, and students will bring their own starter kit of personal tools (starts around $25).

This class is for you if:

-you're jewelry-curious but reluctant to splash out too much cash on a brand-new hobby.

-with the holidays looming, you'd like to make jewelry to wear or give to friends.
-you already make jewelry but would like to lighten your studio schedule.
-you'd like to explore the common ground between jewelry and another craft you already practice.
-you want to keep making jewelry while traveling around the world(of course, the easiest solution to this quandary it to take me with you).

Feel free to contact me with any questions!

Details and registration information

Upcoming PONCHO Lecture

2010-09-12T20:45:00.000-07:00

This week at Seattle's Pratt Fine Arts Center, the 2009-10 PONCHO Artists-in-Residence & Gregory M. Robinson Pathways Scholars will present slides and discuss how they've been affected by their scholarship year. The presenters are Adele Eustis, Crista Matteson, Arun Sharma, Pete Singleton, and myself. I've had the opportunity to get to know some of the others this year, and I can't wait to see what they've come up with!

The talk takes place on Thursday, September 16, from 6:30 to 8pm, at 1902 S Main St in Seattle.

The PONCHO/Pathways show is on view at the Pratt Gallery in the Tashiro Kaplan Building (306 S Washington St, Ste 102) through October 1. A piece from each artist is also on display in Pratt's main building.

Upcoming Fall into Art Class

2010-09-10T13:30:00.001-07:00

Next week I'll be teaching a 4 hour class on textured metal as part of Pratt's beginner-friendly Fall into Art series. Students will leave this fun, fast-paced class with a striking one-of-a-kind bracelet.

Fall into Art: Textured Metal Bracelets
Wednesday 15 September 2010, 6-10pm
Pratt Fine Arts Center, Seattle WA

details and registration information

Figure Sculpting

2010-09-07T22:14:00.000-07:00

Last month I took at 4-session figure sculpting class at Pratt with Jeanne Ferraro. Ferraro is a Seattle artist and teacher who works in media ranging from clay, iron, and hot glass to charcoal, pencil and pastel.

Although I've been doing figurative work for a while now, I learned a great deal! During the first session we agreed on a pose and set to work building stick figure armatures out of plumbing pipes and twisted wire; because the wire is so flexible, limbs can be repositioned even after they're covered in clay. Putting on the first layer of clay was hugely fun and involved spanking the lumps with a chunk of wood until they took on some degree of form.

Then, the hard part: aiming for accuracy. We spent the better part of three classes circling the model like sharks, squinting as we measured parts of her body against our developing forms, carving off bits here and adding blobs of new clay there.

And before any of us were quite ready, we were done. Four sessions is not a lot of time! Some of my classmates will continue to work on their sculptures, and a few might even take molds and copy their forms in more lasting materials like resin or bronze. Mine is gracefully disintegrating on the deck.

Post-Pilchuck Review

2010-07-29T22:22:00.000-07:00

Pilchuck Glass School
Session 3, 2010

Like any savvy institution with a limited marketing budget, Pilchuck Glass School wants to know how you first heard of its existence: was it from a professor? A magazine article? A magazine ad? One of the school's own mailings? I think every printed interaction I've with Pilchuck has included these questions, and while I'd love help out, I'm useless. I honestly can't remember a time when I didn't know about Pilchuck--or a time when I didn't want to go.

Since Pilchuck was founded slightly before I was, in 1972, it's possible that I heard the word very early on. Glass artist Dale Chihuly worked with art supporters Anne Gould Hauberg and John Hauberg to establish a dedicated glass school in the midst of a vast tree farm overlooking Puget Sound (below). Chihuly and his co-horts were dedicated to the notion of working in teams, a European model not then the norm in American glass schools and studios. This approach drastically expanded the scale and scope of the work they were able to achieve, and engendered strong relationships amongst Pilchuck glassworkers and visiting artists.

