Purple Rain: Sterling and .999, labrodorite cabs, beads, sugilite cabs, faceted amethyst, and amethyst beads.

When I started the layout for this piece, I knew it was going to be a challenge to finish by Mardis Gras.  I slid in just in time.  Purple and green was the idea, and the song, “Purple Rain was the inspiration.”  But, that was 14 cabs and 44 hand-cut beads ago, back when I still had fingerprints.  14 faceted 2mm amethysts, 10 sugilite cabs, and four labrodorite cabs set inside the sectionals, make up this piece, and the beads that weren’t cut by me, were selected from genuine gemstone strands absconded from Lora’s vault.

sketch, rough, and metalwork

The idea was to mix the purple with the green and blue flashy labrodorite.  Labrodorite conjures up a magical feeling to me.  It is always changing colors in the light, with shifts in flash and luminescence, making it a bear to photograph, arrrg!  And, the labrodorite, when not flashing looks so dead and waxy on film.

I envisioned this to be about the new changes, that something different in the air.  Lora had suggested using the song “Ebony and Ivory” as inspiration for this piece, but when I got home I started going through my albums to find that old song, and ran into this Prince song.  I put it on and realized that it was more about now than yesterday.  When I remember back on the 80’s, it’s not all about bad hair and plastic pants.  For me, it was about my first car, my first girlfriend, and my first Mardi Gras.  But, today Mardis Gras has new meaning after Katrina and a change in concepts concerning race here in the Deep South after Obama.  A sober amethyst and sweet sugilite purple, majestically painted in stone, with the mysterious labrodorite greenish blues with flashes of yellow, green, and sky blues.  The metal has been etched with patterns inspired by entopics, with a rain of purple trickling down into the pools of swamp-water infected with a deep magical glisten with the color of gators, incantations, voodoo dolls.

Close up of beads

Behind the fake plastic bead culture of parade watchers and Bourbon Street tourist traps, behind the plastic cups filled with sugar and cheap rum are the men and women coming together in a time of celebration, carnival - just before we all take to our fasting, abstaining, preparing for a new summer of faith.  Masks magically transforming the dancers.  The drums incite the inner beasts.  The women adorned in festival costumes, heavily cleavage, pulsing heartbeats throbbing in their exposed necks, sultry.  And, prayers asked to release all of the human sin ticked off on jade and amethyst beads of the rosary.  Carnal knowledge is passed around the waves of bodies like a bad rumor, only to be hidden in a deeper magic.  I hope to have invoked the spirit of “Purple Rain” with this piece.  And, I only want to see her wear it, beneath the purple rain.  If you know what I’m talking about, just raise your hands :o)

close up

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I found a great internet source for all sorts of things, archive.org.

Microsoft has scanned tons of old books and put them on here, plus music, videos, and there is even a powerful library, where everything that has been posted to the internet is archived.  You can search for websites that no longer exist, or you can see what a website looked like 5-10 years ago.

But, mainly I wanted to share a few finds related to our field. Here is a search query of all out of copyright books on the subject of jewelry.

Here is an 1903 textbook for aspiring jewelers.  I love that it shows you how to make your own tools, and spouses that a true professional jeweler would never buy a tool.  This is a hobbyist thing to do :o)
Note the page on blowtorches.  It is funny that folks get so worried about which torch is best to buy.  In 1903 the professional jeweler used a Bunsen burner with a blowpipe attachment.  This is full of very low tech alternatives to doing exactly what that high tech world does.  Worth a thumb through.

Try searching this site for “ornaments”, “silver,” “gold”, “lapidary.”  It is an awesome resource.

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Alabama has some of the most iron rich soil in the world. You can literally squeeze the rust out of the mud. Almost every town of any significance has a mine, quarry, smelt, furnace, or ancient rolling mill dating back to the Civil War. And, a bi-product of producing iron with our own locally quarried limestone, is a beautiful (almost florescent) green slag, which to a layman looks very much like a natural green glass which has gained popularity in the recent years.

For some strange reason I seem to attract the most lovable of the weirdest of folks. My studio is a corner of the only real bead shop in our state, which brings folks in from other states to shop. Lora, my girlfriend, owns and operates the bead shop, and I just do my own thing in a glassed in corner. Yep, I am the jeweler in the aquarium, lol. It even has a sign posted, “Don’t feed the artist.” I would like to also point out that I am not a gemologist. I am not a geologist. In fact geology was the only class I struggled with in college. But, being in a bead shop, we get lots of interesting characters that travel through selling beads, gems, rocks, and sometimes false hopes. And, I have picked up on a few things.

