By way of introduction - In 2008 I received a grant from Creative New Zealand, the government arts funding agency, to travel to Europe and give some lectures about New Zealand contemporary jewellery. I’m a trained art historian who started writing about jewellery a couple of years ago, and quite quickly I became aware of my ignorance regarding the international jewellery scene – and how important it was for me to make connections with jewellers and writers living overseas. The grant let me travel to America, England, the Netherlands, Germany and France. Here’s a somewhat fanciful record of some of the things that happened to me along the way.
Making connections in San Francisco - New Zealand jewellery has very few historic links to American jewellery. We have looked to Australia, our closest neighbour, and then to Europe. We know a bit about European jewellery, thanks to the pioneering connections of Warwick Freeman (who has, since the late 1980s exhibited in the Netherlands and Germany), and to Lisa Walker (who moved to Munich, studied with Otto Kunzli, and married Karl Fritsch). But we know very little about America. If you asked me about contemporary American jewellery, I would tell you it is narrative and figurative and quite different to European jewellery.
In San Francisco I’m given the catalogue Beyond the Obvious: Rethinking Jewelry, which features the work of Jamie Bennett, Lisa Gralnick, Keith Lewis, Bruce Metcalf, Sondra Sherman and Kiff Slemmons. Looking at it proves beyond doubt that American jewellery is good quality – serious, committed, with a developed language. (I don’t always understand this language, but exposure to new things is why I’m travelling.)
I’m sure an American reader would be shocked that I could possibly imagine their jewellery to be anything other than excellent. But in New Zealand we assume that any battle between American and European jewellery would see a victory for the European makers because it is so much better. After actually seeing some work (in this catalogue, at Velvet Da Vinci gallery, and in Susan Cummins’s collection), I’m not so sure. I start to get excited because I’m coming close to hitting the edges of my preconceptions, my own blindness. Assuming American jewellery is good means I need to get rid of the expectations and beliefs that stop me from seeing it properly. I’m going to be able to identify the values that I’ve inherited without thinking, take a good look at them and either keep them or throw them out.
All the schmuck in the world - The Schmuckmuseum in Pforzheim must be a highlight of any jewellery lover’s museum experiences. To be honest, it gives me a case of culture shock. I’m torn between feeling sorry for European contemporary jewellers, who have to deal with the weight and excellence of the past; and feeling envious, because they get to experience the rich diversity and history of jewellery, to know they are part of a tradition that stretches back into antiquity. I suppose this is what makes European contemporary jewellery so good: not everything is possible here, there are rules and traditions that demand to be respected, and if you are going to make a contribution then your work will have to contribute something impressive to a centuries long dialogue.
I feel a bit conflicted. On the one hand, how lucky we are to live in New Zealand where the jewellery past sits so lightly on our shoulders; and on the other, how much easier it is for us to get away with work that isn’t anywhere near as good or as historically literate as it should be.
Coming from New Zealand, it is very noticeable to me that ethnic adornment is missing from the historical galleries. A little bit of Asian and Indian jewellery makes it into the historical gallery, and some European folk jewellery is also included. But it is made clear that adornment from the Pacific, or Africa, say, is quite different to the gems that fill this part of the museum.
My unease grows when I see the Eva and Peter Herion collection of ethnographic jewellery. The wall text says that ‘Eva and Peter Herion visit the refuges of traditional societies to acquire outstanding testimony to past forms of life and exquisitely crafted art before these societies have fallen victim to the inexorable advance of modernisation.’ There are some fantastic examples of adornment here, and the gallery works on a rotating display that covers every culture eventually. (When I visited India, Africa, Papua New Guinea, Namibia and Northern Thailand were on display.)
But there are some real problems, such as the lack of dates for any of the objects, in marked contrast to the careful chronology given to the European historical jewellery. These objects are static, mythic, trapped outside history, their timelessness critical to their authenticity as evidence of dying cultures. These objects desperately need to be allowed back into time, as the work of cultures that are changing and adapting – rather than being eradicated – by the modern world. This is a very old-fashioned way to present other cultures, and a surprise in a museum that is otherwise so innovative.
Dealing with Dutch identity - Before heading overseas I made contact with two jewellers living in Amsterdam whose work particularly interested me. Terhi Tolvanen was originally from Norway, and her work appealed because of its particular take on nature. She uses natural materials like wood, shell, and stones, and conducts these subtle and intelligent interventions which both respect the found quality of the material and undermine it. Peter Hoogeboom is a Dutch jeweller whose work has a kind of ethnographic feeling. He makes these wonderful necklaces that feel ‘primitive’ but you can’t pin down what culture they are from.
For me, thinking about these jewellers is really thinking about identity. Issues of ethnicity and place have been big for us back home, and New Zealand jewellery is full of references to Maori (the indigenous people) and Pacific Island cultures, as well as nature and unique natural materials. It is part of how we have established a place for ourselves in the world. The same is not true for Dutch jewellery, which, being in the centre of international jewellery, doesn’t use place or identity to define itself. Dutch jewellery isn’t good because it is Dutch – it’s good because it is the best jewellery being made, period. (At least, that’s what the Dutch will tell you!) A few people I met asked what did it matter where they came from? What exactly was the Dutchness of Dutch jewellery? Clogs and cheese? Windmills?