My course, "Glass with Passion", was lead by Dublin-based glass artist, Róisín de Buitléar. It was geared for novices and those with limited experience, but whereas most introductory glass classes would have beginners repeating the same simple forms, Róisín wanted us to jump right in to making objects that we could engage with. She asked each of us to come to Pilchuck with three items representing three personal passions; these would be the starting point for our glass work.

Above: My class bonding during a "hayride", enjoying Pilchuck's scenic grounds from the back of a mattress-lined truck.

We began with hot casting. By impressing or carving shapes into a mixture of clay and sand, you create a form that you can then fill with molten glass ladled out of the furnace. It's also possible to add extra elements such as leaves, wire, aluminum foil, or crushed glass frit, either to the void or to the surface of the hot glass. At the point when the glass is firm but still hot, you dig it out of the sand and hustle it over to a heated annealing oven, where it will be allowed to cool down slowly so that internal stresses don't cause the glass to crack.

Left: Our amazing teaching assistants making hot casting look easy. Cathy Chase pours and Jono Lukas cuts the stream with shears when the mold is full.
Right: Róisín's cast bundt cakes, still piping hot.

Next, we learned to create casting molds using pieces of steel fitted together like a puzzle. As with sand-casting, the hot glass is poured into the void; then the steel has to be agitated until it sets up so that they don't fuse together permanently.

Left: One of Sam's steel-cast pieces, just after the steel forms have been removed.
Right: My sand casting of a kashigata, after extensive grinding and polishing.

From casting, we moved on to blowing. While I initially assumed that we were progressing through the techniques in order of difficulty, it soon became apparent that another factor was in play. Casting is a team effort, at least for beginners. You need helpers to open the furnace door, to clean your dribbling ladle, to fix your hat (no joke!), and so on, but because the steps are much the same each time, the help is more or less automated, and if one helper does wander off you can yell for another or muddle through.

Blowing, on the other hand, is a much more nuanced dance. Each piece is different and progresses differently; while the person "in charge" can and does give commands, it's ideal if the assistant can anticipate them--at least to the degree of being on the right side of the bench for whatever is coming next. By the time we started blowing, my classmates and I knew each other well enough to develop this kind of communication.

Left: Jono advises as Annie attaches a punty to Erica's piece.
Right: Tamsin shapes her piece with wet newspaper as Tatiana gives it a little air.

The whole undertaking was very difficult for me. Strength, coordination, timing, unflappability, a high pain threshold, pithy communication--none of these qualities are nurtured by my everyday life or required by the kind of work I normally do.

So I decided to try for "simple", making bell jars to place over the small figures I've been carving lately. As I gained experience, they got larger, and thinner, and more regular. Then I gained just enough experience to get cocky and make a big mistake. I blew out a jar that was my largest and thinnest by far; putting it back into the glory hole to heat it for a final round of shaping, I let it get too hot and as I watched it collapsed in on itself. As I pulled it out, my teammates shook their heads: better to break it off and start again. But I reminded myself that I was there to learn, not to be perfect, so I blew it back out, shaped it it the best I could, and put it in the annealer.

That jar (above, far left) turned out to be one of my favorite pieces. It's a nice shape overall, but one wall is punctuated by an irregular scar, formed when the jar collapsed and the wall folded in on itself. It represents an all-too-rare moment when I allowed myself to act on the thought, "I wonder what would happen if...?"

I also started on a series of wood and glass doll forms, based on antique dolls that I saw in a museum several years ago. After one of our first days of glassblowing, I snuck off to the woodshop and turned a wooden doll--ostensibly so that I would have a model to work from, but really so I could feel in control for a little while. I made a few similar forms in solid glass, then got ambitious and did some hollow ones.

Many of my pieces still need to be "coldworked"--to have their sharp edges and rough surfaces ground down on wheels and sanders kept clean and cool by running water. In the meantime, I'm working out how to arrange them, and what to put inside them. Right now, they really are dolls, things that can occupy my hands while my mind plays.

