Friday, April 11, 2014
Making jewelry is a process of building. As wearers, we can carry microcosmic structures built to enshire the unique, the quirky edifices of power that we inhabit when we don beauty.
When I make a necklace, using components I've not used before, shaped differently and with different accommodations for attachment, it is a voyage of invention. I love a world where there are no pre-made patterns, no drawings to follow, and few rules. Where the resources are looking at things that have been done before and then going out and building a bridge to where you want to go.
Often the result of this kind of thinking for me is metaphorically falling a long distance when the bridge doesn't cover the span of my limited knowledge to the realization of the object I was trying to create. Sometimes it's a new morph of what I meant to do, which I can happily claim. Or just something that I will spend remorseful minutes ripping apart, beads flying everywhere.
But when it works, and I've invented a way to make something join to something using fiber, cable, tiny bits of metal and thousands of little beads, my rolypoly minions, that's reward enough.