AJF promotes art jewelry to a broader audience by sponsoring influential speakers to reflect on contemporary art jewelry. These talks are a regular feature at major shows like SOFA and conferences. Articles are also commissioned for the online newsletter to promote scholarship about artist-made jewelry. Many articles (current and past) were originally published in our newsletters, click here for links to these newsletters.

Adornment Assignment

Art Jewlery Forum

At AJF we have a particular soft spot for the young jeweler, launching themselves on a wing and a prayer into the uncertain life of the craftsperson and daring to take part in a tradition of making that rivals prostitution for the title of world’s oldest profession. AJF member Valeria Vallarta Siemelink managed to spend some time at Broochmania: a project of Ädellab which recently took place at Galerie Rob Koudijs in Amsterdam from 5 June – 3 July 2010. (To find out more about Siemelink, click here; to visit the Galerie Rob Koudijs website, click here.) It is a tale in which some homework gets eaten by the dog but what’s happening in the classroom, for the gallery, proves to be more than worth a second look.

A title such as Broochmania conjures images of a somehow frantic exhibition. A craze of brooches, where the viewer is confronted with a wild and endless display of the ornaments that have accompanied mankind for a long, long time.  However, when entering the bright and quiet space of the Rob Koudijs Gallery in Amsterdam, we are greeted by an exhibition that is sober, yet full of talent.

The title, as commonly happens, came before the collection was even created: Karen Pontoppidan, jewelry artist and head of the Ädellab (the jewelry department of the Konstfack University College of Arts, Crafts and Design in Stockholm) envisioned a project that involved students of her academy from the first year to recently graduated masters students. Rob Koudijs, owner and manager of the Amsterdam based gallery hosting Broochmania, welcomed the idea with the open and daring attitude that characterizes his exhibitions and that often regale the audience with refreshing exhibitions and unexpected artists. Through a series of five workshops, the Ädellab students had studied the history and diverse facets of brooches. The students were then encouraged to translate their recent experiences in brooches that would be suitable for exhibition in a prestigious gallery.

Fibulae, Ca. 2000 B.C., Museo di Preistoria e Protostoria Valle del Fiora, Italy

Brooches are perhaps the oldest type of jewelry. They started their lives as fibule, ornamental clasps used by Romans, Greeks and also by Celts and migratory tribes in Europe even before the Bronze Age. Those early fibulae were simple in shape (a kind of large safety pin made of simple materials, like thorn or bone) and in function (to hold clothing together). But soon they began to change form and acquire a different function: to represent the identity of the wearer, indicating ethnicity, rank or status. And so they turned into brooches, which through the centuries have been produced in all kinds of shapes and materials and used for all kind of purposes. From the Victorian lockets that held the hair of beloved or departed ones, to those badges that indicate ideology and preference, to the cherished mementos that people want to keep close to their bodies, brooches are good examples of the powerful nature of jewelry.

Victorian Hair Locket, 1862, Ghanham Collection, France

The theme of the exhibition is both extensive and rich. Brooches are, perhaps, among the most frequently produced ornaments by contemporary jewelers. Their possibilities are almost endless and their prominent display on the chest make brooches a remarkable media for communication. Given this fact, it is a pity that there were not that many Ädellab students taking advantage of the opportunity.

Dutch architect Ward Schrijver was invited to Stockholm to act as a curator for Broochmania. The curatorial experience proved to be a tough one. Absent students (and their expected works), great ideas with technical problems or last-minute pieces that simply fell apart in the hands of the curator, left Schrijver with a smaller choice than expected. A collection of approximately twenty five brooches executed by a group of only thirteen students and graduates made it to the showcases of the Rob Koudijs gallery. As a last minute addition, a small collection of necklaces also made by the selected students was added to enhance the exhibition. And the chosen necklaces were as interesting as their maniac brooch companions.

Schrijver based his selection in the novelty of the proposal, as well as in the aesthetical, formal and technical qualities of the works. Being an architect myself, it was not difficult to spot the hand of a colleague in the curator’s approach. The manufacture of all the chosen pieces is superb and a certain constructivist style can be perceived through the exhibition. Examples of this are the analytic, geometric style of Hanna Lundborg’s work, the sculptural qualities of Emille de Blanche, or the topographic appearance of Jacob Erixson’s massive brooch. A creative, effective and simply beautiful approach to the pinning and closing mechanisms of several of the pieces remains a constant through Broochmania, found in the work of Yi Shen, Maki Okamoto and Dana Hakim.

Yi Shen, Untitled, 2010, mixed media

Although small in number, the collection is diverse, with a variety of materials and techniques that show the different cultural backgrounds and interests of the makers as well as an inquisitive and experimental approach to material. Maki Okamoto’s Spoon brooches show an interest in challenging the conventional use of brooches and inviting the wearer to become engaged with her pieces. Recovered silver spoons are transformed: the hollow containers become voids, the decorations on their handles are erased and weighty, tactful nuggets (which now bear impressions of those decorations stolen from the spoon handles) are the ingenious mechanisms used to fasten the brooch to the fabric. The wearer agrees to have their clothes modified by the spoon and is constantly reminded about its weight and dynamics. Okamoto’s background in sculpture is evident in the balanced proportions and contrasting volumes of her work, yet she seems to be on her way to master jewelry as well. Her Spoons are smart, skilful and pleasant to see, to touch and to wear.

Maki Okamoto, Spoon brooches, 2010, silver spoons

Israeli graduate student Dana Hakim, whose four-brooch series My Four Guardian Angels was selected for the exhibition, uses familiar everyday commodities that are drastically transformed and infused with new meaning in an attempt to persuade the audience to engage in critical reflection. Hakim chooses objects loaded with cultural meaning, such as iron nets, rubber gloves, reflectors and tape, and carefully transforms them into four brooch-amulets that make a clear comment on the current fears of our post-modern society: crime, terrorism, epidemics, bio-weapons. What is most remarkable about her work is the contrast between the harsh, almost post-nuclear appearance of the brooches and the meticulous labor involved in the execution of each piece. The iron nets are cut, folded, sewn as in the making of a delicate garment. The plastic of a light reflector perfectly fuses with silver and paint, resulting in a homogeneous and smooth surface that almost seems to have been born that way. The pins and hinges are cleverly designed and blend into the pieces, overcoming mere function.

Dana Hakin, My four guardian angels, 2010, mixed media

Industrial designer and jewelry graduate Nicolas Cheng presented a series of brooches, part of his graduation project titled The Beauty of Nothingness. Untitled, the brooch selected for Broochmania, questions the invisibility of beauty in our contemporary society. How are our inexorably decaying, grimed bodies perceived by people obsessed with youth and physical perfection? Cheng presents an interesting choice of organic (and therefore also decadent) materials that often serves to clean the body: sisal fiber, loofah, cotton and natural sponge. In his Untitled brooch, a silver twig serves as a support from which a highly tactile shape, made of natural sponge, silk and amber, seems to grow outside the body, like a parasitic animal or a malignant tumor. There is, indeed an ambiguous and subtle notion of beauty in this brooch. The viewer may need to train his eyes and go beyond the layers to discover the beauty of Cheng’s nothingness.

Nicolas Cheng, Untitled, 2010, mixed media

Annie Hagvil, a first year student at the Ädellab, is interested in illusions and the total transformation of materials. Schrijver selected two of her brooches for Broochmania: a couple of puzzling and unexpected ‘containers of empty space’. A dark crocheted see-through membrane separates the outside from the inside. Even the smallest details of the crocheted pattern and the thread used to make the pieces are visible and the viewer thinks of handling them with outmost care, fearing they will be crushed when attempting to pin them somewhere. But Hagvil’s brooches are massive and certainly un-crushable: the original piece of crocheted yam is strengthened with wax and then cast in bronze.

Annie Hagvil, Untitled, 2010, bronze

It’s no wonder that undergraduate student Yasar Aydin’s brooch was one of the first to be sold at the exhibition. It is a piece of exceptional aesthetics derived from its proficient making and the sensible choice of materials: iron, porcelain and leather. His Untitled brooch is part of an ongoing research project that deals with self-acceptance and the acceptance from others – a rather complex topic that he has chosen to approach in a playful way in this piece. Aydin compares his path as a jeweler to the one of a storyteller: he likes to revive his experiences and questions his ideas and the world that surrounds him, using jewelry as a medium to narrate the outcome. It may be interesting to see the rest of the works of his current research project and understand how this piece fits in the story. But Aydin’s brooch is proof that collaborative projects between academies and renowned galleries often work pretty well.

Yasar Aydin, Untitled, 2010, iron, porcelain, leather

Broochmania is an interesting academic project. While it makes it evident that academies and students would benefit from training students from the early stages to face the demanding and complex professional scene of contemporary jewelry, the exhibition has also been a great opportunity for them to acquire real-life experience and for the audience to be treated with the promise of surprising young talents. It also makes us glad to have galleries that are willing to undertake unusual projects and make the jewelry scene even more exciting.

Broochmania may be a slightly big name for a small exhibition, but it is an exhibition that explores the limitless possibilities of brooches in a creative and skilful manner and that leaves the audience wishing to see what these new artists will come up with in the future.

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What is Dichotomies of Place in Objects?

Gussie-van-der-Merwe_Maagspeld-rugspeld Art Jewlery Forum
Currently on at Velvet da Vinci gallery in San Francisco, Dichotomies in Objects is an exhibition of contemporary South African jewelry that seeks to explode some of the myths and stereotypes of South African craft and art. (To visit the gallery website, click here.) AJF asked exhibition co-curator Lauren Kalman if she could tell us a little more about the show, and the agendas behind it, and she kindly filled out this questionnaire for us. (You can find out more about Kalman by clicking here.)

Nanette Nel, Verkeerdom Protea brooch, 2007, silicone, silver

What is Dichotomies of place in objects?

Dichotomies in Objects: Contemporary South African studio jewelry from the Stellenbosch Area is an exhibition comprised of jewelry artists from Stellenbosch, South Africa. The artists have been selected by myself (Lauren Kalman) and Carine Terreblanche, a jeweler and educator from Stellenbosch. All the jewelers in the show are affiliated with Stellenbosch University – one of the only schools in South Africa teaching conceptual approaches to jewelry making – as faculty, students, lecturers or alumni. They have been selected to represent a diverse cross section that reflects a variety of approaches, from highly conceptual practices, tongue-in-cheek kitsch, to more poetic material investigations of form. The jewelers in Stellenbosch are trained with a high technical proficiency and a strong conceptual understanding, with some investigating jewelry using contemporary media, such as digital video.

The exhibition highlights collections of five to ten pieces per artist. By having collections from each jeweler it is my hope that the viewer will be able to see trends, themes and deviations that permeate both individual bodies of work and the group as a whole.

Gussie van der Merwe, Maagspeld, rugspeld, borsspeld en boudspeld (series) brooches, 2008, silver, steel, upholstery, stockings, thread

Where has it traveled?

Currently the exhibition is on at Velvet da Vinci in San Francisco, and traveling to the Ohio Craft Museum in Columbus.

How did the exhibition and catalog come about?

The exhibition was conceived in 2008 while I was an artist in residence in the Jewelry Department at Stellenbosch University. During my stay the department was installing the exhibition Inventions at the Gold of Africa Museum in Cape Town. I was impressed by the quality of the work and began to collaborate with my co-curator, Carine Terreblanche, to bring a exhibition of South African studio jewelry to the United States. The catalog was made possible through funding from the Society of North American Goldsmith, a co-sponsor of the exhibition.

Carine Terreblanche, Herinneringe II (remembrance II) brooch, 2008, wood, gold leaf, silver, steel pin

Why did you think it was important to undertake this project?

The primary goal of the exhibition is to introduce American audiences to the thriving contemporary jewelry tradition in South Africa. It is my hope that this exhibition will break stereotypes and assumptions about what African jewelry is or can be. Specifically that African jewelry comes from both traditional methodologies and conceptual practices. With critical discourse in the contemporary jewelry field focused on the northern hemisphere it is my hope that this work will feel new and invigorating.

Cross-cultural exchange allows for the expansion of ideas and experiences. Exhibitions such as Dichotomies in Objects are one way to promote the transfer of ideas. They broaden our understanding of the world and help to cultivate more globally minded and socially aware individuals.

Nini van der Merwe, Button for my buttons 1, medal, 2009, silver, ribbon, cotton thread, found objects (buttons)

How did you select the jewelers for the exhibition? The writers for the catalogue?

I had the opportunity to see work by many of the artists first hand, and the remainder were selected by Carine Terreblance. The goal was to find work that was visually challenging and experimental or conceptually driven in nature. Dr. Lize van Robbroeck, Associate Professor of the Department of Visual Arts, Stellenbosch University, was selected to write an essay for the catalog as an expert in the field of visual arts in South Africa.

Do you think that nationality is a very useful way to think about contemporary jewelry? What is South African about South African contemporary jewelry?

In this case it is a method to curate a group of objects. By setting a constant criteria the work can be compared and contrasted within a fixed set of parameters. One might find that the work is very much South African in character or perhaps that nationality is no that cohesive a label. That being said, it is interesting to consider how factors related to geographic location – like landscape, climate, and culture – might impact the process of making.

Has it been successful?

That remains to be seen.

Bea Bernard, Etched identity brooch, 2008, warthog tusk, reindeer horn, silver, garnet
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Brooching the Subject

Sondra Sherman Art Jewelry Forum

Brooching the Subject: One of a Kind, curated by Jan Katz, is currently showing at the Center for Southern Craft & Design at The Ogden Museum of Southern Art, New Orleans. (You can visit the museum’s website by clicking here.) AJF is pleased to bring you this review of the show by American jeweler and exhibition participant Thomas Mann, who finds that Mardi Gras is not the only reason for celebration down south. (You can find out more about Mann by clicking here.

It’s an important moment in the history of contemporary jewelry design in New Orleans. There are only a few venues for contemporary work of this nature in the city so it’s a remarkable moment when one of the city’s prominent museums is willing to celebrate work from the field of contemporary metalsmithing.

Jan Katz knows her stuff. She’s been a fan of contemporary jewelry, collects it and knows the current maker scene. She selected an appropriate range of artists relative to experience, reputation and influence from the field and, as a result, the show makes a vigorous statement about the quality and character of the artists working in the medium today.

I was a bit disappointed at the installation site for the show. It takes place in the museum store, which is a nicely designed modern space, but not as nice, nor as important, as many of the museum’s primary exhibition halls. But, in light of the restricted budgets that most organizations and galleries are working with to mount exhibitions these days, displaying the work in four pullout drawers (the top two side by side, which had glass tops) was adequate, just not as celebratory as you might hope for. In support of that decision though, Katz’s very helpful sales assistant is happy to remove any of the pieces for closer inspection. And all the work is for sale, so maybe the store is a better exhibition space for everyone concerned.

To their credit as well, at the opening on Thursday 21 April, in between Jazz Fest weekends, models walked around the museum acting as moving canvases, with exhibition brooches displayed from collar to hem. Of particular note is that, despite the lack of funds for a catalog, they made the inventive, creative decision to enlist the aid of artist Fredrick Stivers, who hand drew a lovely illustration of each piece in the show. His work was employed in the design of a simple broadside layout catalog in B & W. This piece alone is remarkable. A unique document of the event and, in my estimation, a document that is collectable in it’s own right.

Anyway, here are some reflections on the work of each jewelry designer in the exhibition.

Linda Threadgill: really snappy copper compositions. Lots of kinetic energy.  Inventive shapes and connections.

Biba Schutz: I want to see these pieces BIG on a wall somewhere. Biba’s imagination is on the threshold of the fifth dimension!

Robert Ebendorf, She likes long cut brooch

Bob Ebendorf: Ebendorf appears to be channeling Rauschenberg, Klimt, and Cornell all at the same time! And the eclectic fine mesh personal vocabulary filter he strains them through produces iconic work. And the pieces he sent for this exhibition are in addition really ridiculously low in price. What were you thinking Bob?

Valerie Mitchell: Wow! Valerie really stepped out into a new dimension for these pieces. I’d love to see the rest of this group cause’ these enameled, electroformed shapes are spectacular!  She is obviously experimenting and pushing her personal envelope in new and exciting directions.  You go girl!

Rachelle Thiewes, Mirage #350 brooch

Rachelle Thiewes: She is always pushing the edge, and always successfully! That’s what is so unnerving about her work, damn it! Brightly painted circular motion steel forms with brilliant magnetic discs for securing the pin to fabric.

Marjorie Simon: Most of us know Marjorie for her torched fired enamel work.  But the pieces she sent for this exhibition are revelatory and exceptional. So even if she dug them out of a personal archive of work they are still delicious in their creativity and structure.

Kiwon Wang, Erotica #4 brooch

Kiwon Wang: We know that Kiwon is the Pearl R Us designer of record. So it was cool to see here actually systems bashing her silver structural work (with pearls) with her also signature use of newspaper (with pearls) in one of her two pieces.

Sondra Sherman, Rhodiala rosea brooch

Sondra Sherman: Black is beautiful! These pieces from Sandra’s current body of work are an exceptional exploration of steel and enamel.

Marlene True, Day bloom brooch

Marlene True: Steel, gold, delicious apparently fragile elegant forms.  Luscious!

Joyce Scott: Hey, make a face Joyce! No, not that face, the one with BEADS!  Get these prototypical Joyce Scott pieces NOW!

Linda Darty, Winter garden series brooch

Linda Darty: Queen of enameling, flower goddess, delicate lovely enchanting pink!