Thank you to Pilchuck, to the staff and instructors, and to my comrades-in-arms! This experience will stick with me for a long time.

Glass is mighty hungry work! Check out my Sweet Travel blog to read about Pilchuck treats such as salmonberries, red huckleberries, and desserts by Holly.

In Brent McGregor's Workshop

2010-07-29T22:01:00.000-07:00

Rocky Mountain Timber Products

When I was in Bend a couple of months ago I had the chance to visit Brent McGregor's workshop and showroom. McGregor is a master of what is often called "rustic" woodworking--and a very patient tour guide.

McGregor mostly works with juniper trees too twisted and irregular to be considered anything but waste by the timber industry. As a former logger himself, he has the skills needed to locate and extricate even the most isolated trees. After scouting and harvesting his materials, McGregor subjects them to a long process of stripping and finishing; his workshop (top and above) is filled with works in progress.

The showroom is stuffed to the rafters with sculpture, architectural elements, and furniture.

The outbuildings and grounds are a storage area for pieces of wood that I could happily stare at for hours--they're every bit as absorbing as those craggy stones in Zen dry gardens or on Chinese scholars' desks.

Noh Mask Carving Demonstration

2010-07-19T18:22:00.000-07:00

One Saturday last month visitors to the Wing Luke Museum had the rare opportunity to see a live Noh performance by Nagoya's Chuuden Yuugakukai theater troupe. Noh is a type of traditional Japanese drama that features wooden masks. The intricately carved and lacquered masks transform male actors into stock characters ranging from heroes and maidens (above) to drunken sprites and vengeful crones.

Before the show, there was an even rarer opportunity to see how those masks are created. Since my entire MFA thesis work was based on Noh masks, I wasn't about to let the fact that I was scheduled to work that morning stand between me and seeing the real deal (thanks again for the shift switch, Roxanne!).

Two carvers set up shop in a small conference room for a brief demonstration of their tools and techniques. As they worked on rough but already recognizable masks, the carvers fielded questions from the crowd. As someone who got into carving relatively late in life, I was especially cheered to learn that before their second careers in Noh, both men were co-workers at an electric company.

Their masks-in-progress were the ones that most people would probably think of if challenged to imagine a Noh mask, idealized female features on a smooth, oval-shaped face. Although these faces appear simple (particularly when compared to some other masks that have horns or wrinkles or crazy expressions), their clean, refined symmetry makes them devilishly hard to carve.

In order to stick to an accepted standard, both carvers worked from photos of particularly prized masks. They used a variety of techniques to measure their progress against the model, frequently verifying their proportions with dividers and redrawing guidemarks in pencil as soon as the old ones were carved away. They also used cut paper templates to check the masks' profiles along several key cross-sections.

I was really struck by how frequently both carvers stopped to have a good look at how things were coming along. One of the most amazing things about this character's mask is that it should express different emotions depending on the tilt of the wearer's head, so the carvers made sure to check their work from various angles and in different lighting.

The hinoki (Japanese cypress) from which the masks are carved is close-grained but relatively soft, allowing the carvers to aggressively remove large amounts of material from the back and sides.

After the mask's interior and exterior are carved, another artist will apply coats of lacquer; above, the hair texture on a red-faced Shojo mask. We didn't get to see this step, but that's probably for the best since the materials are pretty toxic.

Although I've examined many Noh masks in pictures and in person, this demonstration thoroughly enriched my understanding and appreciation of the art form. The icing on the cake was the chance to experience a Noh mask from an actor's perspective (above). Although the mask was much lighter than I expected, the eyeholes were incredibly small and difficult to see through. I can only imagine the skill and training required to navigate a spotlit stage in a heavy kimono while blinkered by one of these beautiful masks!

Ring, Ring, Ring...

