
All of the pieces that I produce begin as sheet metal and wire.
The patterns that you see are inlays rather than surface applications.
All objects are hollow constructions, fabricated with the use of
simple hand tools and an acetylene torch. There is no lathe-work,
no casting, no mass-production techniques of any kind.
The
patterns on the pieces are the result of two different types of
inlay. The first is known as marriage of metal, and results
in a graphic image with crisp edges. Marriage of metal is done
by precisely cutting different metals, using a jeweler's
saw, and fitting
them together like a jigsaw puzzle. All of the seams are flooded
with silver solder, and the patterned sheet is then used in the
construction of the object. Once the construction is completed,
the surface is
hand-filed and sanded so that the various metals create a smooth,
uniform surface. If you were to cut one of these objects open,
you would see the same pattern on the inside as you see on
the outside.
The
other type of inlay that I do doesn't really have a precise
name. I call it hammered inlay. This process begins with
a flat sheet
of silver. I flood the sheet with silver solder and then arrange
pieces of other alloys on the surface and re-flow the solder. The
next steps involve repeated hammering and annealing until the applied
alloy is finally imbedded into the sterling sheet. Once imbedded,
I again use the patterned sheet to construct the object and then
file, sand and finish the surface so that it's smooth and consistent. While I may occasionally make a second or third version of a
tabletop object, I never duplicate them. Most are true one-of-a-kind
pieces.
If I design a wearable item that is successful, I will produce
anywhere from 6 to 50, until monotony pushes me on to the
next design.
I have no assistants, no employees and do not send any components
out to be done by someone else. With the exception of common jewelry
findings, such as posts, clips, chains, etc., I use no commercially
produced components. The prices of the pieces reflect material costs, labor, vision
and creativity, and the fact that it took many years of training
and
experience to develop the skills needed to create this work.
INSPIRATIONS,
OPINIONS AND APPRECIATION
Creativity,
and the forces that awaken and perpetuate it, are fragile things-the
origins of which elude
me. I have always
loved antiques;
been fascinated by the art and craft of ancient civilizations;
been inspired by architecture; and have often found peace
in the beauty
of nature. I've been drawn to Scandanavian crafts, African
textiles, Japanese graphics—but, most importantly, have let
all of these
influences inform my aesthetic sensibilities rather than
become direct sources.
At
times, my tabletop objects inspire my jewelry, and at times—the
opposite. One of the wonderful aspects of making each piece myself
is that, often, in the process of making, the objects grow away
from the original vision.
Through
out school, and into my first few years of juried shows, I assumed
that, surely, everyone understood the value and importance
of genuinely hand-made objects. I was shocked-horrified even—well,
okay, somewhat disappointed-to discover that some people simply
don't care how an object is made, or by whom, or whether
by a machine or
human hands. I, personally, have always believed that a one-of-a-kind
object is inherently different from an object that exists in multiples.
Not that it is 'better,' necessarily; simply that it is genuinely
unique and consequently more 'precious.' It is not always safe to assume, even at the finest art and craft
shows, that the artist in the booth made each piece with his or
her own hands, nor that there are not dozens more waiting
to be put on
display after you purchase yours. IF it matters to you, ask questions
and listen carefully. I am genuinely grateful to those of you who have appreciated
and purchased my work over the years, and who recognize the
importance
and relevance of objects created by a craftsman's own hands.
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