Anya Pinchuk, Brooch

Anya Pinchuk: She is really working it! An awesome extrapolation of polymer clay, crystals, wood. Three pieces, all completely different, all completely cool!

Sandra Enertline: Did you know that Sandra drills everyone of those tiny, tiny holes by hand, no techno tricks. It’s INSANE but beautiful, elegant and full, absolutely stuffed with metal umami!

Arthur Hash, Untitled brooch

Arthur Hash: Only one piece but a clear demonstration of Arthur’s continuing interest in exploring the possibilities of technology applied to jewelry design.

Joanna Gollberg, Blue brooch

Joanna Gollberg: Space is the place, Johanna! Suspended stones on a course to somewhere, most likely on your lapel!

Kathleen Brown, Quartet brooch

Kathleen Brown: The butterfly piece is deceptively light, precise and enchanting. Kathleen is always experimenting. Her very precise vocabulary reveals itself delicately in these pieces.

Julia Barello: The floating window escape, with x-ray lenses, another world awaits.

Heidi Gerstacker: dude, let’s get minimal – thin, balanced, sharp.

Marcia McDonald: Marcia, we love you even though, invited, you weren’t here in this show with us.

Pat Flynn, Opal brooch

Pat Flynn: Pat’s work drives elegance strait down the center of brilliance. His evolution from historic the inspiration imbued in hand forged nails through those objects delivered to these exquisite objects is a true travel adventure.

Donald Friedlich, Magnification series brooch

Don Friedlich: Donald has carved out (literally and figuratively) his own niche in the pantheon. Slate, then glass. What’s next? Remember the Clothes Pins? Really inventive. (Ask him about them.)

Susie Ganch, Brooch I

Susie Ganch: Absolutely the most cutting edge piece in the show! Susie is kicking it big time for inventive use of materials and techniques. Buy this work NOW – it’s going to be immensely important.

Thomas Mann: You don’t really expect me to review my own work here, do you? You’ll have to be satisfied with my admission that I am addicted to beach combing for stones!

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Tooling Around

Hans Stofer Art Jewelry Forum
AJF is very pleased to bring you this review by Stephen Knott of Hans Stofer’s exhibition Walk the line, which took place at Gallery S O in London from 19 March – 17 May 2010. Stofer is head of the jewelry department of the Royal College of Art in London (you can read more about him by clicking here), and Knott is a collaborative PhD student at the V&A Museum and the Royal College on an AHRC-funded studentship entitled ‘Modern craft: history, theory, practice’.

Gallery S O houses its temporary exhibitions in a small hall behind its permanent salesroom in what used to be a string factory. As the gallery assistant unlocked the room for me during my visit, I noticed ‘Hans Stofer’ written in gold on the architrave above the door, as if we were entering a prestigious family mausoleum.

Yet once the door was opened, the kind of coherent chronological symbolism that you might expect in tombs was replaced by an irreverent scattering of objects gathered around a central corridor made from wood panels, disassembled from a garden shed. This was the passageway that, according to Gallery S O’s press release, the visitor must pass through to enter Hans Stofer’s ‘hidden world and view pieces that attempt to walk the line of maintaining a fragile balance between binary extremes’. These dichotomies included function and non-function, art and craft, sanity and madness, purpose and accident, familiarity and alienation, and many other couplets aside.

Missing from this list is the dichotomy between tools and sculpture. This is important because this exhibition is not just an entrance point to Stofer’s creative headspace but a focused interrogation of the concept of tools and tooling.

Tooling has aroused recent attention within applied art theory. Craft theorist Glenn Adamson wrote a short essay called ‘Tooling up and tooling down’ in Eighteen proposals, a catalogue for Royal College of Art Ceramics and Glass graduating students (May 2010) in which he positioned ‘vertical movement within the single meta-field of tooling’ as a potential post-disciplinary strategy. This represents an alternative approach to the current popularity of lateral movement across disciplines (for example, a jeweler engaging with sculpture), and might involve deliberately using the wrong tool for the job, or conflating different tools together. An example of this ‘tool-as-art’ genre is Tim Hawkinson’s Signature (1993) that combines old school chair with winged platform, a ballpoint pen, a roll of cash register tape and motorized elements to make a contraption that endlessly reproduces his own signature. The chits of paper pile up, making an obvious statement about artistic authorship, but the work also provokes an enquiry into the relationship between art object and tool.

Critical examination of tooling in art practice engenders a post-disciplinary future where craft takes centre stage, due to applied art practitioners’s closeness to the tools they use. But serious discussion of the role of tools in practice is held back by the romantic and often spiritual way in which makers describe their tools.

Stofer’s exhibition Walk the line does not indulge in such an infatuation with tools. Instead there is a playful provocation of the tool as sculpture. Paintbrushes with spoon ends are standing in jam jars and stained tin cans; a jug is made from a one-pint plastic milk vessel and an orange juice carton; nails have tiny ornamental heads on them that would make them frustrating to use in any DIY project; buckets become chairs; a trowel has a candle for a handle. Tools are twisted, made ridiculous and denied of function; conversely found objects are made into tools.

Many of Sofer’s works fall into the Duchampian tradition of the assisted readymade, taking a found object and doing something extra to it. The Swiss Gruyère cheese is not asking to be judged as an art object by itself but is shaped into a cross, parodying traditional jewelry iconography. At the end of the corridor is Off my trolley, a wooden cart laden with what appears to be shards of the artistic process – cigarettes, graffiti, smears, half-used paint tubes and plastic cups. But each piece is constructed by hand: what appears to be a stubbed cigarette, for example, is actually made of metal.

This is more than just an effort to ‘tease out something new and meaningful from the old and unwanted’ as Fiona Rattray put it in her review for Crafts magazine (n.224, May/June 2010). This is a playful, proactive appropriation of found objects that are shaped into functionless and functional tools/art. Moreover, Stofer deceives the audience into thinking that he has only used readymades, when actually he has employed craft skill to make things look like readymades. There is a deception at play, showing how makers can exercise magic on materials to trick viewers – an exploration of craft as ‘crafty’, or cunning.

The title of the show recalls the famous Johnny Cash song ‘I walk the line’. Of course we could explain this choice of title as a reference to treading the fine line between all those dichotomies mentioned earlier – the treacherous path of the maker between art and craft. But there is an alternative reading. Cash often recalled that when composing this song in the 1950s that he wanted to use a snare drum. However, this instrument was unpopular in country music at the time so instead he put a piece of paper in between the guitar strings and the fret board to create his own ‘snare drum’ effect. It is perhaps this more obscure reference, the making of a tool specific to need, that we should look to for in a more provocative reading of the show.

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New York, New York! SOFA 2010 Review

Art Jewelry Forum Jennifer Trask

New York New York! Reviewing SOFA 2010

My time at the New York SOFA show began early Friday morning. The show is located at the Park Avenue Armory. Upon entry, one sees a wonderful example of what once was, and soon again will be (post renovation), art nouveau era décor on a very grand scale.  

AJF sponsored a gracious continental breakfast in the Tiffany room, followed by the first AJF VIP lecture. Rock Hushka, curator of collections from the Tacoma Art Museum (TAM), spoke to the assembled group about collection strategies for studio art jewelry at his institution. Hushka ran through a brief history of TAM and then a long list of issues and concerns relevant to the museum. His comments addressed how the museum looks to expand its collection as well as their mission, which is to become a premier museum for Pacific Northwest art. Hushka spoke extensively on jewelry and the special considerations it entails for a museum.  

Staying put in the Tiffany Room, Hushka was ‘on’ again. Co-sponsored by AJF and SNAG, which brought in a broader audience, his second lecture was entitled, ‘Holding objects: What it means to wear jewelry – The psychoanalytic mechanisms’.  Hushka explained that he came to the subject of art jewelry seeking to understand the relationship between the artist and the wearer. He began by exploring the idea that jewelry appeals to many on an emotional level enhanced by facets of one’s particular culture. He then expounded on the unspoken messages of jewelry in general and continued on to examine in particular the meaning and message of studio art jewelry. Using psychoanalytical concepts, Hushka presented four different approaches to interpretation. His talk was both contemplative and challenging, but seemed to me at times to try too hard to make the art fit the concept rather than have the concept help to explain the art.

It was past noon when I finally walked into the exhibition space eager to see what was there and looking to pay special attention to studio art jewelry. One of the first galleries I saw was Sienna Gallery (Lenox, MA). The booth featured a single work, Wanderlux,by jeweler Tina Rath, which began on one side, turned the corner and continued across a wall at mid line of the exhibition space. I arrived right before Rath was to speak about her mixed media piece which was two years in the making and required five assistants. (You can see a video of the installation of Rath’s work by clicking here. http://vimeo.com/10951856)

The basic concept relates to Rath’s pleasure in wandering through nature and the luxury that being able to do so implies – a luxury of both time and space. Rath went on to explain that through the process of wandering in exterior landscape space, one is able to perhaps then wander through one’s own interior landscape. The piece itself is evocative of woodlands in both its jewelry components and its supportive structure. Blocks of blond wood tethered the composition. Each was adorned with cascades of draped ultra-suede leaves, twiggy silver tracings, fur, silk, rock, gold leaf and ivory. Fungus-like pods adhered to the mossy green background. The piece was designed to be intentionally interactive in that it contains secret drawers in the wood blocks that hold treasures – be they jewelry or bits of ‘nature’, much like the private spaces in one’s mind. This multi-dimensional piece contains ten pieces of jewelry nestled within its totality.

I found the piece to be compelling. The act of truly looking at it was engaging and forced the viewer to wander from place to place along the wall seeking out the hidden caches and fine details. Even with the title and no explanation, the gist of the concept was comprehensible. While it was not the most extreme example of studio art jewelry at the show, I felt it was current and had something distinctive to communicate. The disengaged items of jewelry ranged from easily wearable to somewhat bigger statements, but all were consistent in feeling and concept. As well as Rath’s Wanderlux, Sienna Gallery also presented a number of other intriguing artists although in a far more limited manner.

The display at Ornamentum (Hudson, NY) was more immediately diverse. The gallery featured several artists prominently. On the left side of the space a whole wall of Tanel Veenre’s Pagan poetry pieces were displayed. It was difficult for me to pay attention to this amorphous body of work when there were so many other interesting pieces to be seen. At the far right in its own designated area, Ruudt Peters’s Anima pieces were shown attached to individual mirrored disks suspended from above. The work is fairly delicate in scale and gave the illusion of fragility. Through this series, Peters was looking to explore the unconscious and to discover a new freedom of form.  The effect with the mirrors was eye catching, as well as light catching and allowed the art to be seen simultaneously from the front and back. The installation seemed to complement the intention of the work beautifully and added to the sense of subconscious illusiveness.

Jennifer Trask’s large neckpiece, Germinate, (shown at top of article) from her Embodiment series is a seductive tour de force of details combined to create a cascade of lacey organicism.   Composed of carved bone, a tiny bird skull, pinpoint hidden diamonds and bits of carved ivory, the neckpiece is like a jumbled natural history lesson. While making a bold statement in terms of scale, the piece is minutely crafted and visually enthralling. Trask’s series explores the concept of the emotional becoming embodied in the physical, but for me the piece is evocative of dreams where fragments of images are all somehow connected.

In contrast, Swan’s Neck necklace, a neckpiece featuring a taxidermy brown swan’s head embellished with beads, leather, feathers and fabric by the Netherland team Idiots, is far more difficult to comprehend. Due to its well-protected placement within the display area, one has to wonder whether the gallery was a bit unsure of the public reaction as well. With this work, the artists seek to play upon the contrasting ideas of momento mori, the natural beauty of the animal form and the idea of luxury to conjure up whatever thoughts such associations might inspire. It is hard to imagine, however, that adorning oneself with such a piece actually would lead to much conversation between wearer and the confronted viewer beyond talk about the reality of its components. Would wearing such a piece evoke real considerations on the nature of life and death among gala opening night participants, dinner guests or someone one casually encountered, or would it just serve as a bit of shocking provocation? Perhaps if a viewer was particularly intrigued one might get a bit further into the wearer’s interpretive choice and the meaning of the necklace, but it seems problematic. On the other hand, while I have no interest in owning it and even less in wearing it, more than a week later I am still trying to understand the impetus behind the piece. 

Maybe it was a carryover from Hushka’s talk, but it seems that each of the above artists, despite their differences in style and approach, share an interest in the cerebral connotations of their work. Their pieces suggest a narrative, even if the narrative is completely internal. One might say that much of contemporary studio art jewelry is highly cerebral in its origins, but this group of artists seems to be intentionally inviting an exploration of mental landscapes. 

Sergey Jivetin’s work, also at Ornamentum, seems less internally focused and more about the possibilities of found objects, scale and form. Jivetin’s jewelry forces one to consider everyday objects in new ways. Exhibited pieces ranged from work constructed of tiny watch hand components to large scale pieces fabricated with carbon-fiber reinforced egg shells. His Poultry accumulus (necklace) combines the illusion and preconception of an eggshell’s fragility with the reality of ‘bulletproof’ endurance, to quote Jivetin on its strength. Beyond the technical specifications, the necklace and a similarly constructed brooch juxtapose feminine associations of fertility, i.e. eggs and a soft roundness of form with an energetic vigor, a certain heft and bold compositional statements. Jivetin’s work has underlying content too, but seems less oriented to the internal musings of the individual psyche.

In addition to Sienna and Ornamentum, many other galleries presented art jewelry.  Some, such as established favorites Aaron Faber, Snyderman-Works and Charon Kransen Arts (CKA), were filled with a huge range of studio art jewelry by many artists. Kransen offered the usual dramatic display of great diversity. There seemed to be lots of color within the totality of the CKA presentation, a fact enhanced by the azure booth walls. While I looked closely at everything on display, I was especially appreciative of having the chance to talk at length to one of his exhibiting artists, Efharis Alepedis, about both her work and issues relevant to studio art jewelry. Other galleries such as Contemporary Applied Arts chose to feature a single jewelry artist, Katy Hackney, in conjunction with the rest of their collected works. There also were several galleries showing jewelry that studio art jewelry devotees might pass by due to their overall more traditional fine jewelry approach. However, within these galleries there were generally interesting pieces of beautifully crafted jewelry that one would never see at your local fine jewelry store. These galleries may not be quite so cutting edge, but they offered pieces that were different from standard fare and eminently wearable. 

After spending the better part of two days viewing and contemplating the totality of the SOFA experience, I left exhausted and feeling that while I had seen quite a lot, there was still much that was missed. 
 

PHOTOS (from top to bottom):

Germinate, Jennifer Trask at Ornamentum Gallery

Wanderlux, Tina Rath at Sienna Gallery

Wanderlux, Tina Rath at Sienna Gallery

Ornamentum Gallery

Anima, Ruudt Peters at Ornamentum

Tanel Veenre,Pagan Poetry at Ornamentum
 

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The Change We Can Wear

Art Jewelry Forum Vicki Mason

Dr Kevin Murray is Adjunct Professor at RMIT University, online editor of Journal of Modern Craft and contributor to www.craftunbound.net. This is an edited version of his essay published in Signs of Change: Jewellery Designed to Make a Better World (Perth: Form, 2010). The exhibition is at FORM Gallery in Perth, Western Australia, from 9 April to 30 May 2010.

 

On the tiger’s back
Since beginning of the twentieth century, modernity has witnessed waves of innovation. The predominant effect of phenomena such as mass media, industrial design, and Google has been to broaden access to cultural goods. Similarly, political revolutions have been accompanied by the elevation of common attire, from the sans-culottes of the French revolution and Mao jackets of the Chinese Communist Party to the blue jeans of the American youth movement. It seems the inexorable mission of modernity is to replace the rare treasures of aristocratic elites with the common identifiers of popular culture. As Andy Warhol noted about the popularity of Coke, ‘What’s great about this country is that America started the tradition where the richest consumers buy essentially the same things as the poorest.’

We can see the contemporary jewelry movement playing its own role in this progression. There are key moments, such as Ralph Turner’s 1976 exhibition Jewellery Redefined, which celebrated the introduction of non-precious materials, including paper and plastic. Jewelry was no longer limited to traditional components of splendor like gold and diamonds. The key is instead an artistic imagination that could transform ordinary materials into works of art. The new studio model positioned the jeweller as an artist. This meant the freedom to create work for its own sake, regardless of tradition, function or marketplace.

In Australia, this studio model arrived fortuitously at a time when Australian universities were undergoing a radical transformation. No longer bastions of privilege, they were expected to open their doors to near universal access. Previously taught as a trade, jewelry courses emerged in now in universities where craft was seen as a theoretical field on par with visual arts, if not literature. Many students were the first in their family to have a tertiary education. It is natural that, as an upwardly mobile class took over bastions of privilege, it celebrates the overturning of traditions. The resulting work questioned our assumptions of jewelry, including what is precious in our world.

But, as the Chinese say, when you are on a tiger’s back, it is impossible to get off. The modernist critique that was once used to clear away tradition eventually starts undermining the structures that replaced it. The model of jeweler as artist, once a form of defiance against the traditional status as artisan, eventually becomes another myth to be debunked. The liberating quest of modernity seeks new frontiers. Where will they be found?

Ethical turn

We now see an alternative model of jewelry emerging – from the bench to the street. Artistic vision has been a productive context for the emergence of contemporary jewelry, and will continue to be. But we see now a broadening context that enables jewelry to return to its place in everyday life—as useful device, social link or call for action. How might a piece of jewelry make its way beyond the bench, into the kitchen, the backyard, the street, the public square?