2010-07-05T19:35:00.000-07:00

Now that I feel reasonably competent at carving pieces of wood into simple forms, my attention has shifted somewhat to issues of efficiency, trying wherever possible to save time, money, or effort. For example, I'm working on a number of rings that I plan to use as blanks for a casting project. Rather than carve each from a separate block of wood, I'm working on all 8 at once. The big piece is so much easier to hang on to for drilling, sawing, and carving. The chunk of scrap maple is also tapered, so each ring is a different size than its neighbors.

Pratt Teen Class Gallery

2010-07-02T17:58:00.000-07:00

Today was the last day of my wooden jewelry class for Pratt's Teen Week: 15 hours, 5 students, ages 13 and up. We tackled techniques such as wood burning, sawing, drilling, and making findings and attachments. Here's a sample of some of the amazing work that emerged.

Penland Auction

2010-06-26T23:27:00.000-07:00

The annual fundraising auction for the Penland School of Crafts will take place on the weekend of August 13-14. I donated Debutante, a pearl collar with a carved and painted maple clasp and three knotted strands of cultivated pearls.

Pratt followup

2010-06-05T07:25:00.000-07:00

Here are a few of the pieces that emerged from my recent 8-week class at Pratt in Seattle. The schedule (6-10pm on Thursdays) proved to be more of a challenge than I had anticipated, but my students were real troopers. As usual, I was amazed that a group of people could start with the same materials, resources, and instructions, and end up with such diverse and individualistic work.

Thank you to all my students, and thanks again to everyone who helped me spread the word about this class!

Cedar necklace, plyboo earrings
Molly Simmons

Belt buckle, walnut ring
Vance Wolfe

Plyboo and pine earrings, walnut carvings (in progress)
Emily Lubahn

Maple ring (in progress)
Rebbecca Tomas

"Anatomy Lessons" at Taboo Studio

2010-05-19T22:15:00.000-07:00

I have a small batch of work (including "Holler", above) in an new group show at San Diego's Taboo Studio. "Anatomy Lessons" also includes work by Kristin Beeler, Jessica Calderwood, Diane Falkenhagen, Thomas Mann, and Christina Smith, and I'm very happy to be keeping such good company.

The show runs through June 18, and since I won't be able to see it, I'd love feedback from anyone who does!

Glass Hand

2010-05-18T10:39:00.000-07:00

Last year I was thrilled to receive a Pratt/PONCHO scholarship, good for credit towards classes at Seattle's Pratt Fine Arts Center. So thrilled, in fact, that I've just now gotten around to cashing some of it in. And I'm not being at all sarcastic here; I have lifelong history of hoarding the things I value most--outgrowing unworn dresses, or letting the premium Halloween candy (precious, precious candy) molder while I wait for the "perfect" occasion to eat it.

So I sat on my scholarship until something just too good to pass up came along: Intro to Kiln Casting with Susan Balshor. In the past I've dabbled in both casting (bronze, silver) and glass (fusing, lampworking) but I never found a good fit for the scale and level of detail I like to work with. Then along came leaded crystal...

As opposed to "hot casting" with ladles full of molten glass, kiln casting involves placing flowerpots full of crushed crystal on top of plaster molds arranged inside a kiln. As the kiln slowly heats up, the glass turns to syrup, drizzling down inside the mold and filling every nook, cranny, fingerprint, and tool mark. You just have to show up a few days later to take your nice cool mold out of the kiln, and--gently--bust the glass out of its shell.

During the 8-week class I did a few few smaller pieces but spent most of my time prepping a wax sculpture that is just about old enough for its own driver's license. Sometime during my sophomore or junior year of college I started making a modeled wax "portrait" of my hand, motivated, I seem to remember, by a comment my mother made when I started to get more serious about sculpting: "Well, you'll never be a hand model now."

Turns out she was right. Although the hand is a sculpture rather than a life-cast, it's a pretty careful rendition (modeled finger by finger) of my right hand as it was then; next to it my hands today are notably knobbier, more scarred, and more masculine/muscular. Funny to think, though, of all the things my hands hadn't yet done or learned when I made that model--I didn't even know how to knit yet!