A few years ago, we had a guy come in. He was Middle Eastern and said that he was just in from Mexico, and he was doing his best to pretend to have a Hispanic accent. He wanted to sell me some moldavite. I have had some experience with glass, having dabbled with lampworking, and I also knew that moldavite was a variation of natural glass. It is commonly believed that it was formed after an extraterrestrial impact drove minerals into the air in molten form, a huge impact. But, this “moldavite” had a suspiciously familiar look to it. I compared it to some straw cast silver that I had. The guy was getting nervous and edgy. I put on my magnifiers and saw that they had similar shapes, and I even saw bits of straw still in the chunks. Before I could say anything else, he grabbed his “stones” and walked out the door. So, I took that as verification that it was a melted Mountain Dew bottle poured over straw. Once again, I may have been wrong. I do have a nice selection of Germanic moldavite from very reputable dealers, but I am not GIA certified at all. Usually I don’t care about the investment value of stones, but I don’t want to claim something is one thing and it is actually something else.

Very recently, Lora gives me a call telling me that there is someone else wanting to sell me moldavite. I asked her how much, and with a brief pause on the phone to relay the info, she tells me that he needs to talk to me in person.
“Hmmm, is he one of your regular gemstone or bead vendors?”

“No, I don’t know him, but he refuses to sell it to me. He wants to talk to you.”

“OK, tell him to come back in a few hours.”

Lora gave me the “eye of warning” as I walked through the door. One of the guys was about 18 and was dressed like Emenem. The other was a dead-on look alike of Bob Marley. I don’t usually judge books by there cover, but I sensed an unusual bit of weirdness had walked into my lair. If they had come in looking for wire or rough gems for some extreme hippie wire wrapping, I would have been a little more comfortable.

Birmingham, Alabama, has been on the CIA’s most dangerous cities in the world list since the 60’s. And, I have had to disarm several would-be muggers. And, I have given up several wallets. I don’t carry a weapon, because I’d rather live without my wallet or with a wound than to live with killing on my conscience. So, needless to say I approached these gentlemen as carefully as possible.

They had an old Dallas Cowboy’s gym bag full of rocks. And, I immediately recognized the green rocks as slag from iron pours that I used to pick-up along railroad tracks of my youth. Alabama has very distinctive slag. Back when they were building the railways through the state and extending them during the Civil War, this slag was poured into the railway beds as ballast. Now, it works its way up through the denser limestone gravel, like fist-sized chunks growing up from the gravel.

Bob Marley started in with a very well rehearsed speech about Alabama moldavite. I just sat down and listened respectfully to his rap about how he has struggled getting the University of Mississippi to give him certification that the green slag before me was moldavite. He showed me paper after paper showing that this was in fact not moldavite. Then he pulls out a hand-written letter. The letter pronounced that this was in fact moldavite that was formed deep within the earth and had pushed its way up; signed with a name I couldn’t read nor would recognize. Bob explained to me that his kids had been harvesting this moldavite for him for years. He went on to say that gemstones have energy. They radiate this energy, and with this amount of energy you could power cars and houses. Bob stated that he had actually seen with his own eyes someone conjure someone from the dead. I just politely asked if it was a Union spirit or a Confederate spirit. Bob just gave me a puzzled look. Emenem just sat staring at his expensive tennis shoes.

“Bob,” I said, “did you find this next to a railroad track?”

You’d have thought that I had just read his mind and told him his mother’s maiden name. And, I tried as respectfully as possible to explain the origins of the rocks in his hands, and how moldavite is actually formed.

A very big grin crossed his face, and he dug down to the bottom of the Gym bag, pulling out a very large specimen. And, he explained that this piece was his retirement investment. It was a very large green slag specimen that still had some rusty iron deposits and limestone gravel stuck to it. It did look very natural, if you weren’t aware of what you were looking at. He was obviously very far from retirement.

Bob explained that this specimen demonstrates how moldavite is formed from iron and limestone. This very piece was germination in process between these two materials as it formed into moldavite. I wasn’t sure if he was truly that ignorant of the subject, maybe brainwashed by some other charlatan, which would be forgivable. Or, was he working this hard to consciously swindle me? I’m pretty sure that I look as stupid as one might assume, but this guy seemed to have had his share of some very interesting Kool-Aid.

I thanked the gentlemen for giving me their time, and out of curiosity I asked them their price. Bob immediately told me $20 a carat. I laughed and asked them how many carats they thought that the baseball sized chunk weighed. Bob quizzically replied, “Weighed? This is 24 carat moldavite.”

I chuckled, and I pulled out my scales to show him the difference in carats and karats. And, I explained that I appreciated his sales pitch. But, that I would gladly give him $20 for the 3 pound chunk of “moldavite.” This would give him gas money to get away from me. But, I also explained that I did not believe for one minute that this was moldavite. But, it would be nice to have for my display case of gems and minerals, showing off the indigenous slag. I figured $20 would cover how much I would have spent on gas and time collecting it myself at the railroad bed down the road.

I handed him a $20 bill, and as they were walking out the door Emenem asked me if I was interested in some Alabama Navajo arrowheads, LOL.

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So, I sometimes see folks in the craft of jewelry debating whether their work is art, or whether jewelry can be art at all. I would surmise that the first obstacle to this question is, “what is art?”