Function has been at odds with modern art. As Berthold Brecht puts it, ‘There are times when you have to choose between being a human and having good taste.’ To limit work to its usefulness has been seen as a Puritan reduction of art for its own sake. This undermines the transcendental nature of art as a freedom to reflect upon the world, rather than being bound to it.

This situation is changing. With the ethical turn in recent times, we have seen a re-evaluation of function in art. The shift began with the emergence of relational aesthetics at the end of the twentieth century. In reaction against commodification in the art world, the relational paradigm read art in terms of its audience relations. The artist was no longer lone genius revealing higher truths beyond the everyday world. Instead, his or her role was to be a conduit for bringing people together in surprising ways. It was a dramatic move. Overnight, galleries became restaurants.

While the relational path helps recover a lost dimension of craft, in visual art it can go around in circles. Relational aesthetics has had limited success in broadening the social engagement in art beyond existing audiences – predominantly young, mobile, educated and urban. These are not new audiences: pre-existing art followers are just finding a more participatory way of engaging with art. In the relational context, it can be argued that craft and design have greater potential to intervene in the world.

This potential is evident now particularly with the ethical turn in contemporary design. In 2007 the design ‘guru’ Philippe Stark made the public confession that ‘today I'm so ashamed to make this job.’ Stark called for a much less glamorous approach to design, with an emphasis on practical improvement, ‘even if it's for toilet brush’. Stark’s act of contrition is accompanied by a wave of philanthropic design, such as the Cooper Hewitt exhibition Design for the Other 90%, which highlighted proposals for improving living standards in poor communities. The ethical design movement is to be welcomed not only as a more egalitarian focus, but also as fresh source of innovation in the field. But there is a danger.

Unfortunately, ethics is fashionable. Recently Oxfam ran an advertisement of a pig in leotards in order to console anxious patrons that ‘Giving will never go out of fashion’. The need to make this statement at all is an indication that even ethics can become a bandwagon, and what comes up the fashion swing will inevitably come down as last year’s fad. For this reason, it is imperative that ethical craft and design remain innovative and not rest on its laurels, no matter how worthy. The works developed by jewelers in this exhibition demonstrate much scope for innovation.

Distributed jewelry
The world today provides increasing opportunities for jewelry to embrace social networking. One of Oxfam’s most popular items is the Little Travelers, produced by Hillcrest AIDS Centre Trust in South Africa. Purchasers are encouraged to send images of their little beaded bride dolls from various corners of the world. In the case of jewelry, an Argentinean painter Francine has produced a series of hand-made brooches featuring miniature versions of her painted landscapes. For Be My Walking Gallery, she encourages owners of her brooches to post online images of themselves wearing her works—effectively using jewelry as a distributed gallery. Like tracking devices, such distributed jewelry connects people together, despite their distances.

Such developments reflect the gregarious nature of contemporary consumption, finding new ways of bringing people in contact with each other. But also, from the other end, it suggests that the ever-expanding virtual communities need something real to ground themselves in our everyday lives.

Vicki Mason has been producing classic floral brooches that cleverly incorporate materials such as plastic and haberdashery. This work has been borne out of a celebration of gardening. For this exhibition she has taken her interest onto the political stage and made work that engages with the issue of Australia becoming a republic. Her brooches feature a broken crown to highlight this issue.

As it is, this would be standard practice for a jeweler seeking to make a statement with a work that goes on public display in a gallery setting. But Mason takes this further by releasing these works into the world on completion of the exhibition. Those fortunate enough to win a brooch for themselves at the exhibition opening will be required to agree to a covenant that commits them, in turn, to passing this brooch on to someone else. For anyone to receive the brooch, they must fulfill certain conditions: they must express an interest in it, be aware of its relation to the republican cause, and be willing to give it over to someone else in turn. The covenant is similar to systems such as Copyleft, which agree to use of intellectual property as long as it is not for restricted private gain. And like the use of tags in the Culturing the Body (2002) project by Roseanne Bartley, the jewelry functions to collect responses to an idea.

There are certain kinds of mass ornament that have emerged alongside social networking. They carry its spirit, but are not formally connected to online activity. The Make Poverty History bracelet was widely adopted as a sign of solidarity around issues of global equity, particularly the crippling debt owed by African countries. Promoted by celebrities such as Bono it was designed to press the issue around initiatives such as the Millennium Goals.

Like the red AIDS ribbon, this pioneering design has spawned many imitations, eventually demeaning its original value. What was initially a matter of individual commitment becomes eventually a matter of mass conformity. But what is a loss to mass fashion is an opportunity for contemporary jewelry. Renee Ugazio has developed an ingenious means of reviving this form by enabling individual customization. Plastic bracelets can be recycled into bracelets, necklaces, brooches and even knuckle-dusters.

At the street level, one of the most successful items of jewelry is the DIY friendship bracelet. Produced by braiding several threads of wool, this bracelet has become a universal means by which individuals mark a personal commitment to another.

Areta Wilkinson has developed a substantial career as a jewelry artist with some of New Zealand’s most impressive recent exhibitions. Yet alongside these individual works, she has also developed a way of making a brooch that can be quickly learnt in a workshop. The Matariki star commemorates the Maori New Year based on the appearance of the Pleiades constellation. As social jeweler, Wilkinson has forged a method to disseminate this festival broadly through host hands and bodies.

An alternative ethical dimension of jewelry involves working with traditional artisans. The German Martina Dempf has combined jewelry with anthropology through her project with basket-makers in Rwanda. Through workshops, Rwandan women have developed a means of refining their techniques to be incorporated into jewelry, such as brooches and necklaces. This has added to her own repertoire: she incorporates commissioned grass components into her work. But there is a developmental side as well with the women selling their own new jewelry range online. Dempf is thus able to make jewelry which reflects the issues that were raised by the Make Poverty History bracelets. But she goes beyond a purely symbolic engagement. She manages to both provide new opportunities for underprivileged women and create pieces of inherent beauty in themselves.

Change is gonna come...

Signs of Change is an opportunity to consider the public life of jewelry. While this may seem at odds with the inherently intimate nature of adornment, it reflects the mission of contemporary jewelry to critically engage with its place in the world. It is not just about ticking a box of political correctness. The do-gooder is easy to satirize. There is an experimental dimension of ethical design that challenges our preconceptions. The ethical mode of practice places significant responsibility in the hands of the jeweler. Once attached to a human host, jewelry has great potential power—not only as testament to the taste of the individual wearer, but also as a sign of change in the wider world.

PHOTOS (top to bottom):

Oregano Wattle Rose Brooches, Vicki Mason

Necklace Brooch T-shirts, Helen Britton & Justine McKnight

Sean OConnell & Annemarie Stievermann

Making Headlines, Renee Ugazio

Signs of Change exhibition

 

 

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Speaking Of Schmuck

Art Jewelry Forum Schmuck

 

Here at AJF we have been extremely lucky to receive a number of reports from Schmuck 2010, the exhibition and contemporary jewelry free-for-all that takes place in Munich every March. Recently we published American jeweler Doug Bucci’s two-part report, in which our narrator walked, talked and looked his way across multiple venues and through three days of more jewelry than can possibly be good for you. (To read Bucci’s posts, click here and here.) And now we bring you this report from Australian jeweler Zoe Brand, who risked deep vein thrombosis in the confines of cattle class (otherwise known as economy or coach) to take part in contemporary jewelry’s biggest bash. (To visit Brand’s website, click here.)

I have often wondered if jewelry is not best observed (rather than handled) through the haze of a hangover. It’s that state of fragility that requires you to muster your strength and focus all your attention to the task at hand. I unfortunately arrived in Munich on the tail end of Schmuck so I spent my first night in town meeting up with the New Zealand contingent as well as a fellow Australian. They very kindly filled me in on all that I had very jealously missed out on (I did manage to catch about fifteen exhibitions out of the possible 28 or so on the program). That night included a brief meeting with Otto Kunzli and some well-placed beverages, so it was in this precious condition that I was to observe my very first Schmuck.

Schmuck 2010

I worked my way slowly to the back of the Exhibition Hall, past some interesting and some not so interesting displays of craft and design. Trying to savior the moment before I would actually witness the often-thought-of-but-far-off-reality-of-attending Schmuck. Of the 59 artists in this annual award showcase, there were some who I recognized instantly, others unfamiliar but excited me all the same. Just to see the scope of work and artists on display was, well, pretty bloody awesome. Highlights: Felieke van der Leest, Sergey Jivetin and Gesine Hackenberg.

Schmuck shared the back of the convention centre with Talente, which was abuzz with freshness, excitement and new approaches to making. Talente clearly succeeded in presenting the youthful exuberance of the best in their fields under the age of 30. The overall highlight of Talente for me was the work of two South Korean jewelers, Semi Kim and Ji Hye Lee. There is just something about the immaculate technique and interesting subject matter in the work of the current generation of Korean jewelers that gets me every time. ‘Frame’ was also placed in the back corner of the hall and showcased three of the more influential galleries in European jewelry: Galerie Marzee (Netherlands), Galerie Platina (Sweden) and Galerie Ra (Netherlands).


One of the first exhibitions I visited outside of Schmuck was Galerie Für Angewandte Kunst, showing Nicht Dass Du Mir Von Der Blause Fällst (don’t you dare fall off my blouse), a group show of people I might consider as the ‘parents’ of contemporary jewelry in Munich. Back in 1999 these jewelers, including Otto Kunzli, Bettina Speckner and Therese Hilbert, got together on the last Wednesday of every month for some beer, food and jewelry chats. It appears that while the members of this group seemed to ebb and flow, what was to be ‘constant was only the young talent still in training and all jewelry gallery owners, collectors and customers were categorically denied attendance’. (Quoted from Klimt02. To view this text, click here.)

I was rather excited by the exhibition design. It had been a while since I had seen such a considered effort in the display of jewelry and it was a great solution for such a large space, but I honestly can’t remember a single piece from the show. I have often wondered if is it better to have an exhibition stick in your mind because of the wow factor of display and not remember the work, as opposed to seeing good work displayed poorly and forgetting the show entirely. Because let’s face it, there is a very fine line between these two things. Even if the work is great, if the display doesn’t do it justice it’s just another forgotten show.


I would say that out of all the exhibitions that I managed to visit, three stood out as having a really nice balance of exhibition display and quality of work. mine x mine (Mikiko Minewaki and Yutaka Minegishi) at WITTENBRINKFuenfhoefe presented great work that was supported beautifully by its slightly unconventional display. Mikiko Minewaki’s work was displayed in what looked like a sandbox (minus the sand) on the floor so that you had squat to look closely at the work. Given Minewaki’s favoured materials (plastic toys), this was an appropriate and thoughtful choice of presentation that enhanced rather than detracted from the work. Yutaka Minegishi, whose work I was not as familiar with, had pieces arranged in a line along a tall, fine, open structured frame, mirroring the rectangular box on the floor and placing it against the wall. This seemed to again reflect the nature of the work and allowed the viewer to quietly contemplate the materials and techniques used to create such simple seductive forms eye level.

 

Other highlights: Giampaolo Babetto’s exhibition L’Italianità dei Gioielli at the Pinakothek der Moderne. Babetto is a genius. A great play was made in the installation on the structure of the display cabinets with large rocks and the scope and aesthetic of his work making the exhibition all the more memorable. The Glass in Czech Jewellery exhibition at Tschechisches Zentrum was also fantastic, mainly for the fact that it was unlike anything else I had seen in Munich so far, it really was extremely refreshing, and the work was simply yet effectively displayed in white open frames.

 
 

 

The Danner-Rotunde at Pinakothek der Moderne, curated by Karl Fritsch was pretty overwhelming. I felt like an old man in a porn shop. I saw works that until now I had only dreamed about seeing in the flesh. I had drooled over so many images of these pieces on the screen and in books, but now I was only a pane of glass away from being able to turn them over in my hand and examine the back of the piece (the sign of a true jeweler). It was rather difficult to keep from bursting with excitement! In some ways the experience of this exhibition was like visiting a peep show, so many exotic, desirable objects behind a tantalizingly clear barrier and yet there is no way in hell the bouncer – sorry, gallery guard – was going let me get my filthy paws anywhere near them. Having said that, I spent most of my time in the room alone, after having been followed around continually in every room of the Pinakothek der Moderne, and now in what I thought of as being the most valuable room, there was no interest in protection from the gallery guards. Perhaps we are living in such a small reality that only a few would appreciate the value of a piece of rope through an old laptop computer. (Thank you, Lisa Walker).

 
 

I spent three days straight looking, thinking and dreaming jewelry but the strange and interesting fact of the matter is even though I had traveled all that way, I didn’t even once notice that I hadn’t so much as fondled a single piece of jewelry during the whole time. Hopefully 2011 will see me make it back to Munich, and next time I will make sure that I am armed with more than just a hangover.

 

PHOTOS (top to bottom):

Schmuck 2010
Nicht Dass Du Mir Von Der Blause Fällst at Galerie Für Angewandte Kunst
mine x mine at WITTENBRINKFuenfhoefe
Giampaolo Babetto, L’Italianità dei Gioielli at the Pinakothek der Moderne
Martin Papcún, Untitled brooch, 2009, glass grains, stainless steel
Martin Papcún, Untitled brooch, 2009, glass grains, stainless steel

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Questions and Answers

Art Jewelry Forum

Deganit Stern Schocken is curator of No Problem(?), an exhibition of Israeli contemporary jewelry that recently showed at Gallery Loupe in the United States.

What is No Problem(?)?

It is an exhibition of Israeli contemporary jewelry. The exhibition’s name – No Problem (?) – contrasts the difficulty implied in the word ‘problem’ with the easy nonchalance of the expression ‘no problem’. Creative expression is borne out of the tensions that arise, such as between seriousness and superficiality, or between the real and ever-present problems – especially in a country such as Israel – and the vernacular of indifference that is so common.

Where has it travelled?


The first venue for the exhibition is Loupe Gallery in New Jersey, United States, in 2010. We are working on touring it to additional venues in Europe, Australia and Israel.

How did the exhibition come about?

Out of the necessity to display the work of graduates who work and create in the field of jewelry design. The language of jewelry design contains powers of expression in art which has the ability to react to political and social issues. The aim is to encourage creativity that started while studying and to give it a course of action.

Why did you think it was important to undertake this project?


The Inyanim Group operates in the fields of jewelry-making and jewelry design. It is a language that is used by artists and designers to interpret, understand and respond to the political, social or aesthetic issues that concern them. The group's aim is to create a platform of creative opportunity and legitimacy for the individuals within the group and within a wider social context. The Inyanim Group seeks to influence the public discourse surrounding the role of design in society through the unique and under-represented field of jewelry design.

How did you select the jewellers for the exhibition?

Inyanim was formed by graduates of the two leading Israeli art and design schools, Bezalel and Shenkar which, while championing different and often opposing views regarding design and art, have much in common. The nine members of the Group meet regularly for a process of thinking, listening and creating – like rehearsals before a performance. In ongoing exhibitions, the Group then displays its latest ‘harvest’ of works, thus opening a window onto their creative process.

How would you summarise the argument that No Problem(?) makes about contemporary jewellery in Israel?

The Group’s work displays a wide spectrum of contradictions, such as between beauty and mutation, between imperfection and the desire for the ideal. As the members of Inyanim operate from within the intellectual discipline of jewelry-making, or by incorporating external content from areas such as art, philosophy or social issues, they negotiate the space between image, object and language. The works exhibited here are in the spirit of momentary truths that may change and evolve the next day, just as the Group’s work continues to evolve. This stance supports the inherent transience of the ideas, materials and technologies used by artists, and their tendency to change. Notably, this seeming contradiction undercuts the permanence and immortality traditionally associated with jewelry. Dealing with this contradiction and its accompanying tensions is of relevance to the language of jewelry-making and jewelry design.

Do you think that nationality is a very useful way to think about contemporary jewellery? What is Israeli about Israeli contemporary jewellery?

Living and creating in Israel implies coping with difficult problems, with extreme situations, with a survival necessity to say ‘no problem!’. There is absolutely a place for expressing relevant issues and feelings in contemporary jewelry in Israel.
 

 


 

 

 

 

PHOTOS (top to bottom):
 
Shirly Bar-Amotz
Zoo: Bunny 2 brooch
teflon plated copper, 18K gold, silver, zircon, 35 x 60 x 20 mm

Dana Seachuga
Hollow cries brooch
ivory, deer horn, pearls, silver, stainless steel, nail polish, 60 x 80 mm

Deganit Stern Schocken
Figure of speech: The eye pendant, stainless steel, polystyrene, silver, gold, zircon, 60 x 135 mm

Gregory Larin
Fragmentations: invasion necklace, silver, plastic, 110 x 50 mm

Rory Hooper
Textura #2 brooch, blackened iron, silver, 90 x 55 x 5 mm

Aviv Kinel
Street hearts ring, silver, p.v.c., 40 x 30 mm
 

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Gray Area Symposium Review

Art Jewelry Forum

April 13th, 2010
Gray Area: Day One

At last, after a lot of planning, the Gray Area symposium opened at the Biblioteca de Mexico in Mexico City. For those of you who don’t know, the Gray Area is an ambitious project organized by the Amsterdam-based Otro Diseno Foundation for Cultural Cooperation and Development. As the program notes make clear, ‘Gray Area started as an urgent need: to diversify the international landscape of contemporary jewellery. Which turned into an idea: that of bringing enthusiastic jewellery devotees together in an unfamiliar, yet exciting place’. Taking place over five days, the symposium brings together speakers from Europe and Latin America (with a sprinkling of other countries) in what is effectively an attempt at cultural mediation – to insert Latin American jewelry into a European and then global jewelry discussion. (You can read more about the Gray Area symposium and associated exhibitions by clicking here.)