I sculpted it slightly larger than life, intending to cast it in bronze (which shrinks significantly) but I didn't get around to casting it before I left college and lost access to the bronze foundry. The wax hand kicked around in various apartment freezers before I finally left it (along with most of my worldly goods) at my parents' house while I proceeded to live out of a suitcase for years at a time. When my parents retired and moved crosscountry, my mother somehow managed to transport the hand safely from Tennessee to Oregon. She doesn't often ask me for work, but when she gave me the hand back a couple of years ago she expressed an interest in seeing it made "into something".

And at long last, it has been. It weighs a lot more now, but at least it doesn't have to live in the freezer.

Pratt Auction

2010-05-09T23:27:00.000-07:00

The Pratt Fine Arts Center annual auction will take place this coming Saturday at Seattle's Magnuson Park. As far as I can tell, both tickets and volunteer opportunities are still available, and there's also a free preview the evening before. My contribution is "Truffle", a brooch carved from German pearwood. The catalog is full of covetable items--it's like Hammacher Schlemmer for craft lovers!

Upcoming: 8-week Pratt Class

2010-01-14T09:18:00.000-08:00

Starting in April, I'll be teaching an 8-week version of my "Jewelry that Grows on Trees" workshop at Pratt Fine Arts in Seattle. Here's the course description:

"Beautiful, versatile and widely available, wood is an ideal alternative material for jewelry. In this class we'll learn to make the most of wood's palate of colors and textures using tools and techniques appropriate for use in a home studio. Topics will include basic shaping and finishing, surface embellishment and creating more complex dimensional forms such as rings and cuffs. The instructor will also introduce basic carving techniques that rely on a minimum of hand tools. Prerequisite: Jewelry/Metalsmithing I or equivalent"

This will be the longest class I've taught yet, and I'm really looking forward to seeing ambitious projects and blossoming skill sets. Judging by the amazing work that comes out of a weekend workshop, I'm totally prepared to have my socks blown off and handed to me on a plate.

We'll meet on Thursdays, 6-10pm, April 1 to May 20. Students will also get FREE Friday access to the jewelry studios--perfect for all that homework I'll be assigning!

(Only kidding! Well, sort of.)

If you'd like the nitty-gritty details, go to http://online.activenetwork.com/pratt/Activities/ActivitiesDetails.asp?ProcessWait=N&aid=500
Of course, if you have any questions or concerns, feel free to e-mail them to me.

And please spread the word to anyone you know who might be interested!

3/4/10 update:
The class is a go with 6 fantastic students! Thanks so much to everyone who helped to spread the word; I am so grateful for your support. Please check back to see what we get up to...

Generous Ring

2010-01-10T15:38:00.000-08:00

Generous Ring

My first finished piece of the new year was brought about by something I read in People magazine probably 15 or 20 years ago. Asked to describe his accessories, Rolling Stones guitarist Keith Richards mentioned a sterling silver skull ring he wore regularly. Although skull jewelry is more usually associated with the principle of memento mori ("remember that you will die"), Richards said the ring reminded him that, "We're all the same under the skin."

Like much that I've read in People over the years (but unlike the Japanese lesson that I read only yesterday, sigh) this really stuck with me. It highlights something I find peculiarly seductive about jewelry, namely its instructive potential. While most forms of jewelry are capable of carrying a message (think slogan badges, fraternity pins, or pendants religious) rings are especially interesting because they spend so much time in the wearer's own field of vision. Say you need to remember to buy milk or pay a bill: a string tied around your finger is probably going to be a better reminder than one looped around your ankle, right?

So what do I want to be reminded of? Well, in the wake of a difficult few years, I want to keep in mind that as a rule people are kind and generous. Although my motif is admittedly heavy-handed (part claddagh, part Allstate ad) it manages to cue my memories of the innumerable people who've housed, fed, hired, supported, and encouraged me, who've taken my classes or purchased my work, who've given me a genuine smile or accurate directions. This ring also reminds me that although I may continue to depend heavily on the kindness of friends and strangers, the time to start returning those favors is now, not some fictional and far-off "good time".