Terhi Tolvanen told me a wonderful story about nature, which helped me think about these issues. While she was studying at the Rietveld Academy in Amsterdam, she went on a class trip to a forest. Seeing a mushroom, she went to kick it. Her classmates said, why are you kicking the mushroom? Someone else might like to look at it. I laughed when she told me this, since in New Zealand, just like in Norway, there are hundreds of mushrooms, and of course you kick them. But in the Netherlands, nature isn’t natural or bountiful as it is in other parts of the world. It is a threat, something to be controlled and dominated or ordered and treasured.
Similarly, with Peter Hoogeboom’s work, the dynamic is so different to home, where borrowing motifs or the style from indigenous jewellery would be called cultural appropriation, a kind of theft. When I asked Peter if anyone had ever accused him of cultural appropriation, he said, who would say that to me? Just then I saw the huge difference between his world and mine. At the centre of empire, where objects have flowed from the colonies for centuries, there is no one to challenge what you do. In a colony like New Zealand, the native people will hold you to account.
All of which made me realise that when I talk about the effects of identity I don’t mean obvious national identity – the cheesy signs of being Dutch, or American, or a New Zealander that you can buy in souvenir shops. Rather, I’m referring to habits of mind. It must affect you when you live in a country that is effectively under water, in which the ocean is a dangerous force to be overcome. It must affect you when you live in a historically powerful colonial country, the centre of the world for three centuries. I know these issues are not the only way to think about contemporary jewellery, but should they be acknowledged? What do you gain, or lose, when you bring them into the conversation?
Bonjour bijou - Almost everyone I encountered in Germany, the Netherlands and England agreed that France is a kind of black hole, an absence and void in the map of European jewellery. I was often questioned as to why, in a trip to see and meet European jewellers and their work, I would go to Paris. The general belief was that nothing much had happened in France since Lalique did some quite cool things with bijoux (jewellery) in the early twentieth century.
Arriving in Paris, I discovered a contemporary jewellery scene, met a number of jewellers, attended an exhibition opening, and even got a copy of Also Known as Jewellery, a catalogue for an exhibition of French jewellery curated by Christian Alandete and Benjamin Lignel that is currently touring to galleries in England, America, Italy and Germany. That show was organised by La Garantie, an association for French contemporary jewellery, so they even have an institution dedicated to promoting their work. Not too shabby for a practice that isn’t supposed to exist.
Most surprising for me were the similarities between France and New Zealand. There are few internationally known French jewellers (Monika Brugger and Frederic Braham being the most famous), just as we really only have two jewellers (Warwick Freeman and Lisa Walker) with significant reputations overseas. Just like us, the French are starting to utilise networks and connections, working hard to insert themselves into European jewellery. Just like New Zealand, but unlucky when you consider how many more people live in France (61 million versus 4 million), they only have a few jewellery schools. And, same in both countries, the length of time spent studying jewellery is too short, a few years only. Unlike New Zealand, France has very few galleries (public or private) committed to showing and supporting contemporary jewellery.
The case of French jewellery shows what can be done by a few enthusiastic, talented and committed people; and it is a good reminder that there are always people worse off than New Zealand jewellers. It’s also a depressing reminder of how hard it can be to get invited to the party of contemporary jewellery, how little the scene cares for anything off the radar or out of site.
Transit trauma
On the train from Pforzheim to Amsterdam, I decide that I am never going to write about New Zealand jewellery again. Apart from a few exceptional individuals, it just isn’t good enough to take its place in a world jewellery story. I’m only going to write about European and American jewellers, the very best in the world. I start to plan which international city I’ll live in.
A few days later, on the train from Amsterdam to Paris, I decide I am never going to write about anything other than New Zealand jewellery. Forget Europe, I LOVE New Zealand and everything about it. If the rest of the world is too stupid to see the brilliance of contemporary jewellery from that beautiful island I call home, then they can all get lost. I vow never to go overseas again.
Sitting on the train to the Munich airport, about to fly back to New Zealand, I realise that I’ve just experienced the point of travelling overseas. You lose your innocence and certainty. New Zealand contemporary jewellery is neither the worst nor the best in the world. My travels have confirmed that New Zealand is a small country which will only ever play a small role in world jewellery. But it has also shown me that there’s a lot to be gained from the viewpoint you get at the bottom of the world. When you know you’re not the centre of things, you end up less inward looking than those people who live in culturally powerful countries, and have no need to worry about what might be happening anywhere else.
New Zealand jewellery can foot it with the rest of the world, and it has a place in the discussion just as much as jewellery from any other country. It’s not bad to be reminded that hard work and excellence are requisites for success. I start to wonder what my next trip overseas will teach me, and realise I can’t wait to get home