The first day of the symposium was dedicated to a fairly straightforward question: ‘What does it mean to us? Jewellery, identity and communication’. It won’t surprise you to learn that the answers proved not to be straightforward at all, as the various presentations and panel discussions raised a number of important issues that are currently impacting on contemporary jewelry practice around the world.

Dutch jeweler Manon van Kouswijk opened with a paper called ‘Gray matter: no brain, no gain’. Beginning with a whimsical reflection on her present position as head of jewelry at the Rietveld Academy in a building that is painted Rietveld grey, van Kouswijk effectively asked a series of questions that were designed to introduce the theme. What is the grey area? The space between commercial and art jewelry? Between craft and production? Between the head and the heart, the head and the hands? It was a nicely positioned talk in terms of the larger cultural dynamic of the conference, with van Kouswijk speculating on how a European can take part in a discussion located in a part of the world about which they know very little, and asking what is left to exchange in a mediated environment when nearly everything is available in books or on the internet. Speaking in front of a steady stream of images pulled from different times and places, van Kouswijk’s paper was a plea for a subtly located making – quite different to her deterritorialized slide show, in which objects and images flowed together without regard for cultural and historical specificity.

Caroline Broadhead, a British jeweler who is head of the jewelry department at Central St Martins in London, was up next with a paper titled ‘Ways of seeing: the body as an area for experimentation; interaction between jewel, wearer and viewer’. She spoke about vision, about ways of seeing and not seeing, particularly from the perspective of the viewer, who relies primarily on looking in order to encounter the jewelry – unlike the wearer, who has access to various bodily and sensory information in their encounter with the work. The value of Broadhead’s presentation was as an introduction to a variety of contemporary practices more or less familiar to the audience, which had the encouraging effect of demonstrating how rich and critically engaged contemporary jewelry can be. She also played the potentially risky game of positioning contemporary jewelry alongside contemporary fine art, and asking it to stand or fall on its merits. The conclusion seemed to be that the best contemporary jewelry can indeed play with the big boys (and girls) of the art world, and that it has something notable to say about both the body and vision. It was also notable to see the role of photography in experimental contemporary jewelry, a means of fixing temporary effects or staged tableau, and a reminder of how ubiquitous photography is in our experience of work, shaping how and what we see in the absence of the actual object.

The third talk of the morning, by Colombian archaeologist Clemencia Plazas, was called ‘American cosmovision through metals’, and turned back in time to the history of metals and technologies of pre-conquest Latin America. Her paper was a classic display of archaeology, coming with x-rays of objects, for example, so we could establish precisely how they were constructed, and offering a series of close readings of objects in terms of manufacture and then the social or cultural uses to which these objects were put. Plazas discussed the symbolic potential of metals, such as gold and platinum, the ways in which these metals were worked, and the types of jewelry or body adornment that were popular. Nose rings, for example, were close to breath, which means life. A spiral nose ring represented energy that penetrates and at the same time leaves the body, and different forms of nose rings had aesthetic potential, disguising or obscuring the face in quite different ways.

(left:The use and meaning of materials for different cultures session)
After lunch Plazas gave another paper in a session called ‘The use and meaning of materials for different cultures’, expanding on the cosmological implications of metal, and the way such materials as gold and silver mediated between the three realms of life in the Americas: the superworld above, our world in the middle, and the intraworld below. The superworld is the place of sunlight, associated with white or yellow, and thus gold. This is the male domain, the rational world and a place of linear thought. The intraworld is its opposite, the place of darkness, represented by black or blue. This is the world of the feminine, a space of rebirth, of intuitive and circular thinking. The human world, the place of sky, water and land, requires all the cosmological forces in balance to guarantee fertility. Materials like gold and silver were used symbolically in objects designed to achieve balance. Plazas made the very interesting point that the development of metallurgy in Latin America was linked to ritual and the cosmos, whereas in Europe metallurgy was closely tied to the practical world, to technology and economics.

Spanish jeweler Ramon Puig Cuyas, who is head of jewelry at the Escola Massana, talked about the importance of materials to jewelry practice, suggesting that materials are critical to jewelry in a way that they are not for other fine art practices, like sculpture. The issue is not which materials, but that materials are the starting point – meaning that you cannot speak about jewelry without the language of materials. Jewelry has always been a vehicle for extraordinary symbolism, which is why humans have always looked for extraordinary materials to use for it. And he suggested that the dialog of materials is what links contemporary jewelry to its past, to its jewelry traditions, even as it moves into the fine art world. As the scientist explores the nature of the materials of the universe to unlock secrets and knowledge of the world we live in, so the jeweler explores their materials in a similar way, with the same experimental intention and opportunity for discovery.

The final session of the day was a round table discussion, returning to the theme of ‘what does it mean to us?’ The participants were Liesbeth den Besten, an art historian from the Netherlands, French jeweler Benjamin Lignel, Mexican jeweler Jorge Manilla, who is a professor at the St Niklaas Academy in Belgium, Peruvian jeweler Ximena Briseno, who is currently studying in Australia, Mexican art critic Jose Manuel Springer, and myself (Damian Skinner). Everyone began by discussing the practice of contemporary jewelry in their country of origin, and addressed, if only briefly, some of their questions and perspectives on the meaning of contemporary jewelry. Den Besten spoke about her notion of contemporary jewelry as a kind of faith, demanding belief and commitment, as opposed to design’s interest in seduction without commitment. Lignel talked about his background as a designer, and his challenge to the doctrine of originality within contemporary jewelry, and his belief that there is no requirement for him to make or fabricate his work. Manilla spoke about the importance of honesty and integrity in contemporary jewelry, which will guarantee the value of any given work. Briseno asked about the way in which contemporary jewelry in Latin America is engaging with jewelry practices from Europe and North America, and whether this is a relationship of servitude, of unhealthy emulation. And Springer spoke about the personal potential of jewelry in constructing identity and the self, and concluded that the value of contemporary jewelry is in its lack of easy classification, its liminal or intermediate role. This, he noted, is contemporary jewelry’s best quality, its most productive characteristic.

These presentations were followed by a period of robust discussion and questions from the floor, which debated the differences between contemporary jewelry and design (and the issue of how an object addresses needs and desires), the relation of art and craft (and the potential of jewelry in a time when fine art is seeking to become more relational, to move away from its autonomous status), and the double nature of jewelry as objects to wear and display.
 

April 14th, 2010
Gray Area: Day Two


(left:Ruudt Peters’s artist talk)
The second day of the Gray Area symposium saw a few conference attendees looking worse for wear after a late night partying in Mexico City. The theme for the day was ‘Two sides of the same coin: the state of contemporary jewellery’, and much of the day was given over to artist talks. Ruudt Peters (The Netherlands), Manon van Kouswijk (The Netherlands), Jorge Manilla (Mexico-Belgium), Martha Hryc (Poland-Mexico), Beate Eismann (Germany), Mirla Fernandes (Brazil) and Jiro Kamata (Japan-Germany) all presented their jewelry practices in talks that ranged from the serious to the side-splittingly funny. (Single biggest laugh: a video of Jiro Kamata in action making his rings of gold and sellotape marked with lipstick kisses.)

(right:Jiro Kamata, without lipstick)
While the jewelry was quite different, the presentations followed a general pattern: a cute baby photo, a brief biography, a precocious encounter with adornment in which the speaker’s future as a jeweler is revealed, and finally descriptions of their work and practice. In a few cases the talks were about history that flowed over and around the jewelry, setting the scene but refusing to explain the work. Some thoughts: in the east they give things to objects, in the west we take things away from objects (Ruudt Peters); standardized objects such as wedding rings are deeply personal and individualized, a contradiction that feeds investigation (Manon van Kouswijk); jewelry opens the wearer’s heart and reveals it to others (Jiro Kamata). There were others, but some of the ideas were (literally) lost in translation, the Spanish to English interpreters doing a good job but sometimes introducing a poetry that, on top of unfamiliar histories and practices, made it difficult to keep up.

(left:Monica Gaspar, beaming into the Gray Area symposium via teleconference)
The artist talks bracketed Monica Gaspar’s ‘Versions of contemporary jewellery: differences, affinities, and influences between Europe and Latin America’, a talk delivered by teleconference. Gaspar’s paper was wide-ranging and provocative, addressing many of issues that structure a complicated project like Gray Area with its attempt at cultural mediation between Latin America and Europe. Gaspar began by quoting an art historical study of Spanish jewelry from 1500-1800, which suggested that the European discovery of the New World not only initiated a new period of globalization, but inspired European jewelry practices. Motifs from Aztec art, for example, began to turn up in Spanish jewelry, and objects engaging with the art of Latin America made it as far as the Medici in Italy. In other words, the evolution of jewelry in Europe can be linked to the encounter with Latin America.
Gaspar talked about the politics of centre and periphery, of being at the centre and being at the edge, and the series of questions that come with this hierarchy: where is the idea of contemporary jewelry produced and managed, and for whom? As she pointed out, these issues are not a problem for a European/Latin American encounter, but play a role in her experience as a writer and curator from southern Europe (Spain) traveling to central Europe (Germany, for example) where jewelry is dominant. As she tellingly suggested, when she visited the Schmuck exhibition in Munich in 1997 for the first time, she felt exotic, even though Barcelona had been a centre of contemporary jewelry since the 1950s. While she didn’t talk about this, the fact that she was curator of Schmuck 2010 must have been on people’s minds as one example of outsider successfully transforming their status into an insider – and a promising sign that the premise of the Gray Area project might be successfully realized.

One of the best aspects of Gaspar’s talk was the way she analyzed the Gray Area blog – the place where interaction between European and Latin American jewelers in the Gray Area exhibition took place – as a kind of fictional cartography, an imaginary space of encounter created out of various narratives (personal stories, stories of the workshop, stories of self and other, and stories of misunderstandings and mistranslations). (To visit the Gray Area blog, click here.) While Gaspar was not insensitive to the politics of North/South interaction, with Europeans coming from an undoubted position of dominance, she also argued that the conditions of the interaction (such as the blog, the time zone differences, the use of English as a global language) have created a particular space in which the Gray Area takes place. This is not a space like the ones we each inhabit, but a new space/place brought into being by the conditions of the project. And these conditions are the causal factors for a new geography in which interesting things can take place. What was so exciting about this is that Gaspar provided a way to escape the conclusions of centre and periphery power relations, without acting like this dynamic isn’t a real problem. She provided, in other words, an agency for the Gray Area, an ability to act and to engage which was still informed and political and grounded in the real world.
(left: Xavier Andrade)
Xavier Andrade, an anthropologist from Ecuador, gave a paper called ‘Jewellery in Ecuador: practices, dialogues, flux’. He focused on the work of Santiago Ayala, a traditional healer who makes commercial jewelry to fund his more experimental pieces, and whose work deals with his experiences as a healer; and Hugo Celi, a shaman who studied anthropology and then jewelry, and whose work is concerned with recovering old practices, often through the use of found photographs. Andrade’s talk was a glimpse of a kind of jewelry that sits outside or apart from contemporary jewelry, and yet speaks directly to the conditions, practices and functions of jewelry in Latin America. It was excellent to escape the small and sometimes claustrophobic world of contemporary jewelry, and to have a new set of dynamics introduced into the conversation. Andrade also offered an anthropological critique of concepts like culture and identity, and made the point that such terms are often bandied about in a simplistic manner. Culture, he said, is a process not a thing, and contemporary art (understood in its widest sense) often talks about identity in an essentialist and stereotypical way. My feeling is that because we want to believe that contemporary jewelry is a powerful agent that transforms social relationships, we tend to think about concepts like culture and identity in an active way, but it was nice to be kept on our toes.

(right: Iker Otriz, Marlen Piloto and Ana Paula de Campos in ‘The role of art and design academies’ session)
The final session of the day was a round table dealing with ‘The role of art and design academies in the encouragement of formal and conceptual experimentation in jewellery’. There were six participants: Ramon Puig Cuyas, from the Escola Massana in Spain, Marlen Piloto, from the Academy of Fine Art in Cuba, Andres Fonseca, from UNAM in Mexico, Manon van Kouswijk, from the Rietveld Academy in The Netherlands, Iker Otriz, from the Centro Diseno in Mexico, and Ana Paula de Campos from a Brazilian university (a late addition, and not listed in the program). Each person gave a short introduction about their particular ideas regarding the role of education in contemporary jewelry, and then the session was opened to questions from the audience.

It was interesting to have the opportunity to learn more about the various institutions in Latin America that teach contemporary jewelry, and it was also notable how similar the philosophies of education were. The round table, then, was part an introduction to the infrastructure of jewelry education in Latin America, and part a commentary about how contemporary jewelry should be taught, the issues that are impacting on education. It was less about how teaching institutions encourage formal and conceptual experimentation. One conclusion was that schools should be in advance of society, creating students for what the world will need in the future, not what is taking place now. And there was general agreement that trying to create contemporary jewelry specialists in three years is not going to work very well.
 
April 15th, 2010
Gray Area: Day Three

(left: Claudia Bretancourt and Ricardo Pulgar)
The third day of the Gray Area symposium had a late start, giving people time to recover after a late night learning to dance Mexican style. The theme, ‘Two sides of the same coin: the state of contemporary jewellery’ was a continuation of Day Two, and most of the presentations were artist talks. Claudia Betancourt and Ricardo Pulgar from Walka Studio in Chile kicked off with an interesting discussion of their practice, and in particular their engagement with what people in Chile call ‘chilentity’ – and the materials that might help articulate an identity that is sometimes subconscious. Migration, they concluded, is being transformed, and their story involved a change of scene to Melbourne, and a cultural investigation informed by the dynamic of living away from home.

(right: Sara O’Hana, Fortuny)
Sarah O’Hana, from the University of Manchester in England, was up next with a talk called ‘Crossing boundaries’, in which she explored her decision to negotiate the frontier between engineering and contemporary jewelry, and in particular her use of laser technology to create color effects on metal. While she presented an interesting tale of science and art – and, as a colleague noted, she managed to tame technology, avoiding the aesthetic trap that technical experimentation offers to the undisciplined jeweler – her session was missing a companion talk by Raul Ybarra on pre-Colombian metalsmithing techniques. This meant that a certain amount of context was missing, and it was hard to see how her paper (quite technical, and a border crossing of art and science) linked to the larger themes of the conference.

(left: Felieke van der Leest, Camouflage deer)
Dutch jeweler Felieke van der Leest was a complete hit with her talk called ‘The zoo of life’. The story of her life and jewelry practice, and notably her fascination with animals and the use of crochet techniques, elicited a number of spontaneous emotions from the audience: clapping when van der Leest showed her camouflaged deer, and ohhing and ahhing when she showed her pregnant polar bear with baby.

(right: Nanna Melland, 687 year)
Nanna Melland from Norway also gave an informative presentation of her work, not only in terms of explaining her practice but also in terms of her transformation from traditional goldsmith to contemporary jewelry. Particularly impressive was how clearly she articulated the relationship between the conceptual scope of her pieces, and the process of their manufacture. This, and her willingness to present ambivalent pieces of dubious beauty – ‘that force the viewer to contemplate matter that is neither social nor pleasing’- drew strong positive reactions from the crowd.

(left: Francisca Kweitel and Estela Saez Vilanova)
Francisca Kweitel from Argentina and Estela Saez Vilanova from Spain and the Netherlands staged a dialog that was in perfect keeping with the conference’s agenda as a kind of cultural mediation and encounter between Europe and Latin America. Sitting at the front of the stage, they took turns introducing themselves and their countries and cultures of origin. It was a great gimmick, perfectly tuned. Not only was it a great demonstration of the dynamic of exchange that underpins the Gray Area, but there was beautiful warmth generated by knowingly trading cultural stereotypes, of playing off against each other’s presentation. For example, Argentineans love to touch but only kiss on the cheek once, whereas the Dutch are much more physically reserved but they kiss on the cheek three times. And it was telling, too. There are 50 years of contemporary jewelry in the Netherlands, but in Argentina it is a much more recent tradition. In the Netherlands there is lots of government support, a major educational institution, and a number of galleries that exhibit and sell contemporary jewelry, but in Argentina there is really nothing equivalent in the way of infrastructure.

Nuria Carulia, a pioneering contemporary jeweler from Colombia, gave a paper called ‘In search of identity: contemporary jewellery in Colombia and its contribution to the craft field’, in which she surveyed the state of the field, and gave an important insight to the infrastructure – or more precisely, its lack – that supports contemporary jewelry in many Latin American countries. One of the most interesting things she talked about was Colombian contemporary jewelry’s responsibility to cultural preservation and regeneration. She was not the first person to talk about this responsibility that contemporary jewelry seems to assume in Latin America, and it was fascinating to see such a distinctive difference between contemporary jewelry in Europe and this part of the world.