[The first installment in my "repayment plan" is the photo below, which goes out to my recent and future carving students. Although I'm squeamish about showing unfinished work (I'm still not over the time someone called one of my unfinished female figures a "fattie") I think illustrates something that's crucial for any aspiring carver to know: a carving looks awful until suddenly it doesn't. Don't loose heart!]

ASU Workshop

2009-12-10T17:49:00.000-08:00

I just spent two exhausting but enjoyable days in Tempe, leading workshops for jewelry students at Arizona State University.

Since these were very experienced students with unlimited access to really good facilities (including the best-kept wood studio I've ever seen), I had the luxury of doing things a little differently than usual. Our first day was a fast-forward version of the wood jewelry class that normally takes me 2-4 days to teach; I powered through one demo after another, pausing only for a Chipotle burrito (which somehow tasted even better than they do in Seattle).

On day two we switched our focus to carving basswood spoons. Because they include a variety of forms and surfaces, spoons are a great way to gain experience with carving tools and techniques. By the end of the session everyone had a recognizable spoon to show for their efforts and a new set of skills to apply to more complicated projects.

Thank you to ASU Metals chair, Becky McDonah, grad student extraordinaire Lynette Andreasen, and everyone who attended my workshops or lecture!

Wooden Chain

2009-11-10T11:52:00.000-08:00

This project has been my very own white whale for an embarrassing number of years.

It all started when I read anthropologist Simon Bonner's study of elderly woodcarvers in Pennsylvania, The Carver's Art: Crafting Meaning from Wood. Bonner's subjects were mostly retired laborers, looking for a way to way to reestablish social bonds, identity, and a sense of validity in the absence of a professional context. In ways that I found very moving, many of these men create a new niche for themselves as "trick" carvers, producing mind-boggling items such as chains, "Crown of Thorns", caged balls, and pliers. While some of the guys just carved as a solo hobby, others became demonstrators at local museums and fairs, where their abilities were justifiably appreciated. I mean, it takes a pretty jaded fairgoer not to be impressed by a guy who can turn a matchstick into a tiny, fully articulate chain.

When I read the book I was headed to Penland to teach my first ever wood jewelry class. I needed an ego boost and something to wow my students; "A-ha!" I remember thinking, "I'll whip out a wooden chain; that should impress them." The diagram included in Bonner's book made it look about as hard as connecting A to B. Here's the general principle: imagine a chain compressed and arranged so that each link is oriented perpendicular to its neighbors (the cross-section looks like a +); links A and C are butting up against each other in the middle of link B; to transform the rigid plank into a wriggly chain, "simply" cut away the material between the links.

It was vastly simpler to diagram than to do, which leads me to my long-standing beef with the majority of craft ethnographies: they're rich in detail on everything but the practical minutiae of the craft. Over the years, I've spent a lot of time trying to learn how to do odd things from such books and have almost always found that key information is missing, glossed over, or just plain wrong. When I started to pursue anthropology and my own ethnographic studies, my suspicions that many researchers don't bother to learn the technique they're writing about were largely confirmed.

Does this matter to anyone but a craft nerd who sees every craft ethnography as a potential how-to book? I think it should. When an author fails to grasp and/or attend to the very details that a craftsperson has spent years mastering, I can't help but question the validity of the ethnography's other observations and conclusions. How things are made matters, and resonates throughout an object's lifetime (for example, consider the different associations you have with a homemade chocolate-chip cookie and a Chips Ahoy).

But back to the chain. That "simple" matter of removing the wood between the links turned into a 3-year ordeal (admittedly, I made things harder on myself by choosing to make a graduated chain, fatter in the middle than at the ends). The trick I came up with (which might or might not have been used by Bonner's informants--who knows?) is a little harrowing: carve away as much wood between the links as you possibly can, using successively smaller tools, then hold your breath and snap the remaining wood (not the links themselves, ideally). Once the links are free you can work them around to get at the leftover splinters with your knife.