Back in what seems like millenniums ago, in my MFA program I was asked to present and defend a thesis on the nature of art. I wasn’t making jewelry then; I was a printmaker and painter. But, this required me to sink into hibernation within my brain cavity and find the magical source of the fountain of true art, which may explain my insanity today. The traditional definition is to define art as an object or event, and since this has to be redefined every now and then to fit contemporary and Avant Garde advances in the arts, I threw all of these out of the window. Thus I came up with a new language of defining “ART.”

This is just my aesthetic thesis on the subject; please feel free to criticize whatever you want. I am not a set-in-stone kind of guy. I believe that the way we define the world around us is always in flux, and nothing should become static.

There are two types of things in this world, art and ordinary.

Art is a value. It is not a thing; however, the word is used as a noun instead of an adjective. Each of us has a yardstick to measure the value of an object within our own conceptions and perceptions. This yard stick is different for each of us, and is affected by our social, economical, ethnic, sexual make-up (and age). Each of us trains our yardstick each time we view or experience something. It is in flux. I view some things when I was a kid, and I placed the value of art upon them. But, now I see them as ordinary now.

Art happens during the creative or critical process. Yes, the viewer plays an active roll within this process.

The creative process is the process by which something is created or done. We do it all day everyday in all things. I think of something, I do it. Driving to the store is a process of inspiration and divinity. My girlfriend wants ice cream, and this inspires me to make it happen. This is ordinary.

However, if a phenomenon occurs within this process, the end results may have the value of art. Steven Spielberg is famous for elevating his creations in the sketch phase. He is known for speaking into a recorder while in the shower, where he sketches out his films. His ideas are seeds for elevating his work.

A phenomenon is magic, like when an ice drop forms in a crucible full of hot metal.

My favorite potter in my old college town elevated his work as his hands touched the clay being thrown on the wheel. He never strived for an ordinary, perfect shape. He was continuously striving to make something magical. An excellent drawer can elevate his work in the way he controls the finite tip of the graphite as it touches the surface of the paper. Thus he renders something made with magic, not an ordinary pencil point. An excellent golfer may have that moment when he controls his club to touch the ball exactly where he wants with the exact pressure and force. This is called satori; the moment of being one with your work. I try to focus on each tip of the rasp on my saw blade when I cut my work, and I try to focus my flame tip with precision. I try, but not always is the result worthy of my assessment as being “Art”. This is probably the toughest of all forms of elevating work above ordinary, as it requires practice, practice, and more practice. And, I am still practicing.

I knew a guy in grad school who was into casting rubber. He did this very well, with a sense of satori. But, the end results were still ordinary. He knew this. He had perfected his craft by making chickens. Yes, he had over 100 ordinary but excellent rubber chickens. So, the night before the critics arrived, he stapled them to a board and projected the Mona Lisa on them, and painted the Da Vinci classic upon those rubber chickens. The critics were aghast. He elevated them rubber chickens.

Duchamp elevated an ordinary urinal into a work of art, by merely placing it upon a pedestal in a museum. He called it a fountain and signed it R. Mutt. The way he displayed this ordinary thing made a statement about art and museums that elevated this thing to the level of art.

A Native American boy took off his shoes 300 years ago, and placed them in a nook in the rocks. Something occurred, and he did not retrieve them, but they were preserved till now, where they reside in a museum for us to look at. These were ordinary shoes to this little boy 300 years ago. But, they are no longer ordinary shoes. The phenomena of time elevated them to the level of art.

Now, all of these examples of phenomena are examples of but a few of the infinite ways an artist or craftsman can elevate his or her works above the level of ordinary. But, you cannot make someone believe that something they perceive as ordinary is art. And, I have by no means insinuated that “anything” can be art. This is stupid elementary teacher falsities which our culture is inundated with. Like, “art is whatever you want it to be.” “Art means whatever you want it to mean.” This is ridiculous. If you truly believe this I have a piece of limestone I found in my driveway, and I want you to think it is art, and it means that humanity is in a state of beatific decay. No, the viewer has a proactive role, which cannot be swayed by argument. One can be swayed to appreciate something as recognized as art by others, but the will cannot be bent to see beauty or art, where one does not see it.

So, art happens when a phenomenon occurs anywhere within the creative process to elevate something above the level of ordinary, anywhere within the process from conception to display of the work. And, yes it has to be displayed, for if no one sees it, how can they deem it above the level of ordinary. Thus, Aunty Erma’s watercolors she keeps hidden in the closet cannot be deemed art by people, at least till the people see them.

Can jewelry be art? I believe that it can. However, it is always upon the viewer to set this value upon the work.

So, you want to be an artist. My suggestion is to make stuff, make jewelry. Make magical stuff. And, never make ordinary jewelry.

And, I give thanks to Orchid and Ganoksin for giving us a format in which to share works and discuss issues. If you disagree with me, please comment, or if you just want to add to what I have said. There is no such thing as a bad comment :o)

I hope you enjoyed :o)

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I will set aside targeting teachers and neophytes in this blog, and I will focus on bashing polio children and endangered wildlife.  To quote a bit of Vonnegut, “The children are not our future, because by the time the time the future gets here, they’re not children anymore.”   And, “Maturity is a bitter disappointment for which no remedy exists, unless laughter can be said to remedy anything.”  For those that choose to read further, you will see that I am just kidding, and maybe you’ll get a chuckle.