Carulia talked about the importance of filigree in Colombian jewelry, and its transformation from an import of Spanish colonization to an important expression of Colombian culture and identity. This theme was picked up in Ximena Briceno’s talk, titled ‘A trans-Pacific technique: Filigree in Australia’. A two-part presentation in which Briceno discussed the history of filigree as an expression of complex cultural relations and trade, and then her reinterpretation of filigree in her own jewelry in terms of her Australian context, Briceno’s talk was a good example of adornment’s complexity, of jewelry’s rich analytical possibilities, its historical importance.
(right: Miguel Luciano, Pure plantainum)
Miguel Luciano, a Puerto Rican artist living in America, paralleled the complexity of Briceno’s historical presentation with a recent project he completed that drew on jewelry forms to unpack the flows and eddies of cultural identity and politics of being Puerto Rican. ‘Pure plantainum’ is a plantain coated with platinum, the fruit inside rotting while the thin skin of metal remains unblemished. Transformed into bling and modeled with attitude by a young Puerto Rican man, the photograph has achieved an iconic status. Luciano spun a smart story of the plantain’s cultural dimensions, and its implication for narratives of racism and narratives of cultural survival within Puerto Rican society.
The afternoon concluded with a roundtable tackling the ‘Management and promotion of contemporary jewellery in Latin America’. Featuring Marina Malinelli Wells (Argentina), Ofelia Murrieta (Mexico), Mirla Fernandes (Brazil), Monica Benitez (Mexico) and Carolina Rojo (Spain), the session struck an odd note with its focus on silver jewelry that seemed to be aligned much more with mass production and conventional design. This was not contemporary jewelry in the sense that this term has been used during the rest of the Gray Area conference. I found myself wondering if I wasn’t experiencing a potential misunderstanding that is growing as the conference progresses. If this is considered contemporary jewelry in Latin America, then we are talking about a very different kind of practice to what is meant by that term in Europe and other parts of the world. (E.g. the work that the speakers presented in this round table would never be accepted for the Schmuck exhibition.) This would suggest that those of us not from this part of the world require more history in order to understand correctly, since the notion of contemporary jewelry we import with us is clearly inadequate as a framework to understand contemporary jewelry from Latin America. And if this isn’t contemporary jewelry, then I am left wondering why the round table didn’t address the subject of how contemporary jewelry is presented and promoted in this part of the world – an important issue if we are to map the potential of the Gray Area as a moment of dialog and transformation.

April 17th, 2010
Gray Area: Day Four

The final day of the Gray Area symposium kicked off with a talk by Jurgen Eickhoff from Galerie Spektrum in Munich. Titled ‘The jewellery – the gallery – the future’, Eickhoff’s presentation was partly a history of the gallery he co-founded in 1981 and an analysis of the problems and opportunities facing the dealer gallery system, and in turn the infrastructure of contemporary jewelry. Dealer galleries, he noted, are a conduit between jeweler and audience, and they support makers, develop audiences and provide connections to public galleries. Overall, Eickhoff’s prognosis was negative – or perhaps melancholic is a better description. While he described a definite growth in the quality (and quantity) of contemporary jewelry being produced, he also noted the aging population of both gallery owners and contemporary jewelry collectors, and talked about a reduction in the applied arts programs, and general commitment towards contemporary jewelry, on the part of museums and galleries.

(right: Liesbeth den Besten)
Next up was Dutch art historian Liesbeth den Besten, who talked about ‘Private passion: the art of collecting wearable art’. Explaining at the beginning that she hated the term ‘wearable art’, never used it but this time fell under the spell of the rhythms of language, den Besten went on to give a wide-ranging presentation about the history and issues of collecting contemporary jewelry.

Art jewelry, she said, is made by artists who use jewelry as a medium for artistic expression. It bears the signature of an individual maker, and it liberates jewelry from private sentiment and ritual significance. Contemporary jewelry is a single aesthetic unity, and this stops it from being able to be recycled or reset – as frequently happens with conventional or precious materials jewelry – since to do so would be to destroy an art work, to ruin an artistic statement. The rest of den Besten’s talk was a survey of different collectors and collecting institutions – including AJF, which, in her opinion, helps to link collectors with makers, and to restore a dynamic to the contemporary jewelry scene that is much closer to the way it used to be in the pioneering days of collectors such as AJF member Helen Drutt.

(left: Christina Filipe)
Christina Filipe from Portugal introduced the history and activities of PIN, which was established in 2004 to promote contemporary jewelry. PIN is the Portuguese Association of Contemporary Jewelry, and it is involved with promotion, training, educational events and residencies at both a national and international level. Filipe’s talk confirmed one of the big themes of Day Four: the feeling that taking action and working hard is the best way to address the relationship between Latin American and European jewelry. And it was inspiring to see how actively and enthusiastically organizations such as PIN and others tackle issues like the lack of infrastructure or the paucity of contact between their local jewelry communities and the rest of the world, often with very few resources. It is clear that you can achieve a great deal if you set up an organization and create events, and Portuguese contemporary jewelry is more widely recognized because of PIN’s activities. It isn’t necessarily clear what difference such activities make in the long term (PIN has only been going for six years) but it certainly can’t but help by opening up channels of communication between Portugal and the rest of the world.

(right: Jose Manuel Springer, Andres Fonseca, Andrea Wagner and Valeria Vallarta)
The round table titled ‘Dialogues of the Gray Area’ included ValeriaVallarta (one of the conference organizers, and co-curator of the Walking the Gray Area exhibition), Jose Manuel Springer (Mexico), Andrea Wagner (The Netherlands, and co-curator of the Walking the Gray Area exhibition), Carolina Hornauer (Chile), Hanna Hedman (Sweden), Andres Fonseca (Mexico-Colombia), Ineke Herkens (The Netherlands) and Miguel Luciano (Puerto Rico). The purpose of the session was to explore the dynamics of cultural mediation and exchange that informed the Walking the Gray Area exhibition, in which Latin American and European jewelers were paired and asked to dialog with each other on the Gray Area blog. Like most of the round tables, the opportunity was lost under a series of too-long presentations that swallowed up the time available for actual dialog. This was more bitter than usual because the interactions that were in some cases presented in painstaking detail were available for reading/viewing on the blog, and the audience received information and images that they were going to see again that evening at the opening of the exhibition. Still, it was interesting to hear of both successful and unsuccessful interactions between artists, and to get a greater sense of the project from the perspective of the curators.

(left: Ricardo Domingo)
‘In search of the missing DNA: From contemporaneity to commercialization’ was a talk given by Ricardo Domingo, a jewelry maker and marketer from Spain. This was a bemusing and entertaining talk, with Domingo being an enthusiastic presenter (as one colleague noted to me afterwards, it was as though he was dancing) and offering a useful reminder that branding is a critical aspect of success for any jeweler – whether in the world of design or conventional jewelry, or at the high end of the contemporary jewelry scene. The almost audible groans of the audience as Domingo trotted out some pretty crass examples of design and marketing at the beginning of his talk gave way to (a grudging?) respect as he began to speak about contemporary jewelry, and even though some of his suggestions of branding techniques would not work for contemporary jewelry, it did provocatively suggest that marketing strategies might be able to bring contemporary jewelry into better contact with its audience, and left me wondering why we don’t act more like marketers in how we approach our field. Probably the most profound piece of advice came from Domingo’s father, who told him: "do whatever you want, but be a man of your time."

(right: Ricardo Pulgar, Benjamin Lignel, Martha Camargo Lawrance and Christina Filipe)
The final session of Day Four was another round table, called ‘The positioning of jewellery in a truly global context’. The audience, thinned by the attrition of conference fatigue, were treated to a discussion between five panelists: Christina Filipe (Portugal), Benjamin Lignel (France), Ricardo Pulgar (Chile), Mirla Fernandez (Brazil), and Damian Skinner (myself). The session was thrown open to questions from the audience and the result was an interesting grappling with the larger themes of the Gray Area conference. How do you address the imbalance of power between Europe and Latin America? Who defines what contemporary jewelry is? What is the difference between an individual experience and a national experience in terms of globalization? What is required to ensure Latin America is represented at a global level? Sometimes spirited, always passionate and warm, it was a suitable ending to four days of intense encounters and stimulating exchange.
 


 

 

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The Train to Lilliput

Art Jewelry Forum

Uncharacteristically, I boarded a train at four in the morning on Friday 22 January 2010 for an eight-hour trip to Richmond, Virginia. I had not ridden a northbound train from the South since I was a junior in high school. What could possibly be my motivation, you wonder? Why, a jewelry exhibition of course! But not just any jewelry exhibition. It was a chance to visit over forty brooches by Robin Kranitzky and Kim Overstreet. If you read my review of the book that accompanied their Finland exhibition, you have some idea of my fascination with and devotion to their jewelry. Eight hours of clicketty-clack was a small price to pay for such an opportunity. There was another lure as well. The artists would be presenting a demonstration of their techniques and materials Saturday afternoon. I might get to meet them, and would certainly add to my understanding of the work. Besides, it might be a grand adventure, and I was due one.

The exhibition, Fragments of Our Imagination: Narrative Jewelry by the Collaborative Partnership of Kranitzky & Overstreet, delivered on every level. Over forty works were beautifully displayed and exquisitely lit in the Visual Arts Center of Richmond. No more than four pieces were shown in each vitrine, each occupying its own façade. Brooches were angled perfectly for viewing, and the gallery’s supply of magnifying glasses only added to one’s enjoyment of these miniature worlds. One wall contained a ‘Cabinet of Curiosities’ taken directly from the artists’s workspace. The array and diversity of material was dizzying. In each of the three exhibition spaces, one wall was occupied by only one brooch in a wall vitrine. Each brooch was chosen perhaps to allow the lighting to illuminate the interiors of the works. They literally glowed. Initially I was disappointed that the curator had offered no statement or other clue as to the selection and arrangement of the works. After spending some hours with the works, I believe I understand why.

Kranitzky and Overstreet’s dioramas are multi-layered, both in construction and meaning. Standing opposite each and leaning forward with a magnifying glass, one is drawn into each private complex world. There is a sense that if given enough time, one might fall into these worlds much as Alice fell into the rabbit hole. Living in Kranitzky and Overstreet’s worlds might offer the same sense of disorientation, thrill, and danger as Wonderland. Some place I might prefer to live in, others I’d rush to escape, but I would be richer for spending any time in these other worlds.

The demonstration was yet another joy. The same symbiosis that pervades their work is evident in their manner and friendship. It was as if fifty of their closest friends had been invited over for chitchat. We learned of the transformation of the most mundane raw materials into moving water, dangerously tangled brush, and ancient appearing mosaics. Their techniques confirmed that no shortcuts exist in creating their pieces. The number of steps from concept to completion is staggering.

Most important was getting a sense of what motivates Kranitzky and Overstreet. They never used the word ‘content’, and did not tell us how their ideas arose. But it is clear to me now that ideas from each coalesce and a narrative is born. Indeed nothing about them or their work seems contrived. It is as if a flow of ideas pauses long enough to form a pool. Each pool is a brooch.

After the demonstration, I went back to look at the works in the exhibit with more informed eyes. I noticed the sublime use of materials from nature, the array of other materials used in each piece, and the way the artists assure that light becomes an integral part of each work. More importantly, I answered my question about curatorial decisions. I recognized for the first time that chronology might not be critically important to the understanding of an artist’s output. Brooches from 1989 rested next to those from 2010. The same devotion to craftsmanship and content was evident regardless of when a piece was created. As familiar as I am with their work, I realize that I cannot date a work from my observation of it. The jewelry of Kranitzky and Overstreet is literally timeless.

As to the train ride, that is a story of another kind. But as I boarded the Silver Star back to my home, I knew that I had eight uninterrupted hours to savor and digest my experience. A grand adventure indeed.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

PHOTOS (top to bottom):


Robin Kranitzky and Kim Overstreet
Wooing, 1989, mixed media brooch #1495, 2 1/4 x 3 ¾ inches
Private Collection

Fragments of our imagination exhibition

Robin Kranitzky and Kim Overstreet diorama

Fragments of our imagination exhibition

Fragments of our imagination exhibition

Robin Kranitzky and Kim Overstreet
Divine magic, 2007, mixed media, 4 3/8 x 2 3/4 x 1 inches

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Notes on Excess

Art Jewelry Forum

Considering the work featured in Adornment and Excess: Jewelry in the 21st Century within the context of decadence seems particularly appropriate. In organizing the exhibition, I deliberately incorporated those dealing with consumption, luxury and excess on multiple levels—as it relates to jewelry and also as it relates to capitalist consumerism. In the Western world (speaking very generally) there are a lot of “things”—objects made, consumed and discarded. As I wrote in my catalogue essay:

The current global economic crisis forefronts concerns about luxury, consumption and excess. The residue of this unrest, perhaps on a psychological more than material level, coupled with the broader conversation regarding natural resources and consumer production, necessarily and significantly impacts the metaphorical construction of wealth, power and status. All of these art jewelers address this topic and weave a web that connects past and present, social dynamics and body adornment. They engage in considerations of material and metaphorical meaning and their address of the concepts of “luxury,” “consumption” and “excess” are fluid and dynamic.

Gemstones and the history of jewelry as a signifier of luxury (and decadence) are ever present in this conversation. Those who take on the topic of luxury via the context of history (such as Yevgeniya Kaganovich, Kimberlie Tatalick, Erin Rose Gardner, The Opulent Project, Yael Friedman, and emiko oye) do so without using luxurious materials. For example, Erin Rose Gardner uses mass-produced “diamond” engagement rings that are compelling yet disturbing and that link the conversation about capitalism to feeling and emotion—so many rings, so much manufactured sentiment.
emiko oye’s LEGO neckpieces based on royal jewelry are exaggerations of their antecedents (their largesse addressing the decadence  of the original gemstones in a tongue-in-cheek kind of way).

Several of those involved with this exhibition are dealing with material ‘excess’ as it is reflected in the reuse and repurposing of objects already made, bought, sold or discarded—a fact that ultimately brings us back to what luxury could mean even beyond the context of jewelry (as it relates to the amount of what is produced and the amount of what is cast away). These artists investigate and draw attention to capitalist practices and their material choices not only echo an embrace of non-precious materials by decades of jewelry makers but also reinforce the prevalence of available material in a material-driven culture. In my catalogue essay I wrote:

New objects are being created but—either through choice of material or mode of production—they confront the very existence of the volume of other objects being produced daily across the globe. By changing the flow of goods (recovering some materials, renegotiating the space within which the jewelry operates), this jewelry highlights current critical conversations of sustainability, wealth and social status and personal responsibility. However, the conversation with “excess” does not end there. Within a modern Western context, jewelry can be inexpensive and fashionable or very expensive (and, perhaps, still connected to fashion). Yet, its relationship with notions of excess can extend beyond cost or number to form and design. What is excessive, opulent and ostentatious today? How does the manipulation of materials and content effect concepts of ornament and display?

For example, Meg Drinkwater creates necklaces and earrings comprised of found costume jewelry. There is a doubling of excess here, both the actual accumulation of multiple gold and pearl necklaces and the mimicking, in the form of costume jewelry, of luxurious materials. As I put it in the catalogue for Adornment and Excess, ‘Her rescue and re-use of the found jewelry is made all the more poignant when we consider that for all that she rescued there is still that much more out there. The conglomerations and piles of chains are simultaneously appealing and unsettling…some pieces are encased in resin as if the “preciousness” of these discarded goods needed to be preserved . . .’

Others such as Anya Kivarkis directly connect jewelry to value, status, image, luxury and decadence. The brooches and earrings in her Vanishing Point series address the ambiguity of status as a social construct. From my catalogue:

Kivarkis’ jewels—of silver, white gold and auto paint—are representations of million dollar objects as conveyed via image—details are obscured and turned into flat spaces, necklaces and earrings are rendered as the light captures them, with areas obscured and imperfectly translated. Lavish adornment becomes silhouette and diminished form. Throughout much of her recent work, Kivarkis has asked questions about the context of jewelry as an object of creative construction, as an outgrowth of personal taste or aspiration and as a mode of communication—luxury is always viewed through the lens of a question and, by implication, the culture and people who define it.
And, yes, there is a tension in this investigation. The abundance of objects are the result of someone’s labor at one level or another—it is not as if this particular group of artists, as whole, is calling for a revolution of capitalism or a complete restructuring of the whole system (whether that is good or bad). They do seem, however, to be self-aware of their role and the potential power of the conversation they could raise. Both Gabriel Craig and the Ethical Metalsmiths take on the intersection of luxury, decadence and materiality in a way that engages the community-at-large and directly undercuts contemporary mechanisms of consumer culture—their projects reiterate the importance of handmade jewelry (and, consequently, other handmade goods) and play on the idea of jewelry as an object of exchange as well as carrier of meaning on multiple levels. Here’s how I describe this in my catalogue essay:

In order to provide a vernacular context for handmade jewelry, Gabriel Craig has taken his “studio to the street” for performances that involve dialogue, jewelry production and exchange. Craig’s performance series developed from the recognition that jewelry production is not common knowledge and that the cultural value of jewelry could and should be stressed to a broad public… Not only does he provide insight into a studio process, but he also makes a practice of giving away his work… Craig’s actions undercut practices of consumption and challenge ideas of luxury. His efforts—and, by association, the value associated with it—operates beyond a culture of capitalism while still commenting on it.
Driven to “educate and connect people with responsibly sourced materials,” Ethical Metalsmiths has conceptualized and organized community-based projects under the title of “Radical Jewelry Makeover.” The public is asked to donate their unwanted jewelry (basically, to mine their own homes) to volunteer jewelers and metalsmiths who will use this “excess” to construct new jewelry objects. The new jewels are exhibited and offered for sale. Providing not only a framework in which to understand the mining of resources for jewelry but also a new framework in which to consider material consumption, the Radical Jewelry Makeover events highlight resourcing, process, technique and creativity…The end product is not just the tangible objects—brooches, rings and necklaces that combine past and present—but also the sense of community engendered in the process and the renewal of cast-off objects.