Having freed the final link, I was unable to put my not-quite-finished chain aside. That same night I fastened it (pencil marks, bloodstains and all) around my neck with a handmade padlock, and headed off to an event at the Seattle Art Museum. At the museum I joined an informal tour led by Dan Webb, a fantastically talented Seattle-based carver whose work is in the SAM collection. When I approached Webb afterwards to compliment him on his work, he asked me about the chain. I went red and started to stammer that it wasn't finished, wasn't very good, etc. Webb stopped me: "I've carved a few chains, and that is a good chain."

Maybe there's something to the notion of establishing an identity through trick carving after all.

Wood Jewelry Class at Pratt

2009-10-20T10:21:00.000-07:00

Jewelry that Grows on Trees
October 17-18, Pratt Fine Arts Center

It was my first time teaching at Pratt and I couldn't have asked for a better experience. All 12 students showed up raring to go, despite Saturday's treacherous downpour.

Some had experience with wood, others with jewelry, but everyone was pleased to find how well their skills applied to creating wooden jewelry. Check out the gallery below to see some of the amazing work produced in just two short days!

Want to hear about the class from a student's POV?

Signs of Life Opening

2009-10-11T10:18:00.000-07:00

Signs of Life 2009
Facere Jewelry Art Gallery
October 7-28

Every year the Facere Gallery puts together a show with an interesting twist: each invited artist submits a photo of a major work, which is then is given to a writer to serve as inspiration for a poem, essay, or story. The two are published together in a lovely glossy journal.

The exhibition of the submitted works opened on October 7. A number of the artists and writers showed up for a public presentation beforehand, where we showed slides and read passages from the journal. It was fantastic to meet so many of the participants, to see their work, and to hear the stories read aloud--it really brought the whole project to life!

My catalog piece was Choros, a necklace made of 11 torsos carved in the classical style. In the accompanying short story, writer Erica Baumeister cannily describes a visit to the Louvre--the very place where I got the idea for this piece.

I also submitted a large maple pendant, Veneer (not shown), that looks sort of abstract but is in fact a portrait of Victoria Beckham's overengineered cleavage, and two brooches depicting cleavage of another kind. I carved the plain version, Low Rise (below, middle), a while ago, after trying in vain to find jeans that were neither matronly nor obscene. Further thoughts on sacral display led to Swallowtail (below, top), which is "tattooed" with a wood-burning tool, and Formline (below, bottom), whose lacquered thong also alludes to the sinuous lines seen on much native Northwest Coast art.

Doll parts

2009-03-05T10:07:00.000-08:00

My repressed childhood preoccupation with dolls seems to be resurfacing. This pearwood piece-in-progress is made up four unattached limbs that can be restacked into different configurations--doll as building blocks. My friend Gary's trenchant assessment: "So did Hans Bellmer and Louise Bourgeois meet in a dark alley?"

Ruffled

2009-03-01T21:18:00.001-08:00

I've been wearing this carved maple cuff around Manhattan today, and as far as I can tell, no one has taken any notice of it.

On the other hand, I have been getting an unusual number of complements on my dark pink leather gloves (which are thin enough that I can wear the cuff on top of them).

Hanging at the Baum

2009-02-27T07:35:00.000-08:00

I just spent the day at the Baum School in central Allentown, PA, where my friend Janna Gregonis teaches jewelry classes. The Baum is a fantastic regional resource for artists of all ages and the jewelry students are an enthusiastic mix; I squeezed into the bench between a high-spirited emergency room PA and a white-haired firecracker celebrating 61 years of marriage (or to be specific, "Twelve good years!").

My own "studio" is comprised of hand tools stuffed into a plastic box, so I get a little tunnel-vision when I have the chance to use torches, rolling mills, anvils, and the like. I worked on 4 rings, including 2 cocktail honkers that I started planning last year when such things were in style. Since I never really had much basic training as a metalsmith Janna had to provide some coaching, and I can now say with certainty that if I lived within a 3-state radius I'd sign up for her classes.