I am very, very fortunate.  Every year I donate work to two different charities, the Rotarians (Yeah, Rotary!!!) and the Wildlife Protection Agency.  I also like to support the Sierra Club, but that is something entirely different.  I like to help the Rotary, because they are perpetually working to stomp out polio worldwide, and they throw a mean party.  The WPA works to save endangered wildlife, like the spotted owl and the California condor.  Personally I am a Darwinian environmentalist, let the strong survive to better evolutionary standings for these critters, but I support these guys because one day I might want or need to eat these animals.

Serpent in the Flower

This necklace I just finished up to give to the annual Rotary gala, where it will be auctioned along with other works of art to help fund immunization of children worldwide.  This in itself would have been enough of a reason for me to donate a work, but those Rotarians know how to party.  This will be my third year to donate and attend, and this year’s event will have the theme of Old Hollywood.   Open bar, live swing tunes, and dinner prepared by some of the best chefs shipped in just for this event.  Tickets are $500 a person or $3000 a table, and the auctioneer is a guy they fly in from one of the New York auction houses.  Tuxedos are required, but they always let me get by with my dinner suit, as long as I promise not to get drunk and piss on the table decorations anymore.

The work that I donated is sterling silver that I forged and fabricated, with two cabs of swamp bog that I hand-cut, along with the center stone of amethyst that I cut for this piece.  The prongs are each tube-set with rubies.  The gold on the leaves is fused and then etched for texture.  This started with a 20 gauge sheet.  The gold acts as a resist to the nitric acid, and this gives the design a little depth.  Then the work was strung with sterling beads, and the gemstone beads are apatite chips that Lora carries in the shop.  They are the types that have tassels.  Her customers know the tasseled beads to be of the “Lora’s personal stock” variety, which she keeps in the safe.  So, I was much honored that she cracked into her personal stash to allow me to finish off this work with them.

At the gala, besides being able to enjoy the bar, which carries my favorite cognac, I get to show off my mean swing, bop, and Lindy moves on the dance floor; but, I also get to make new contacts and mingle with future customers, while getting some insight into what my work will bring.  I estimate that the auction brings in a price that is 70% of what the work would sell for within a gallery setting.  Amongst the 400 guests which are industry leaders in their fields, CEO’s, and various other exec’s; there are about 50 of us local artisans who eagerly watch the bidding to get a litmus test of our works artistic value from folks that support the arts as well as philanthropic endeavors.  You will see me sweating as my work takes the stage.  It is like watching your horse round the bend as they flash their cards and up the ante (I hope).   The last two years brought in very good results, and it allowed me to set or confirm my pricing.

Since, I am not a jeweler, who sets prices based on the value of investment grade stones in market variable metals and I am not a jewelry designer who is shooting for getting picked up by a manufacturer, I have to rely on this type of auction value to set prices on my work.  This is an invisible boundary that art galleries have to tap out with a blind eye to set your prices.  There is inherent value, which can be easily derived from an appraiser, such as a GIA certified jeweler.  There is the fair market value, of which is set by the balance between creator and the market.  But, then there is the artistic value (of sorts), which is best found by auction or with time spent in the gallery scene.   This might seem a little egotistical to pursue, but why accept less for my work than I have to?

The drawbacks on pricing your work this way is limited sales.  I don’t have tons of people waiting in line to buy my works.  But, I only get to make about four pieces a month of this type.  The rest of my work is quickie earrings and simple pendants that I make to allow folks that visit my work the ability to take something home if they want.  So, just asking for fair market or inherent value for my works, would not make it beneficial for me to produce.  Galleries rely on their patron’s to set value, leaving wiggle room in pricing to appease and tap out this form of pricing.  I don’t always get what I ask for in my pricing and I sometimes go a month or so with any sales, but when a sale is made it helps me continue to produce and provide for my daughters.   I feel that I am very lucky to be able to work in this manner considering that I am virtually unknown to many.  And, it allows me to experiment with stones that might not be the first choice in a jeweler’s palate, as long as I find some creative way to use them.

In between these months of sales, I sometimes ponder my other options, fair market and such.  But, I think that if I worked as my dad did for decades as a bench jeweler, which is a trade that I totally respect, I would not be happy.  I also wouldn’t want to make something that gets mass produced.  So, for now I will enjoy working on my terms, and come Rotary gala time, I will be sweating.  And, all proceeds go to a cause that I feel is very worthy.  Otherwise, I would not be able to give such a significant amount to any of these causes.  The WPA auction is coming up soon.  It is usually a carbon copy of the Rotary’s Gala, but different place, different group fed from the same sources of entrepreneurs.  And, I get to meet and mingle with a different set of artisans and artists.

