Class Album: Wood Jewelry at Pratt

 

Jewelry That Grows on Trees 

Pratt Fine Arts Center, October 27-28

My fall wood jewelry class at Pratt has become an annual tradition that I look forward to even more than sweater weather and almost as much as the return of brussels sprouts.  I always count on the weekend's students for an injection of ideas and energy, and this batch certainly didn't disappoint!

Class Album: Multnomah Arts Center II

Jewelry That Grows on Trees
Multnomah Arts Center, October 6-7 2012

I had another great weekend teaching at Portland's Multnomah Arts Center.  As usual, it was as much an educational experience for me as for my students; I gave them my same old wood jewelry spiel and they cranked out another gallery full of work like nothing I've seen before.  Also, I learned that there is such a thing as Competitive Frisbee Dancing.  Who knew?  

Review: Centrum Explorations Class

Centrum Explorations
March 4-9, 2012

For 39 years Centrum's Explorations program has been offering Washington state middle schoolers the opportunity to spend a week in a frenzy of creative activity. Each day students take four of eight possible classes; the 2012 offerings were marimba, hip-hop dancing, taiko drumming, songwriting, creative writing, drawing, theatre, and wood jewelry. Students live, eat, and study on the campus of Fort Worden, an historic army base on the Olympic Peninsula (seen "Officer And a Gentleman"?), burning off whatever energy they have left after class by combing the beach or clambering around the hillside fortifications.

I had planned for the setting to play a big role in my class, as a source of both inspiration and raw materials, but we didn't get off to an auspicious start. On the first morning I hustled my 2-hour "core" group out the door for a hike that I fulled expected to turn them into raving naturalists and avid found-object jewelers. We'd been outside about ten minutes when the temperature fell and the skies opened. I called a retreat and we returned to the classroom totally soaked, clutching a few waterlogged twigs in our frozen fingers.

Inspired by Fort Worden in a different way, we soldiered on. Each student picked a piece of wood that he or she found especially appealing and drew its portrait, paying particular attention to attractive lines, knots, bits of lichen, etc.














On day two, it snowed. But luckily our wet twigs from the day before had dried out somewhat, so we got to work learning the about jewelers' saws, filing and sanding, drilling, gluing, and joining pieces with wire elements or string.














The students also learned to work with commercially available wood such as sheets and dowels, using it alone or in conjunction with their found-wood elements. It was very exciting for me to watch the students take the same information and run in different directions; for example, some patient types went in for making lengths of chain out of tiny jump rings, while others tackled ambitious sculptural designs.














And as usual, the woodburning tool proved popular--so popular, alas, that it pooped out before the end of the class.














Towards the end of the week, the activity ratcheted up as we all rushed to finish work for a final showcase attended by all the other students, as well as many parents had teachers who came up especially for the evening. We arranged the table to give visitors some insight into the whole process, with everything from raw wood and first-day drawings to works-in-progress and finished pieces on custom made stands.













Budget willing, Centrum takes place in the spring of each year. Although wood jewelry won't necessarily always been part of the roster, the lineup of classes is guaranteed to be enticing. If you know of any middle schoolers who would jump at the chance to attend art camp, check out the Explorations information on Centrum's website.

Penland Educators' Retreat

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.

Pratt 2011 Class Gallery

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.

Lucy Sarneel Workshop: What's in an Image

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!