This jewelry develops a new strategy for defining decadence—one concerned with material value, certainly, but also volume and context. They are in concert with larger conversations that affect people across economic lines and social status.

PHOTOS (top to bottom):

Kathy Buszkiewicz
Omnia Vanitas IX
18k gold, U.S. currency and black pearl
Courtesy of the artist

Erin Rose Gardner
Pink Things (brooch)
2009, silver, enamel paint and steel pin back
Courtesy of the artist

Emiko Oye
The Duchess 2 from “My First Royal Jewels Jewellery Collection 2008”, 2008
repurposed LEGO®, rubber cord and sterling silver
Courtesy of the artist

Yael Friedman
White Elephants, 2008
constructed paper
Courtesy of the artist and Gallery Loupe, New Jersey

Meg Drinkwater
Necklace, 2007
resin, found costume pearls, laser cut vellum and paint
Courtesy of the artist

Ethical Metalsmiths
Radical Jewelry Makeover
various sites, 2007-2009, Courtesy of Ethical Metalsmiths

Gabriel Craig
Pro Bono Jeweler performance
Richmond, VA, 2008
Courtesy of the artist




 

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What’s in a name

Art Jewelry Forum Nick Mullins

While attending this year’s SNAG Conference in Houston, a chronic nagging question was amplified. What, exactly, is it that I do? In passing conversations I never seem to be able to explain it to any acceptable degree without endless digressive hurdles. In the simplest terms I set out with the word “jewelry” though even this is a personal conversational concession. The litany of descriptors we can now alter jewelry with can leave a person breathless – art jewelry, contemporary jewelry, sculptural jewelry to name a few. Casual conversations always include “no, I don’t make that kind of jewelry”. And when I start using phrases like “abstract life forms” and “composite resin” people’s faces screw into frustration. When I’m feeling less motivated I just say “I make jewelry out of plastics . . . various plastics”. But it feels condescending both to whomever I’m speaking with, and what it is I like about my work. I’ve spent nine years and borrowed tens of thousands of dollars for two degrees – a BFA with the words “Metalsmithing and Jewelry Making” at the end and an MFA with the alternate “Jewelry and Metal Arts” attached. But I find none of this mixing and matching of terminology to be of any help when trying to actually articulate what it is I do with all of my time.   
 

During a late night conversation with several other attendees in Houston, all friends from the now ubiquitous world wide web, we started talking about our personal beefs with the current state of affairs in the field. “The field” itself is so difficult to pin down, that I find myself returning to a chart in Oppi Untracht’s irreplaceable book Jewelry Concepts and Technology which reads like a sprawling family tree, and in the nearly three decades since its inception that family tree has sprouted innumerable new branches. It became clear that all of us felt like we were outside of some magic circle of inclusion either due to the long tired misnomer of SNAG itself, or the content of the conference, or our exclusion from the various exhibitions that were taking place. I found myself wondering how I had gotten to this point when only a few years prior I had felt so completely “in the fold”. I have not outwardly rejected conference attendance like many close friends and colleagues, but I’ve begun to feel more and more like a tourist. It’s still very much of interest, but my personal level of investment is becoming tenuous. With the sudden resurgence in efforts to change the name itself – Society of North American Goldsmiths – and unload all of its ponderous, colonial sounding exclusory baggage, I can’t be the only one having this dilemma.
 

For me, the shift came when I began electroforming vessels rather than hammer forming them, and spray painting rather than enameling due to structural problems and kiln size limitations. From there it was only a matter of time before the metal itself became secondary to any material that might solve the problem. Knowing that I would soon be out of the academic context and setting up a studio in my home only hastened the transition. This puts the death of my “metalsmithing” career somewhere in the fall of 2007 when I finally traded electroforming for foam and composite resin. Oh, I may dabble in copper still, fabricating elements for the foam and composite resin pieces, but I tend to bury them under layers of paint and epoxy resin to the point of being unrecognizable. I am very aware that this is a decades old debate in our field, and that artists working in alternate materials have been well accepted. But again, the language we use in our field and what is chosen to be held up as the shining example can be a powerful tool to marginalize that work which still falls outside of “metalsmithing”.
 

As a result, the last couple of conferences have left me with a strange disassociated feeling. Thankfully this year there were a few shows and many notable artists who’ve also decided to stop worrying about neat little linguistic lines and just make challenging work. Transmutations: Materials Reborn, curated by Susan Kasson Sloan and shown by the Houston Center for Contemporary Craft, featured work in plastics, though I didn’t know this on my first round. The work spoke more about form, color, and experimentation to me than of what we tend to expect with the word “plastic”. Any exhibition that typically addresses “new” materials, and in particular plastics, tends to look more like someone raided the costume department of some low budget sci-fi movie but without all of the camp and whimsy that might actually make it palatable. Instead there was new work from personal favorites Natalya Pinchuck, Masakoi Onodera, and Masumi Kataoka. There were also many artists I wasn’t yet familiar with, like Lin Stanionis, Rebecca Hannon and Susanne Klemm, whose work I’d either never gotten to see in person or had simply never encountered, which was such a wonderful surprise at a SNAG Conference. 
 

I also really enjoyed the exhibition Extreme Beauty, curated by Kim Cridler at the Glassell School of Art. Not so much new names as work I’d never get to see up close and personal, especially given that I’m tucked away here in Iowa – Karl Frisch, Gijs Bakker, Andrea Wagner, and Constanze Schreiber to name just a few. More importantly, there was work I wouldn’t have expected to see at a SNAG conference, which is typically dominated by student work and a finite number of “approved” artists mostly from within our geographic borders. This means a vast number of international artists are unseen at SNAG even if they are very well-represented by US galleries. I regret that I was shooed out of the Museum of Fine Arts after the Exhibition in Motion and missed the other work on display there. From what I’ve heard and images I’ve seen it would have been very enjoyable.  Had I known, I would have ducked out on the “bustier” portion of the Exhibition in Motion. I’ve since read that the fashion students selected pieces to design around, but it resulted in the segregation of wearable work in two camps. And the first camp was not interesting unless you were inclined to attend fancy dress balls in parking garages. Again this is just my personal opinion and I mean no hostility toward fancy dress balls or parking garages in general. The work in the second half was more conscious of the body, and seemed to contain the more fully realized work making it, I would assume, difficult to comfortably spin off a fashion piece.
 

With regard to current student work, only a few artists have stayed with me. This doesn’t mean that the student work this year was necessarily uninteresting, simply that I had become so oversaturated I’ve come to notice the names that didn’t shake loose with time. These two students – Rachel Timmins who is a graduate student at Towson University, Maryland, and Nick Mullins, a graduate student at the University of Illinois, Champaign-Urbana – were not only a nice change from the current frenzied mining of historical ornament, but also a break from the dry, humorless autobiographical work that seems to be the loudest counterpoint on offer. At Extremities: Exploring the Margins of the Human Body, juried by Andy Cooperman, I found two pieces by Rachel Timmins: I Want To Be A Gold Lobster With Blue Puffs, and I Want To Be A Unicorn. Both pieces were exhibited with photographs to show how they looked when worn – of particular importance for her work given how both were activated on the body, highlighting their absurdity. Rachel’s work is fun as well as fearless, proving that the two aren’t mutually exclusive, and her use of textiles and metal interchangeably speaks to her commitment to her work over material loyalty. 
 

Another student whose work I’ve long enjoyed is Nick Mullins. [Shown above.]  He had several pieces in No Boundaries, SNAG Juried Student Exhibition at the Glassell Junior School Building, MFA, Houston, which was juried by Brigitte Martin and Lena Vigna. Nick’s work is clumsy in the best way – the forms are large and awkward hacked from wood and other found materials. Treated roughly, they come off feeling urgent as if they were made in a sort of frenzied play session resulting in objects that are fun and self-effacing.
 

I realize the work I’m drawn to talks more about my personal taste than about the conference as a whole. And given my lack of sleep and the overload of two gallery nights, I’m sure I’ve overlooked a lot of wonderful work. But there is a predominant homogeneity that should be of concern not just to practicing artists, but to students and educators out there as well. 
 

So where does this leave me in terms of my identity crisis? What do I have left to identify with and what is lost to me? Handwork and the inception of a tactile object is still a source of solidarity for us as makers, even when some of us feel wholly removed from the vast majority of work being made. To be situated in a place between definitions, ahead of language as it struggles to keep up, can be a very satisfying thing. Though I may never be able to fully explain what I do for a living with a casual acquaintance on a bus ride or in an elevator, there’s something exciting about that striving to encapsulate what is happening with contemporary jewelry making. The nebulous state we find ourselves inhabiting can be frustrating, but change is a beautiful and messy thing. You only need to look at the current political climate for a gross magnification of our field’s current polarized state. Paradigm shifts aren’t just inevitable, they’re necessary.

 

 

PHOTOS (top to bottom):
Nick Mullins
Brooch 7
2009
wood, resin, plaster, string, paint
6 x 6 x 2 inches

Nick Mullins
Brooch 7 being worn

Nick Mullins
Brooch 5
2009
foam, resin, wood, string, paint
4 x 4 x 2 inches

Nick Mullins
Brooch 2
2009
resin, wood, paint
6 x 4 x 2 inches

Rachel Timmins
I Want To Be A Gold Lobster With Blue Puffs (detail)

Rachel Timmins
I Want To Be A Gold Lobster With Blue Puffs
2009
found fabric, wool yarn, copper, thread, Poly-Fil stuffing, found gloves
19 x 12 x 4 inches each

Rachel Timmins
I Want To Be A Unicorn
2009
copper, 24k gold leaf, sterling silver, craft glitter, chemical bonding, ribbon, patina
horn: 7 x 3 x 3 inches; hoofs: 4 x 6 x 7 inches each

 

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Schmuck 2010 A report

Art Jewelry Forum

Friday, 5 March 2010

Schmuck 2010 was the center of five fever-pitched days of jewelry and adornment held in Munich, Germany, from the 3rd to the 9th March 2010. Over 30 exhibitions were presented citywide, representing a variety of countries, academic programs and individual studio artists.

From a pool of 600 applicants reigning from 36 countries, Monica Gaspar (Spain) had the insurmountable task of selecting 60 jewelry artists from 28 countries for Schmuck 2010.  The exhibition opened on the first day as part of the Internationalen Handwerksmesse München, the Messe München International (Munich International Trade Fairs) on the former site of Munich’s airport. As I understand it, historically there are few Americans that have been curated into the exhibition, and I was honored to be selected.

I arrived in town on Friday, 5th March. The installation of the show was amazing: a massive glass and aluminum temporary structure that gave each piece the lighting and attention that the work deserved. The gallery was laid out in a manner that moved the spectators around the large oval track with cases lining every inch of the walls. Upon my arrival the exhibition held about a dozen attendees making their way around the displays, purchasing catalogs and snapping photos. This is where I met the director of Schmuck, Eva Sarnowski, who graciously welcomed me to the exhibition and supplied me with all the necessary print materials for the next three days. It was a good choice to have attended the exhibition early, because the following day was the polar opposite, with massive crowds.


I spent time carefully inspecting the cases, seeking out the work of fellow American makers while being introduced to the international jewelry in the exhibition. The United States was represented by Mielle Harvey, John Iversen, Seth Papac, Natalya Pinchuck, Sergey Jivetin and myself. Another important American connection was Cranbrook’s Iris Ichenberg, who represented the Netherlands.

Schmuck was held at the Trade Fair, which also featured an enormous amount of manufactured and handmade goods. ‘Handwerk & Design’, housed in one hall, showed an amazing assortment of craft, design and fine arts. Also in conjunction with Schmuck were four special exhibitions: Exempla 2010, Keramik (Ceramic), Talente 2010, Meister der Moderne 2010 and Frame, also held at the Trades Fair. Exempla was dedicated to the theme of ‘ceramic shapes the earth’, to show how widespread the use of this material is in our daily lives. Works ranged from studio ceramics to architectural master works, and active studios were put on display. It was as if I was looking at a diorama of the contemporary ceramist’s studio.
Talente was a showcase and competition for newcomers (under thirty) representing the next generation of makers. Among the bright young upstarts was Adam Grinovich (US/Sweden). In a departure from his earlier Computer Aided Design (CAD)/Additive Manufactured (AM) work, Grinovich has submerged himself into the currents of contemporary European jewelry. His current pieces combine the structure found in his early work with postindustrial materials.


Frame was another grouping of three galleries presenting alongside the Schmuck 2010 exhibition. The international galleries consisted of Galerie Marzee (Netherlands), Galerie Platina (Sweden) and Galerie Ra (Netherlands). Gallery Ra featured the work of Melanie Bilenker (US).



Meister der Moderne, the ‘Masters of modern times’, presented the best works of internationally renowned contemporary artisans in glass, ceramic, wood, metal, textile and jewelry. Included at Meister der Moderne was the work of the late Aud Charlotte Ho Sook Sinding (Sweden). The whimsical animal head brooches had a visual weight that communicated a series of visually heavy pieces. However, examination of the work (which I was later able to do at the studio/gallery of Mia Maljojoki) revealed how lightweight and wearable the objects were, as they were made from vinyl. I would describe the series as vinyl toy jewelry. (I in no way intend to diminish the work by describing it as toy like, since I thoroughly enjoyed it.) I ran into Helen W. English Drutt, Liesbeth den Besten and Leo Caballero at the studio of Maljojoki, and we viewed many of the pieces together. Departing the studio I sat down for a hurried dinner with jewelers Maljojoki (Germany) and Donna Verveka (US), before we made our way to Munich’s renowned Pinakothek der Moderne.

At the Pinakothek, several hundred people filled the first floor of the museum standing shoulder to shoulder. Despite the crowd, you could not help but notice the students of the Jewelry and Product Design Department, Academy Fine Arts Maastricht (NL), presenting a wonderfully orchestrated display of their work in LED lit clear vinyl handbags, and titled BAGEXPO (the students carried their work venue to venue throughout the city).  The work had a casual appearance, although it had a very formal jewelry structure of connections, findings and finish.


While at the Pinakothek I had the pleasure of seeing Giampaolo Babetto’s L'Italianità dei Gioielli, a fabulous installation of endless vitrines of gold jewelry, with the reds and blues of the enameling techniques lining the massive rotunda’s third floor balcony. The volume of jewelry seemed to self-illuminate among the crowds of viewers.


Departing the museum, a crowd hurried across the street to see Cranbrook Academy Artist in residence Iris Eichenberg’s Birds and flowers of Michigan at Galerie Spektrum.  Yonic petals of nylon-folded pieces are contrasted with cocoon-like mummified birds.  The work was displayed without the traditional cases, which allowed the viewer to get up close and thoroughly inspect it.

Upon our departure, we couldn’t imagine looking at another piece of jewelry – but there it was, another gallery of fabulous pieces and another group of Schmuck goers who joined our ever-growing ‘Schmuck Posse’. With the idea of winding down the evening we made our way to a drinking engagement. The evening (or should I say, the morning) came to a close at the ‘Sick of Schmuck’ party (aka Schluck 6!) for an evening of drinks, music and dancing. It was good to reconnect with people like Susan Cohn (Australia) and I was amazed by the distances people traveled be at Schmuck.

 

Saturday, 6 March 2010
On my second day in Munich I was greeted by several inches of freshly fallen snow. I made my way to meet with friends and tackle the exhibitions as they opened in the city’s posh Schwabing neighborhood. Moving from show to show we were able to take in some impressive work ranging from mid-career exhibitions like AAVISTU, nestled in an all white (floor to ceiling) basement of a design firm, to the recent graduate work of Eternal shine - it´s not a pony, at the Projektraum J. Baumeister, and finally to the work in the exhibition Dialogue 8.
 

 

We were directed to an old foundry in the heart of city, a welcome destination and escape from the snow. The old foundry was gritty and seemed to be slightly ‘cleaned up’ to accommodate the Dialogue 8 exhibition.  The work was casually laid out on strips of brown paper on top of worktables. Each artist was identified by brightly colored neon colored paper signs bearing their names. The exhibition was a response to a project that was seeded by Helen Carnac (Britain) three months prior to the opening. Carnac provided the participants with a series of gifts and asked them to create work inspired by the gifts.

Back at the Schmuck exhibition, the Herbert Hofmann Prize was awarded at the Trade Fair Hall. Since 1973 the award has been presented to up to three distinguished participants per year, commemorating the shows founder Dr. Herbert Hofmann. Prize recipients include John Iversen (US), Mia Maljojoki (DL) and David Bielander (DL). This event was one of the culminating events of the Schmuck week, and highly attended.



Before leaving the Trade Fair for the last time I visited a couple special projects, including Liesbeth den Besten’s ThinkTank: A European Initiative for the Applied Arts. ThinkTank was presenting of their current publication and accompanying exhibition Speed, featuring a selection of sixteen designers (including Ted Noten and Marcel Wanders).
That evening the attendees made their way to the goldsmiths’s beer hall get-together at the famous Marinaplatz. The event was so large that it was held in three banquet rooms.