Then I will drive my truck home to my dirtfloor cabin in the woods, with a stream that runs into the Cahaba River.  The river is home to the last 30 or so Cahaba lilies in the world.  Come to think of it, they’re all dead.  It’s winter. Hmmmmm, should I buy a different suit?  Should I try not to pee on the decorations?  I wonder what type of sauce would best compliment spotted owl?  :o)

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(edit) Folks posting comments have had some excellent responses to this.  Read through them below.  Thank you. (end edit)

I have made a decision, I will teach absolutely no more classes on metalsmithing, and I will explain why.

Six years ago, my girlfriend got me interested in lampwork beads.  I got a torch and an ancient book of glass techniques (it was all that I could find).   Lampwork beads were selling for $50-500 a piece, some brought in thousands.  People were snatching up these things like hotcakes in the bead shops, shows, and anywhere.  It was sort of rare to find these, because although not new, they just were prevalent to the beaders.  And, they understood by looking at them, that time was put into these designs.

Then I noticed after a year that there was suddenly websites such as lampwork etc, and others where folks exchanged ideas.  At first it seemed harmless.  People were just sharing ideas to others working in the same field.  Then people that were making money by actually making beads, suddenly figured out that they could make more if they taught others how to do it.  These folks were good, but they just didn’t want the hassle of marketing and selling their work.  Teaching was easy money.  Now, when I go to Tucson or other gem shows, I see the rows of lampworkers all frustrated that the competition is thick, and sales become more competitive.  You can no longer make a living making glass beads.  Any yahoo with half a brain can figure it out by going online or taking a class from a self-professed guru of lampwork.  Arrowsprings Glass even over promoted this, but of course they profited by killing the industy.

Now, go to see how much a lampwork bead runs.  The good ones are even as cheap as $5, but I never see anyone pay more than $100 for one of these anymore.  And, I live with a chick that eats, sleeps, and breathes beads.

Lampwork was dead one year after I got into it.

When I got back into silversmithing and lapidary five years ago, you just couldn’t find anything online about techniques.  And, classes were limited to Penland, Revere and such.  The only book worth the money was Tim McCreight’s book, and it is even vague enough to keep know-nothings from buying a torch.  If it hadn’t of been for my training as a child through my teens, I would have had to resort to one of these high brow schools, he he.  I even had a hard time getting other silversmiths and jewelers to share ideas (at first).  Then Lapidary Arts Magazine, which was very industry oriented changed its name, and sold out to meet the flux of tons of newbies to the craft.  Many talented and semi-talented people are giving classes, so that they don’t have to actually maintain a real studio.  And, now I am seeing step-by-step tutorials everywhere online.  And, etsy.com, lol. I wish I had of come up with the idea of having others make a product, then when it doesn’t sell, I blame it on them, and have them teach each other ways to lower their prices and bring folks into the website.  They have a win/win situation.  And, they promote the death of our craft.  Or, they promote us to death.

I was guilty of this as well.  My girlfriend asked me to give one-on-one classes for an entire day for $300 a student.  At first I was reluctant.  This was time away from me getting to create.  She had tons of folks that wanted to spend the day with me (lol, go figure; they must not know how badly I smell :o).  So, she finally asked me to do it for $500 a student.  OK, that made it worth loosing time away from creating.  And, she has gotten me one student a month (at least) ever since.

Now, there are tons of folks with crème brûlée torches making stuff and competing with designers with years of experience.  Every little town in the US has a metalsmithing class somewhere.  The Podunk town of 12,000 down the road from me, has a high school with no football team, but they offer metalsmithing to the community every second Saturday of the month in the gym.  Bead shops carry jewelry tools, and there are tons of the silver clay folk out there branching out into working with the real metals.

Hmmm, what to do?  Do we wait till we can only sell our work at rock bottom prices?  Do we continue to rake in this extra money giving classes, until we ourselves are competing with hobbyist working in a back bedroom?  I personally have cancelled all classes.  I will be happy not to have to share my time, space and tools with strangers.  Damn the money.  I’ve personally seen what over-sharing a craft can do.  And, mark my words; it will inevitably happen to jewelry.  Hobby yahoos will give cut rate deals on repairs, because it’s their hobby.  Craft shows will be full of hobbyist selling $10 worth of silver that they have spent six hours rearranging, and they will sell it for $20.  Then, folks will look at something we have made and want $1000 for and laugh.  I’ve seen it happen with lampworkers.  If you want proof go to Tucson, and look at the rows of tables selling lampwork.  You will see an angry bunch :o)

And, gem shows, arrrg!!!  I could rant a whole different blog on them.  Any schmuck can get wholesale prices, so called wholesale.  You’re an idiot if you think your getting a deal.  20% off retail is not quite worth the plane ticket, especially for a true retailer.  They bring in more and more folks to spread the craft and the deals, till you will barely see either there.  But, I will stow it, lol.