Glance

2009-02-25T09:58:00.001-08:00

Another carved alder panel--similar to Daphne, but Glance is a single panel and the eye is considerably larger.

Well Done

2009-02-24T12:34:00.000-08:00

In addition to my recent forays into larger work (by which I mean 6 inches rather than 2), I've also been trying to relax my finishes a little, to leave something to chance or nature. Hence, I've been soaking pieces in water, throwing them down the stairs, or, as here, going after them with a hot torch and a vigorous wire brushing. This example is beech (I think), about 11".

Wooden Earrings at the Y

2009-02-23T16:55:00.000-08:00

I had an absolutely fantastic time leading my wooden earring workshop at the 92nd St. Y over the weekend. Two days is not a lot of time to adjust to a new material, but my students threw themselves into it and made some very hot earrings.

We learned how to use woodworking tools and how to appropriate metal-working tools for our purposes.

We learned how to enhance wood's natural properties and how to transform them by using gold leaf, makeup, paint, a steam iron, or fire.

Check out Margaux Lange's stunning cherry earrings with silver pique and resin inlay (why didn't I think of that!?!?).

Prufrock

2009-02-20T17:58:00.000-08:00

I had a great friend in college who was a fellow fan of TS Eliot. We used to quote "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock" to each other, especially the heartbreaking bit:

Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach?
I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach.
I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.

I do not think that they will sing to me.

This torque is my meditation on the longing and timidity expressed in that passage. The loop is solid oak, the hands are boxwood.

Gearing up for Earrings

2009-02-17T16:49:00.000-08:00

I'm off to New York in about, oh, 3 hours (!), to teach a weekend workshop at the 92nd St Y. The class will focus on wooden earrings like the demo pieces pictured above. I'll emphasize using readily available tools and materials to achieve a wide range of effects.

The students will have only 2 days in the studio (Friday and Sunday, with Saturday off), so I'm trying to think of ways to help them hit the ground running. Since I didn't really get hooked on woodworking until I'd tried a number of kinds of wood and learned to appreciate their different properties, I've put together class pack that include 11 kinds of wood, as well as bamboo and a tagua nut; above, my pack factory.

I know I've forgotten something!

Daphne

2009-02-14T18:04:00.000-08:00

Daphne was inspired by the Greek myth about a woman who escaped a god's lecherous advances by turning into a tree. I've always assumed the myth itself was inspired by the ease with which one can perceive human bodies and features in trees and wood grain.

The two panels of alder, each about the size of a sheet of paper, are shallowly carved and lightly painted with gouache. The panels are unattached and changing their relationship to one another changes the expression of the eyes.

Tucker

2009-02-10T19:54:00.000-08:00

Since Christmas was canceled due to snow, my parents and I just now got together to exchange gifts. For my dad, I carved a small sculpture of our mini white schnauzer, Tucker, napping in a tiny heat-conserving ball.

Stuffed Bears

2009-02-02T21:12:00.000-08:00

Thanks to all my reproducing friends, I've recently rekindled my childhood passion for making stuffed animals. These floppy polar fleece bears are destined for my faux nephew, Thomas, and my friend Yukari's impending baby. I hope they enjoy them as much as I did!

Choros

2009-02-01T19:46:00.000-08:00

This necklace-in-progress (currently held together with dental floss) is based on images I took last year of damaged classical statues at the Louvre. It's far and away one of the most challenging pieces of jewelry I've ever attempted, and I'm still not sure how it will work out. The wood is holly; some sections of the block were dead white, others have a blueish tinge.

Little Ladies

2009-01-30T20:03:00.000-08:00

After years of attacking the human figure one feature at a time, I've started trying to tackle the whole thing--albeit in miniature. The figures pictured here are around 5" tall.