Sunday, 07 March 2010

On the final day of programming, I decided to spend much of the day exploring. I went to the Pinakothek der Moderne and focused on the Danner-Rotunde, an outstanding collection of contemporary studio jewelry curated by Karl Fritsch. It is probably one of the most (or only) outstanding permanent collections of international work that I had ever witnessed. The jewelry was displayed in a large, arching subterranean gallery, and in peculiar clusters as if to create a forced association between each piece of jewelry.

The annual Schmuck and all the parallel exhibitions are a worthwhile pilgrimage.
Throughout my trip I kept thinking how I had traveled 4,000 miles to really appreciate what we have stateside, but I questioned most the disconnect between the US and European Union (EU) when it comes to jewelry. In the age of digital technologies the dialogue should be further connected. Where is the disconnect, and why? In the US we are excited about, and even long for, the works being made in the EU. Do they feel the same way?
 

Schmuck is a much different event than what is experienced stateside at the Society of North American Goldsmith’s annual conference. Unlike SNAG, the majority of programming that surrounds Schmuck are independent events in response to this exhibition at the Trades Fair. In addition, Schmuck does not present any formal lectures, outside of the Herbert Hofmann Award presentations. Both events are a mechanism to generate discourse. 

We must continue to share the works and the makers on a global level. In the age we live in, it is nearly impossible to not see work that is happening around the world.

PHOTOS (from top to bottom):

Adam Grinovich
Necklace: Function & sense #1: Function 1, 2008
leather, polish, iron, 500 x 105 mm

Melanie Bilener
Necklace and brooch 2008
gold, ebony, resin, pigment, hair

Aud Charlotte Ho Sook Sinding,
Forbidden fruit, silicon,
plastic, gold-plated silver


Kristel Timmermans
Granny brooch
porcelain, BAGEXPO
 

Giampaolo Babetto
L'Italianità dei Gioielli
installation at the Pinakothek der Moderne

Iris Eichenberg,
Flowers and birds of Michigan, 2010
Image by GALERIE SPEKTRUM

Maria Vuorinen (left)
My mourning dress, 2008
image – object installation, photography, collar, featured in AAVISTU

Eternal Shine(right)
it´s not a pony, poster and installation

Dialogue 8
installation

John Iversen (left)
Cutting free armband, 2009
sterling silver, gold, 190 × 70 mm

Mia Maljojoki(middle)
Chain, 2009
dental plaster cast, rubber band, 50 × 110 × 40 mm

David Bielander (right)
Corn cob pendant
2009, split pins
silver, 50 x 260 mm

Marcel Wanders
Airborne snotty vase, 2001
polyamide, 150 x 150 x 150 mm

Danner-Rotunde installation (2 images left to right)
curated by Karl Fritsch


 

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Famous Five:

Seth Papac

to be: (determined) – an exhibition of the first five
26 October – 20 November 2009
The Hatton Gallery, Colorado State University

to be: (determined) – an exhibition of the first five presents a broad survey of contemporary metalsmithing at The Hatton Gallery at the Colorado State University. Exhibition organizer Haley Bates and jurors Sarah Turner and Maria Phillips state that ‘the exhibition showcases artists within the “first five” [years since completing training within the field of jewelry and metalsmithing]: it is an exhibition which offers a moment to encourage momentum, and is an occasion to recognize new developments in the field of jewelry and metalsmithing.’ Although the works represent broad interpretations of tools, jewelry and sculpture, a few themes predominate and sometimes overlap, namely a reconsideration of the ordinary, the notion of the abject and an exploration of the absurd.

Laura Prieto-VelascoSeveral artists including Gabrielle Fitzgibbon, Yong Joo Kim, Jessica Stephens, Seth Papac and Laura Prieto-Velasco make modest materials the subject of their work. Fitzgibbon, Kim and Stephens transform ordinary plastic and foam to create refined pieces of jewelry. Each artist elevates and transforms their material, from everyday to jewel-like. In Fitzgibbon’s necklace, finely cut sheets of mylar glisten like mica; black drinking straws in Kim’s necklace are repackaged as precious bundles of onyx; and Stephens sets like stones colored craft foam, amidst brightly enamel-painted copper. Seth Papac and Laura Prieto-Velasco seem less interested in concealing the humbleness of their materials. Papac plays with the aristocratic origins of parures, but where historic parures might feature gems and fine metalwork, Papac’s parures incorporate obvious bits of trash including deflated balloons, plastic bag scraps, and discarded luggage tags. Prieto-Velasco’s brooches combine strategies found in both Papac’s and Kim’s work. Her carpet tacks and scraps of tape are held together with silver and iron wire to create elegant, gestural forms.

Nathan Dube, Burcu Büyükünal, Sarah Troper and Lauren Vanessa Tickle take a more humorous approach towards their objects. Typically, kids improvise spitball shooters from straws and paper wads, but Dube fabricates elaborate versions of the delinquent’s trade complete with gun site, targets and multiple spitball chambers. Büyükünal’s piece, Redetermined destiny, is more menacing than Dube’s playful spitball weapons. The crisply designed palmistry kit includes jigs that fit over one’s hand and knives intended to recut the lines on one’s palm, ostensibly to create a more desirable future. Troper commemorates the remnants of a carnival by remaking paper tickets and party hats out of steel. Crumpled and creased, the metal hats and tickets freeze in time the aftermath of a party. Tickle makes overt the value of jewelry by employing paper money in lieu of precious metal and gems.

Where humor, a pop sensibility and a lightness of touch mark many of the works in the exhibition, a couple of artists, namely Miel-Margarita Paredes and Maurie Polak also explore the darker aspects of adornment. Paredes creates a series of architectural ornaments that fuse botanical motifs with rodent muzzles. At first glance her work seems innocuous, a minimal pattern on the gallery’s back wall. Upon closer inspection, however, each ornament depicts the mouths and teeth of rats, mice and squirrels, animals that one might find hidden in the walls of a dilapidated house. Her title, Gnaw, suggests that these creatures might in fact be trying to pry themselves out of the walls and into human space. Polak convincingly replicates animal hooves, hide, and fur in her amulets. She explores the long tradition of infusing animal parts, from rabbit feet to eagle feathers, with ritual significance.

When attempting to locate contemporary metalwork within the discourse of contemporary art anSeth Papac artist like Cornelia Parker often comes to mind. She has steamrolled elegant silver tableware, crushed French horns and trombones, cut and reassembled gold wedding rings, and drawn into fine wire teaspoons and coins that measure the immeasurable. Actually, she hasn't done anything to these objects. Rather she has hired others, skilled laborers and craftsmen to execute her ideas. As I visited this exhibition I couldn't help but think of Cornelia Parker, an artist who reveres craft, but only as a means to its unmaking. Conversely, the work in to be: (determined) presents emerging artists who have honed their craft, honoring the history of their materials and the esoteric knowledge necessary to produce the range of objects on display. Where an artist like Cornelia Parker subverts the history of craft through grand gestures of destruction, the artists in to be: (determined) subvert the history of metalsmithing through their use of quotidian materials and their representation of seemingly inconsequential actions, all the while maintaining a dedication to their discipline.

 

PHOTOS: (top to bottom)
Seth Papac
Collected, altered and fabricated parure
brass, wood, rubber, silver, found objects

Laura Prieto-Velasco
Phona-form brooch 2
iron wire, carpet tacks, paint, tape, silver

Burcu Büyükünal
Redetermined destiny
mild steel, wood, inkjet print, foam

Laura Prieto-Velasco
Phona-form brooch 3
iron wire, carpet tacks, paint, silver

Seth Papac
Collected and fabricated parure
22K gold, silver, brass, paint, found objects

 

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Questioning Chi ha paura . . .?

Gijs Bakker

Designers on Jewellery: Twelve Years of Jewellery Production by Chi ha paura….?Hannes Wettstein
15 January – 16 May 2010

San Francisco Craft + Design Museum

Designers on Jewellery: Twelve Years of Jewellery Production by Chi ha paura…? opened last month at the San Francisco Craft + Design  Museum and is on display until May 16, 2010. The show marks the jewelry design brand’s twelfth year in the making. Founded by Gijs Bakker, jewelry and product designer and co-founder of Droog Design, together with Italian gallerist, Marijke Vallanzasca in 1996, the brand aims to elevate the status of jewelry beyond that of a subordinate decoration or simple accessory. Based in Amsterdam the project is currently directed by co-founder and member of the board, Gijs Bakker, and member of the board, Liesbeth den Besten.

The name Chi ha paura…? translates in Italian to ‘Who’s afraid of….?’ and implicitly poses the question, ‘Who’s afraid of contemporary jewelry?’ Inviting designers and jewelers to wrestle with this question and many others, Gijs Bakker and associates work toward smart jewelry that can be made accessible to the public through production. About choosing the work Bakker says, ‘We look for interesting concepts, unusual choices of materials or functional aspects that are cast in a different light. Designs like this have to have a story, some kind of political or cultural significance or a dash of humor.’  The brand boasts 74 pieces that are currently in production and available through the Chi ha paura…? website at www.chihapaura.com.

Esther KnobelOrganized in four parts the show mirrors the four collections which comprise the Chi ha paura…? jewelry line. The core collection on view was originally launched in April of 1997 and is comprised of 22 pieces including such iconic works as the Circle in Circle bracelet designed by Gijs Bakker in 1967 and the Broken Lines ring designed by Emmy van Leersum in 1982. These early works are the exception and the majority of the core collection represents pieces specifically designed for the label by such highly respected members of the jewelry and design fields as Marc Newsom, Ron Arad, Otto Kunzli, and Ruudt Peters.

Following the initial 22 pieces, the label took on a more specific project structure, issuing ‘assignments’ which jewelry and industrial designers were invited to answer in the form of submissions. These assignments, entitled Sense of Wonder, (2002), What’s Luxury (2005), and Rituals (2007) are displayed separately within the museum, each one functioning as a small exhibition within the larger whole, having its own unique display tactic and accompanied by its own explanatory text. Sense of Wonder illustrates works that within the concept expressed or the technologies employed are capable of creating a sense of wonder among viewers and wearers. What’s Luxury asks makers and viewers to think about the meaning of luxury in today’s society. The most current assignment, Rituals, questions the role of tradition within the modern climate and makes room for the possibilities of new rituals.

The nature of this ongoing project dictates that the collection grow with each issued project, meaning that while new, fresh ideas are added, the originals remain as a foundation. It is clear that many of the earlier Marc Monopieces do provide a strong foundation, adding such prestige that only work that has stood the test of time can offer. Gijs Bakker’s Little Finger (1967) and Rolf Sachs’s Strip (1995) are compelling examples of the clever restraint, which has become a benchmark for Dutch jewelry. Design however, is similar to fashion and operates to some extent in cycles. These cycles run their course, making room for the new and pushing out the old. While certain ‘timeless’ pieces retain their luster, some designs can appear stale and out-dated among newer innovations. While this show contains many iconic pieces, bringing to the viewers attention the contribution this label has brought to the field of contemporary art jewelry, others works like Esther Knobel’s Rose (1997) and Hannes Wettstein’s Triller (1997) appear today as irrelevant and awkward.

Despite this criticism, I find the breadth of the project to be a strength. I saw no reason however, for the display of each collection to be re-executed, functioning as a re-presentation of exhibitions that have passed. Frozen in these original displays, the effect was that of a dated flashback, making it difficult to clearly view the work. I found the polyurethane hands, made for the launching of the label at the Salone del Mobile in Milan (1997), distracting. The men’s shirts laid out on a round table seemed thrown together, sloppy and a bit gendered. The stands displaying What’s Luxury looked of poor print quality and aside from transportability, the decision to mount then on what looked like musical instrument stands was perplexing. The large billboard like display of the latest issued assignment, Rituals, was a noble attempt at the very difficult task of displaying jewelry in a way that communicates its relation to the body but in execution felt contrived and some-what like an advertisement.

Marti GuixeHow effective has the label been at its goal of creating conceptually rigorous pieces that serve to elevate jewelry as an intelligent means of design on par the with rest of the design world? Some evidence of the lines acceptance into the design world may be gathered from the designers themselves. Interestingly, when visiting Marc Newsome’s website I found no mention of Chi ha paura…?, though it includes mentions of clothing design for G-star and his own line of watches. On the other hand artists such as Tjep, who’s Bling Bling won a Dutch Design Award in the category of fashion design in 2004, have fully incorporated their pieces for Chi ha paura…? into their website.

Many of the collections pieces exemplify the conceptually rigorous mission of Chi ha paura…?. Frederic Braham’s Bonbons tres bons (2007) appear candy-coated and succinctly touch on complicated issues of a modern way of life mediated by manufactured medicine. Other pieces fell short of such careful conceptual investigation. Marti Guixe’s Gold Key $4 (2002) felt a little like a one-liner. Marc Monzo’s Diamond (2005), an enlarged diamond ring made as a brooch seemed common and predictable and Ron Arad’s Steps (1994) brooch is simply a miniature version of a chair he had already designed, creating something of a souvenir of his work more than a new and thought provoking piece. With that said, as a jewelry enthusiast and maker, Chi ha paura…? is an exciting project, shining a much needed spotlight on the field of contemporary art jewelry.


1. Designers on Jewellery: Twelve Years of Jewellery Production by Chi ha paura . . .? Melbourne & Stuttgart: National Design Centre & Arnoldsche Art Publishers, 2008, p.15.

Ron AradPHOTOS (top to bottom)

Gijs Bakker
Little finger ring (CHP15)
designed 1967, remade 1989
silver 925 or gold 585
16 x 36 mm

Hannes Wettstein
Triller ring (CHP07)
1997
silver 925
9 x 26 x 34 mm

Esther Knobel
Rose brooch (CHP12)
1997
silver 925, dried rose
28 x 17 x 90 mm

Frederic BrahamsMarc Monzo
Diamond brooch (P14)
2005
silver 925
83 x 70 mm

Marti Guixe
Gold key $4 (LE04)
2002
gold-plated silver
12 x 20 x 20 mm (key)

Ron Arad
Steps earring and brooch (LE01)
1994
silver 925
14 x 14 x 120 mm

Frederic Braham
Bonbons tres bons brooch (P19)
2007
blue and red powder coated metal
22 x 20 x 18 mm

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Exhibition Review: Finnish Jewellery 1600-2009, DesignMuseo, Helsinki

It’s clear from the title of this exhibition that it has large ambitions, stretching from the Renaissance to the present day. As the introductory wall text puts it, ‘Over the centuries, Finnish craftsmen were able to learn their trade and practice it in neighbouring countries. Innovations and impulses were first received from the west, and later from the east. After the Second World War, Finnish jewellery design discovered its own style, which has become recognized around the world.’

The Design Museum in Helsinki is an old building, and the upstairs galleries where this exhibition is located haven't been transformed into a typical white cube gallery space. It is a somewhat odd venue for jewelry, which is generally small and domestic in scale – at least, this is true from 1600 to around 1950, when the contemporary jewelry movement begins and the rules change. Still, the exhibition designers have done a good job, using large-scale photographs of models wearing the jewelry (from the 1960s) and a series of mannequins wearing clothes/jewelry in the foyer, which provide useful context. Inside the galleries that lead off the central foyer space, jewelry is displayed in large vitrines which glow in the darkness.

Design Museum, Helsinki

Interestingly, the exhibition doesn't begin straightforwardly with the oldest jewelry, but with two galleries dedicated to period reconstructions. The gallery on the right deals with Otto Roland Mellin and what is termed the 'archaeological style'. As the wall text explains, ‘Mellin's collection reflects the admiration of Antiquity that was characteristic of the late 19th century. Originally expressed in Mediterranean jewellery as copies of items from Greek and Etruscan hoards and treasures, the style gained regional features as it spread northward through Europe. The European archaeological style was transformed in Denmark, Norway and Sweden into the Ancient Nordic Style. Otto Roland Mellin adopted the models for his pieces from Denmark.’

 Otto Roland MellinSo this is historical reconstruction, but something more than faking old treasures, because presumably the jewelry was treasured as important contemporary objects and worn to make contemporary political and cultural statements. We are talking about the 1870s-1890s here, so how did this movement fit into prevailing cultural forms of the time – the National Romantic style, for example, that localized Art Nouveau? The jewelry itself is strange. Made of precious materials such as gold, pearls and diamonds, it is ornate, overworked and kind of primitive at the same time – a fancy Victorian version of ancient objects. Mellin’s jewelry is joined in these cases by a number of other jewellers working in the nineteenth century, demonstrating that the movement that Mellin best represents remained alive for a long period – from the 1840s to the 1890s.

This gallery also brings into play a series of older jewelry from the 1700s and 1800s. Because of the lack of decent information in the wall texts, however, you are left to work out yourself (from label dates) that the display has shifted from the archaeological style to jewelry that is actually old. Along with the jewels, there are a series of portraits in oil on canvas, depicting women wearing jewelry. These also have no introduction, although when you realize that archaeological jewelry – rather than jewelry in the archaeological style – is on display, you begin to understand why the paintings are here. (They demonstrate jewelry in action, the context of fashion and the wearing of jewelry in earlier times.)

The gallery on the left side of the foyer also deals with another instance of jewelry reconstruction. According to the wall text, ‘The Association of Kalevala Women, founded in 1935 in honour of the centennary of the publication of the Kalevala folk poetry epic, launched a project for a statue of Louhi, a leading female character of the Kalevala. Replicas of archaeological jewellery and ornaments began to be made for sale to fund the project. The artist Germund Paaer was hired to prepare the designs. At first, Paaer drew designs based on forty prehistoric brooches and ornaments in the collection of the National Museum of Finland, but the great demand for the pieces soon led to an addition of thirty-four items to the product range. Paaer later designed his own jewellery in the spirit of the archaeological material. The first models were made by the Hakkarainen fine metalworking firm and in silver by Pertti Helski of Lahti and K. Kaksonen jewellers of Helsinki. The Kalevala Koru (Kalevala jewellery) company was established in 1941.’