Ok, in a nut shell, I want to know what you guys think.  Are we killing our craft by spreading the knowledge?  Am I being selfish?  Do I stink bad enough to warrant the full refund of $500 for a day spent with me?  He he

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I woke up this morning with silver at $11.23, the ground was frozen, and my dog had pee’d on the rug.  The man at the coin shop always cuts me a deal on my silver, I picked up thirty 90% silver coins and four, 1 oz .999 silver coins for $6.50 an oz of silver.  The deal is that I pick out the ugly, dented, and distorted coins.  This is no problem for me, because I bomb the coins in nitric acid and then alloy them down to sterling and pour sheets and wires.  I also picked up a handful of old wedding bands and rings, bags of broken promises and cheap gold.  It was a morning of warming my hands around the crucible and getting a workout on the rolling mill.  The goal was to make two lapel pins.

Brooches originated from fibulas, which men and women used to keep their capes drawn around their  necks.  They have served as adornment for hats, necks, and lapels.  They have been used to show rank, orientation, and allegiances.  These days brooches are not in traditional modern ornamentation.  It is up to the bold to wear pins, brooches, and fibulas,  making an avant garde fashion statement.

Lapel Pins, The Gift and The River, front and back

Left, The Gift; sterling silver, copper, 10k gold, Arizona petrified wood, and peridot cab.
Second, The River; sterling silver, copper, 10k gold, sugilite, and faceted peridot.  The last two are the backs.

In fact, I made these two today by request from a few gentlemen who have come by the shop, looking for something to add interest to a more conservative male wardrobe.
I selected peridot to accent these two, not only to offset these color-wise, but because it gleams best in artificial light and is associated with Leo and August, courage and pride.

I pulled from some older sketches of pendant ideas to get these ideas.  The first was spun around the Arizona petrified wood, transformation.  The second, sugilite, the stone of heart and loyalty.

My youngest daughter, 9 years old, was watching over my shoulder all day from sketch to polish.  I handed her the second one and she told me it was the sun and moon with a river running between them.  My jaw hit the floor.  My first concern was that she would one day become an art history major, the most worthless profession in all of mankind.  But, then I realized that she watched me sketch them and read my notes, lol.  She had went to the source for her interpretation.  I made a mental note to increase her vitamins as to promote her development and thwart any deficiencies that might lead to  art criticism  as a career.

The coolest part of making pins or brooches is making the mechanical parts on the back.  I grabbed some 10k wire that was on my bench and used it to make the pins.  I thought it would be clever to use the more noble metal for the part that isn’t seen.  I hardened the pins in the kiln and polished them well to make sure they had that spring when you opened them.

Meanwhile, there’s dog pee to clean up, and someone’s has to put all of the anthropology books away.  I love these long weekends.

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For the last four years I have toyed with the idea of letting my side business of designing one-of-a-kind art jewelry become my soul source of income.  That’s the dream since I left home for college.  I would survive on my creativity.  I played around with it after college, but then I was a printmaker/painter.  Footloose and fancy free driving from one gallery to the next from Chicago to New Orleans, living in my van, I had only my belly to fill, and no one relied on me for anything.  I did have a dog, but he was pretty good at fending for himself in a pinch.  I say I had a dog, but he was more or less just hitchhiking.

But, things got complicated.  As the Talking Head’s song goes, “I may find myself…” I may find myself the single full-time father of two little girls.  I may find myself, standing in a classroom, teaching high schoolers.  I may find myself living in a cabin in the woods.  I may find myself paying bills and driving a nice car.

I used to think that teaching was sort of a sell out for my artistic career, but I had to have health insurance for my daughters, feed them, and get them involved in as much as the community had to offer.  About four years ago, the artistic career seemed lightyears in the past, and I was pondering just when exactly had I crawled out of the primordial ooze to join all of the others walking on dry ground.  But, then I met Lora, my bead goddess, girlfriend, and the owner of a divine little bead shop.  While hanging out in her shop during open hours and the onslaught of our courtship, we started talking, planning, and I found myself making a place for me within her bead shop.  I don’t think either of us asked or planned it exactly.  She introduced me to silver clay (silly putty with a metalic glow) and lampwork (pyromaniacs wet dream).  But, I drew back on my days of working with my father in his jewelry store from age 8 to 18 and started making stuff with silver coins and cabs she carried in the shop.  Then I began going to rock shows and meeting lapidaries.  Next thing I knew I had a fully operational studio.

So, with the help of Lora a wonderful marketing person, my work began to sell.  First, in her shop.  Then, the local galleries.  Then, with the help of great friends my work began to spread out into art galleries in other states, calls started coming in, and things began to escalate.  I am still scrating my head sometimes.  I don’t have to do repairs. I don’t have to do custom orders, and I get to only make what interests me.

I still have the day job, but I’ve had to jack prices up to attempt to keep an inventory on hand.  This is especially hard, because I only get after school hours, weekends, and holidays to work.  Time is my greatest commodity.  Time makes $20 of materials become $400.  I also teach classes in metalsmithing in the shop in one-on-one arrangements because I was just getting persistent pleas.  I’ve jacked the prices on classes to an unreasonable rate for a one day class in basics, I give each one a flier for Penland, and I beg them to look everywhere before shelling out $700 for a day with me.  Low and behold I still have to do it occasionally.

All in all, I bring in about $500-$2000 a month on top of my teacher pay.  I do my patriotic duty and pay my taxes and register with the city and state to make the studio legit.  But, I keep wondering how much I could really make if I could work every day.  Could I make more than I do now if I quit the day job?

But, at the teaching gig, I attend meetings with the board of education, I realize that I may not be able to keep the day job anyway.  Our state and the surrounding states have fallen into proration, which means stripping the budget.  Usually this is just a lull for a couple of years to make back up the taxes that we were supposed to gather, but now we can’t because no one is spending money.  But, this time it looks very grim.  There is serious discussion about stripping education down to the 4 core curriculums.  The two areas in a school (in our state) where the teachers are not paid by the state (but by the community) is fine arts and physical education.  This is Alabama, and if one goes, it won’t be the football coach.  And, I happen not to be on the football end of education.  I am one of six art teachers within the school It’s a massive school).  And, we are all sweating.

So, begins the tug-o-war.  Should I stay or should I go?  However, I may not have a choice come next year.  But, on the other end of the rope, I have a very good friend who has been working as an artistic jeweler.  He has gone through some tough times.  He has no insurance, and he has had several serious medical emergencies which has wiped him out financially twice in the few years I have been friends with him.  He is in his older years to put it politically correct, and he has taken up a hammer and works construction to make things meet up correctly.  Square one at his age, hmmmm.

I had a potter friend of mine back in college.  He had a great ceramics studio/gallery in a small college town, main street.  His work was spread out in galleries, and he had steady patrons.  He was fit as a fiddle.  We used to drop by his shop every day after class and play hacky-sack behind his shop or all go skinny dipping as emblematic of our carefree-ness.  Then one day he spilt his hand open on a pottery shard.  A man without insurance has to make due, so he used a little super glue, patched up the cut, and got back on the wheel and kicked out a few pots.  A man has got to eat.  2 months later he was dead.  He developed an infection that spread to his heart.

Hmmm, should I stay or should I go?  If I have to go, where do I go?  Will I make it if I follow the dream?  What will the economy do?  Questions, questions.

Anyways, I’ve decided to just let the dice roll for now.  I will know by the end of summer if I have another year to spread my magic slowly and follow this path to the dream with the security of a day job.  Everything in the studio is paid for.  I am 13 years away from retirement (and a good one at that), so I’d be nuts to leave before seeing where the dice will land.  I love teaching art and design.  Plus, teaching in a subject that is different from  my passionate side business, feeds both of them, teaching and jewelry.

But, I will also play it smart.  As industries are closing its doors in surrounding areas, the state figures out how to keep the schools open, as credit debt outweighs the country’s production, and the dollar continues to drop in a global market; I have to prepare for my family to survive.  I am going to set back what I can in gold coins (currency crash) and make plans for an escape route to Canada, where I can harvest ice cubes and eat seal meat :o)

I’ve just had too much to think tonight, lol, excuse me.

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Happy KING’s Birthday And, why we won’t be at Tucson this year.
This year Lora and I have opted not to go to Tucson.  However, we have always had a blast, and I have been reflecting on past trips with some old and new friends, so I thought I would share a few tips and pointers on how to survive a trip to the gem shows there.  But, if you are looking for vender information or valid information on shows, I am not the person to get that from. It is Lora who has to go there more than I, for if I need rocks, I usually turn to friends.  But, Lora owns the bead shop where my studio is located, and she mostly restocks her inventory there.  I go to stroll through the Electric RV Park and pick up lapidary rough in various forms to add to my lapidary crayon box, and make    connections with gallery and boutique owners that may have an interest in giving me an exhibition of my work.  Manning House is the best place to meet these contacts.
My beautiful Lora in front of the Manning House
My first night there I learn an invaluable lesson, that I will pass on to fellow  southerners.  When we arrived we hit a few shows right off the bat, and I considered this an awesome vacation opportunity.  So, I cheated on my prohibition on smoking, and rolled into a convenience store to pick up some cigars.  My home state of  Alabama is run by Baptists, so liquor is taxed heavily, while tobacco is barely taxed at all.  And, we can only purchase liquor in state run store that have armed guards. But, in Tucson, you can buy liquor anywhere, and it is cheap as water, while tobacco costs an arm and a leg.  I contribute this to Catholics, may God bless them.  Because I came back with a gallon of rum and a couple of cigars. Late at night I woke up in the hotel room barely able to breathe.  My throat burned like a hot coal was stuck in my craw.  I rationalized that the cigars had given me throat cancer, and I was going to die right there.  I checked Lora, and she was still asleep, so it had to be something that I had done alone, smoked!!! So, if I was going to die, I wanted to go with as much of my pain eased as possible.  Now, I am not a drinker.  I drink on occasions, but back in college me and alcohol had a falling out, except for the rare galas we attend or New Year’s Eve  blasts.  Tuxedo = alcohol.  But, I uncharacteristically grabbed the rum, and turned that bottle up, trying to quench that fire in my throat; reasoning, even enough gasoline will smother a fire.  It didn’t work. Lora woke up, some time afterward, gasping.  Then, I realized there was  something was wrong with the air we were breathing.  THERE WAS NO humidity.  Who in the heck builds a city in a place where the air will kill you?  I ran to the  Walgreens and dropped $60 on a humidifier.  Apparently they are in demand there. We sat the rest of the night breathing in the simulated 100% humidity to soothe our Southern throats and lungs.
	One more thing most will need to know about surviving Tucson.  People there honk their horns to change lanes, make turns, or sometimes no apparent other reason at all.  The turning lanes are 90 degrees off of major roads, so you will need to hone up on your Dukes of Hazzard driving skills.  Getting off of the interstate requires surgically precise, sharp turns and good shocks.
Since Lora had to bring back hundreds of pounds of beads, we shipped some back (only after she filled up the bath tub for a bead bath:o), some venders shipped them for us, and then we decided to save a few bucks and mailed our dirty clothes back, and packed the suitcases with beads.  We picked up a cheap set of scales to make sure we didn’t exceed the airlines luggage weight limits.
	Putting beads in your luggage may seem like a great way to save money, but  when we got back, we watched out  luggage come out of the shoot looking like it had, had a TSA party hosted by homeland security.  There was  fluorescent yellow tape holding our jammed full bags together.  Strands of beads were sticking out of the seams. And, there were all sorts of sticky notes with initials and codes that looked like an 8 year old had dictated court notes for us.  We let them ride around on the carousel for a while, because we didn’t want everyone to see that WE were the terrorist suspects. All in all, Tucson is a great show for someone who has never been. We do have some gripes. 1.)  If you’re a wholesale show, do not pander to individuals at all.  If a show allowed individuals shop, we avoided them.  Tax ID’s must be required.  What store wants to compete against their own vendors?  Thus Fire Mountain can kiss our donkeys
Me weighing myself and doing math to figure out the weight of our baggage
2.)  If you are a vendor, don’t bring the same thing year after year.  You make it boring for us to revisit you. 3.)  If you host a show, make the vendors bring new stuff, or get new vendors. 4.)  If you are a vendor or someone starting out and you are not making money, don’t tell the customers that you think the show sucks.  Because we will think you have a bad attitude, and we will leave your booth alone. 5.) if someone walks up with a pad of paper and makes notes on your prices, that person may be someone scouting sites for his girlfriend, who owns a bead shop and is dropping 10 grand on booths that have good products. This was my job through most of the shows.  I dropped in on this chicks booth that had handmade findings and chains made by Hippie Chick, Hippie Girl, or some name like that, and I jotted down a few prices, made a star next to the name, and was going to tell Lora to definitely check out this booth.  Then the chick in charge of the booth jumped over the counter and accosted me.  She said that i was trying to undercut her, and I should leave her booth.  She had steam shooting out of her eyes, and her teeth were clenched hard enough to crack enamel.  As I was walking out her boyfriend grabbed the arm of my silk jacket and asked me what I was doing.  I told him that I was writing down prices as a scout for my girlfriend. He shoved me, and told me that he didn’t believe me, and he went on to explain (spitting bits of vile all over me) that he was tired of people writing down their prices and going to their own booth to mark their prices  own.  I just nodded, and crossed the name of the vendor off of my list, and the rest of the customers left with a scurry to the next vendor. Now, I can understand the vendor’s frustration, but this is business, and a professional attitude speaks louder than price tags sometimes.  My advice is to handle everyone with respect and dignity, even if the guy next door is screwing you over.  Karma goes a long way in this reality.  To this day, I warn everyone to stay clear of the vendor with the Hippie Chick name.  And, Lora runs one of the South’s largest bead shops, and she network with most of the other shops.  We went ahead and paid a few bucks more for the same types of findings from another vendor who got me coffee and lit my cigar for me.  And, when this vendor just smiled as I poured a swig of rum in my coffee from my hip flask, I knew we were going to make them very happy when Lora fills out the check for $4000. No, we are not going back this year.  Our area f the world is mostly made up of HealthSouth employees and various other healthcare providers.  People are still getting sick, so there is no economic crisis here yet.  But, we are playing it safe with our expenses.  Plus, why would we want to see the same merchandise from the same vendors.  We’ve made the contacts, so we can just call them. As for the tool shows, I prefer to make most of my own, and I am not attracted to expensive, new-fangled contraptions that claim to expatiate some various odd part of production that I enjoy doing by hand.  3M can invent all of the new sandpapers they want.  Paragon can design a kiln that also makes great toast.  And, Rio, well Rio can do what they want because they are wonderful (pssst, Rio, email me if you need to sponsor someone :o)  But, what I want is burs made of new alloys that will never go dull, blades that don’t break, and reusable casting investment.  Let the sheep be lulled by new argentinium silver alloys and such.  I’m sticking to the wisdoms of the ancients. Maybe, I will see you next year :o) Happy Birthday Elvis, where ever you are.  You’re  74.  That’s old enough to be a Republican presidential candidate :o)
	…this was another Cosmic Folklore

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