Jewelry From the Turku Museum CentreThis is a very nice contrast with the gallery showing the archaeological style across the foyer. This twentieth century revival is of a different order, and must have more of a relationship to modernism, not to mention very different resonances in terms of national identity projects. It seems to me that this is a very smart way to approach the past in this exhibition. Apart from the obvious logistical possibilities – it is easier to get nineteenth and twentieth century 'copies' than the old objects themselves – it really puts into play a series of questions and disruptions in terms of how the past is experienced and reproduced in the present. Through the introduction of these two galleries, we are made aware of how active this process is, how much any contact with the past is a kind of fabrication shaped by the present's particular concerns.

Weirdly, there are very few examples of Paaer's work, and instead we encounter a whole group of jewellers who haven't been introduced. Where are the earliest works produced by Paaer and his various manufacturers? What about the jewelry he designed later in the style of archaeological jewelry? What does this look like compared to the earlier copies? How do these other jewellers relate to the Kalevala Company or the Kalevala project? It certainly isn't the case that the objects and sketches on display here are not interesting, important or relevant, just that we aren't given the necessary information to understand why we are looking at it. I am assuming that this display represents a kind of Kalevala movement, to which people like Oskar Pihl (1890-1959) were important. So why not tell us this, instead of leaving the audience to assume?

Still, when you put aside the lack of information what you actually see is instructive. The jewelry made by the Kalevala Koru Company is quite different to that made in the nineteenth century by Mellin and colleagues. My guess is that it is closer to the originals, reproductions rather than interpretations, and this gives the jewelry a greater boldness and simplicity that seems well suited to the twentieth century. Which also raises the point as to whether this jewelry, and this Kalevala movement (if there is such a thing), had much of an impact on the Finnish modernism that become internationally renowned in the 1950s and 1960s.

Louis XVI pendant broochThe next gallery is called 'The heirs of St Petersburg', and the wall text notes that ‘From 1809 onwards, when Finland became a Grand Duchy of the Russian Empire, it became natural for large numbers of Finnish apprentices and journeymen to seek opportunities and sources of inspiration in St. Petersburg, the growing and dynamic capital of Russia. The imperial city, where the arts of goldsmithing and jewellery-making thrived, offered excellent career opportunities to Finnish craftsmen, who were in demand because of their careful work and reliability. After the Russian Revolution of 1917, hundreds of Finnish craftsmen returned to their homeland. One such returnee who had great influence on arts and crafts in Finland was Oskar Pihl, the nephew of master craftsman Albert Holmstrom of the Faberge jewellery firm. Pihl had been taught jewellery design by his circle and had been apprenticed to the family firm. In Finland he came to work for Alexander Tillander, who had also fled the revolution and had established a company in Helsinki. This meant that the tradition and high-standard of work at St. Petersburg continued well into the 20th century in Finland, although most of the world was unaware of it.’

What we get in this gallery is an introduction to the fine tradition of Finnish jewelry, in a series of objects made in Russia as well as in Helsinki. Pihl is the star of the show, and the jewelry is quite lovely, glittering with diamonds but also demonstrating a kind of artistic restraint.

In most cases you can understand what is going on here, as the wall text spells out the dynamic that links Russia and Finland. The display does a good job of introducing us to both contexts, to the kind of seamless transition between each country. But at the end of the gallery there is a display of six objects (five necklaces and a tiara) made by Raimo Nieminen, Torbjorn Tillander and Raija Kiviluoto. All of Nieminen's jewelry is from 2007 and 2008, while the other two are from 1961 and 1981. Why have these objects from the second half of the twentieth century been included? If this jewelry is intended to show us the ongoing relevance of the St. Petersburg tradition in Finnish jewelry – as a valid alternative to contemporary jewelry – then why not tell us that? It is interesting to see these works, because they show how conventional jewelry using precious materials can be inflected by contemporary jewelry and turned into something quite intriguing. It is a reminder that precious materials need not be boring and conventional, even though they so often are.

Bertal GardbergThe largest gallery in the exhibition has no introductory wall text at all, even though it is clearly the heart of the show. Instead, we are given biographies of the various jewellers whose work is on display. The birth (and sometimes death dates) of these jewellers indicate that this must be the Finnish modernist section of the exhibition. Again, without any explanation the very first displays are of jewelry from the early twentieth century, which appears to share some folk or primitive references with the Kalevala display in an earlier gallery. But if this is the intention, we are kept in the dark about it. (And how do the earlier movements relate to this central part of the show? Or, to ask that another way, where does Finnish modernism come from?)

It is really nice to see so much work in the same style together in one place. It allows you to develop a rich sense of what Finnish modernism was actually like as a movement, and to consider individual differences within it, the accents of personal style. It is fascinating how precious stones, or indeed non-precious stones, can inflect Finnish modernism in quite different ways, or how individuals can create a sense of complexity or an impression of the ornate that strains the limits of the movement, all the time using the same vocabulary of geometric units, unadorned surfaces, bold sculptural forms. And how interesting that this movement produced good work for such a long period of time, spanning the late 1940s until the late 1970s.

This looks effortless, but I would say a huge amount of critical and visual intelligence resides behind this display, both in terms of how individuals are represented (the selection of objects) and how the jewelry has been displayed (the rhythm of the exhibition, and where objects fit in the sequence). Everything is displayed against gently sloping boards of grey fabric, with some pieces sitting on small shelves, and others hanging like mobiles. It really suits the work, allowing us to get a sense of common qualities; yet the large scale photographs and the centrality or common recurrence of neckpieces doesn't allow us to forget that this is jewelry and meant to be worn.

Design MuseumThe exhibition finishes with two galleries of contemporary jewelry. On the right is a display from the collection of Helena and Lars Pahlman. The wall text notes that ‘Helena and Lars Pahlman began to collect art and jewellery in the 1970s. Their jewellery collection has now grown to more than 1000 items. For the Finnish Jewellery exhibition, they selected from their collection 100 pieces dating from the 1970s to the present day. Representing in their selection are designers from Finland, Scandinavia, the Baltic countries, and the rest of Europe, Israel, Australia and the United States. A distinct group consists of jewellery by Finnish visual artists and designers from outside the jewellery design sector.’

On the left is a selection of other contemporary jewelry, but there is nothing to tell us what this represents, or whether it is part of the Pahlman collection. (A quick count of objects suggests that it can't be.) Both of these galleries are very interesting and filled with excellent examples of contemporary jewelry, but to my mind it is not okay to ignore the huge differences between this work, and the Finnish modernism that precedes it – or indeed contemporary jewelry and jewelry from earlier periods. Why do the curators refuse to provide the same kind of analysis that accompanied earlier displays, and at a point where much of the audience will require information to make sense of what they are seeing? (We all understand precious materials and historical forms, but not all of us understand contemporary art and culture.)

I could have done with some guidance myself, to understand how this selection is presenting contemporary Finnish jewelry. Recurring materials and a certain aesthetic sensibility, a connection to nature, suggest that Finnish jewelry is operating in a very interesting tension with the rest of the international jewelry community. Obviously a shared framework is guiding production – after all, I recognize it as contemporary jewelry – but issues and influences specific to Finland are shaping production too. Given the surprising and rich cultural entanglements that the rest of the exhibition has served up, it would be good to find out if such stories continue to be factors in the evolution of contemporary Finnish jewelry.

But this absence of information is too often a feature of Finnish Jewellery 1600-2009. Ultimately this exhibition refuses its audience the opportunity to see clearly the way these objects constitute a local chapter in an international story, and considering the intelligence with which the show has been constructed, that would be a narrative worth hearing.

PHOTOS TOP TO BOTTOM

  1. Installation view, Finnish Jewellery 1600-2009, Design Museum, Helsinki
  2. Otto Roland Mellin, Bracelets, 1870-90, gold
  3. Maker unknown, Hair Jewelry, 1600-50, metal thread, pearls, Cathedral Museum, Turku
  4. Maker unknown, Brooch, 1700s, metal, rock crystal
  5. Maker unknown, Jewelled Comb, 1830-50, gold, horn, Turku Museum Centre
  6. Maker unknown, Earrings, 1860s, gold, Turku Museum Centre
  7. Maker unknown, Bracelet, 1860s, gold, Turku Museum Centre
  8. Albert Holmstrom, Pendant/brooch in Louis XVI style, platinum, diamonds, made in St Petersburg
  9. Bertel Gardberg, Necklace with Changeable Stones, 1968, gold, stone
  10. Tuija Hietanen, Necklace, 2007, glass pearls, nymo lacquer
  11. Installation view, Finnish Jewellery 1600-2009, Design Museum, Helsinki
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Back from the dead: ornament’s return

Lisa Walker

We are, it would seem, in an age of ornament. An exhibition called Decorative Resurgence, ‘A juried exhibition of contemporary jewelry and metalwork inspired by historic decoration and ornament’, took place in Glassboro, New Jersey, in April 2009 (supported by a grant from the Art Jewelry Forum), and the most recent issue of Metalsmith (v.29, n.3) turned its attention to the charms and critical possibilities of ornament in two different articles.

In the catalogue for Decorative Resurgence, Jennifer A. Zwilling argues that ornament’s return has come about because we have given up on a ‘teleological’ view of art history – the idea that history is a march towards some more perfect future that can only be reached by jettisoning the past. Ornament, the art that adorns art, is deeply indebted to the past. It is based in the artist’s knowledge of the styles of past cultures, which can be drawn on and transformed into terms appropriate to the present. Modernism turned ornament into a crime and chucked it overboard, but craft in part kept its connections with the past and now sits in an enviable position when it comes to ornament’s resurgence. Zwilling says that an important trend in contemporary jewellery is ‘the reexamination of ornament as a tool to convey concept and evoke emotion’, and she notes that this often means engaging with the past: ‘The Modernist aesthetic so thoroughly expunged ornament from our visual vocabulary in the mid Twentieth Century that the mere suggestion of decorative elements on an object can now evoke a sense of the distant past.’ She also makes a case as to why ornament is so prominent in jewellery. ‘By definition, jewelry objects are items worn as ornament of the body, a fact that allows jewelry makers and connoisseurs to have been more open to the concept even when it was rejected by much of the art/craft community.’

The curators/jurors of Decorative Resurgence, Jill Baker Gower and Jessica Calderwood, write that the work was selected because it ‘successfully re-contextualized the chosen historical decorative influence into thoughtful and contemporary art as well as illustrated research and knowledge of the decorative inspiration’. They also suggest that ornament is used by these jewellers in a number of different ways: ‘to add emotion, memory or sentiment; to create social commentary; to interpret nature; to acknowledge, commemorate or honor a lineage, history, or a historic process; to evoke nostalgia; to make gender or age associations; to create cultural connections; and to convey fragility or loss.’ No wonder ornament is having such a good run: it can do almost anything.

For Lena Vigna and Namita Gupta Wiggers writing in Metalsmith, the question is how contemporary jewellers are engaging with the trend towards ornament that has swept the industrial design world. As they write:

"A contemporary vocabulary is emerging in which the baroque, the rococo, the curvilinear and the unabashedly ornate features of historic jewelry are taking a new, redefined center stage. Artists are looking backwards to look forward, democratizing forms and patterns previously preserved for royalty through a range of new materials (from precious to industrial) and via such unexpected vehicles as t-shirts and installations."

Vigna and Wiggers go on to identify five ways that contemporary jewellers use ornament: fragmenting and abstracting historical forms, employing new technologies, creating new versions of ‘familiar’ jewels, neutralising markers of luxury, and examining the relationship between jewellery, the body and space.

There’s no doubt something interesting is going on with ornament, and these writers and curators are proposing intelligent and productive ways to understand ornament’s triumphant return. But I can’t help wondering about how complicit, how reactionary, this turn towards ornament might be. Are we being seduced by ornament’s charms, losing sight of its limitations? Vigna and Wiggers talk about contemporary jewellers democratising the signs of ornament that historically have been deeply connected to class, and shifting ornament away from its important role within colonial and imperial histories to something personal. As they put it, the jewellery ‘becomes about class and access – not culture and race – and is ironically liberated in this redefinition.’ The past becomes flattened, a rich source of possibilities to be mined, but as they note, 'Explicit in such ahistorical conversations is the affirmation of a formal relationship with a historical past; implicit is a consideration of social and cultural meanings.' The italics are mine, and it worries me that thinking about social and cultural meanings becomes implicit – i.e. invisible. Ornament in contemporary jewellery, as in contemporary design, starts to seem suspiciously toothless and indulgent. Vigna and Wiggers quote Julie Lasky who wrote in I.D. magazine’s ornament issue, ‘An exuberant tangle of styles, colors, and textures no longer suggests chaos or eccentricity but individuality – the kind of plenitude that could match taste or need on demand.’ It is, in other words, all very easy and not at all troubling – decorative in the very worst sense. (Having said that, I acknowledge that Vigna has written a very nuanced account of contemporary jewellery’s ornamental turn in relation to the past in her essay ‘Heirlooms: navigating the personal in contemporary jewelry’, published on the Art Jewelry Forum website.)

Lisa Walker
Lisa Walker
Necklace
2006
cardboard, ink, plastic, ceramic, wool, fabric, thread, shell, lacquer, glue
440 mm long (approximately)

In Lisa Walker’s recent book Unwearable, Paul Derrez from Galerie Ra in Amsterdam wrote that contemporary jewellery is currently shaped by ‘A zeitgeist in which the focus is on complex beauty: sculptures and structures that are refined, glamorous and rich-looking – magical and imposing in the way historical jewellery can be.’ His point is that Walker’s work is too raw and confrontational to function well in such a historical moment. I’m not suggesting that jewellers should have to function as Walker does, in either process or materials, but I think there is something to be said for being raw and confrontational rather than smooth and easy. Maybe we should take a bit more time to sort out the ornamented and tough jewellery from the work that looks great in the current zeitgeist, but which won’t be capable of holding our attention when we decide beauty might just be skin deep after all.

emiko oye
emiko oye
The Duchess neckpiece
2008
From My First Royal Jewels Jewellery Collection
used & new LEGO®, rubber cording
10.5” L closed x 9.75” W x 2.5” D
 

emiko oye
emiko oye
The Queen Margherita
2007
From My First Royal Jewels Jewellery Collection
(Neckpiece converts into 3 bracelets, 2 neckpieces, one brooch)
used & new LEGO, coated copper wire, rubber cording, sterling silver, steel pin back
34" L open, 19.75" closed x 5/8-8.5" W x 0.5-1.75" D

Then again, I am hearted and challenged by a number of jewellers who are positioned right in the centre of ornament’s return. Take emiko oye, for example. Her jewels constructed from Lego building blocks are entirely satisfying. As Vigna and Wiggers note, oye’s My First Royal Jewels Jewellery Collection comes ‘complete with instructions on how to deconstruct a necklace into several separate wearable parts (much like a parure)’. The connections to jewellery history and tradition are tight, convincing, and the jewels themselves are lavish and ornamental. Yet the fact this is Lego, the fact that, to quote Vigna and Wiggers, ‘The construction and reconstruction of the jewelry mimics the active play of the Lego blocks, while simultaneously linking artist and wearer through process and material’, means oye’s work doesn’t allow social and cultural meanings to get submerged. Her references to ornament are critically deployed. She makes connection to historical ornament and then modifies these references through her materials, and the way in which play opens up the possibilities of process and therefore asks questions about what jewellery is, the role of the wearer, and the maker, the importance of process as opposed to object.

David Bielander
David Bielander
Dung Beetle Brooch
2007
steel tea spoon
45 x 35 x 20 mm

David Bielander
David Bielander
Raspberries Necklace
2005
Scoubidou (plastic tube), silver
440 mm long

I also find a very satisfactory use of ornament in the work of David Bielander. His use of nature, one of the most common sources of ornament, is complicated by a game of transformation that takes place in the work. The ornamental possibilities of a beetle, or raspberries, are exploited in his jewellery, but this enjoyment of subject matter is only the first level of meaning. Once we recognise the subject, we are confronted with the particular act of transformation that makes the piece, one thing becoming another (a spoon becomes a beetle; woven plastic tube becomes raspberries). And then finally we are able to consider the jewel as something to be worn, to ornament the body. Bielander purposefully locates himself in an ambivalent position in relation to jewellery history, somewhere between the precious materials and conventions of luxury jewellery, and the innovation and originality of contemporary jewellery. Ornament is crucial to Bielander’s work, but again it is put to work in a very specific way, and undercut by choices in materials and process. Again, social and cultural meanings are positioned right up front. Ornament is something strange, awkward, active, somewhat more than just asserting a decontextualised relationship with the past.

 

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Heirlooms: Navigating the Personal in Comtemporary Jewelry

Melanie Bilenker

Heirlooms are, by definition, are objects, property or cultivars that are passed from one generation to the next. This gives us a perfunctory understanding of what an heirloom is—it does not, however, convey the emotional potential of certain objects, places, or ideas (stories, techniques, or perhaps even, traditions) that could all be heirlooms in one sense or another. One of the difficulties in talking about heirlooms is that they are often associated with emotion and memory—qualities that change with time and as the “property” is passed along and that are often derided as sentimental or nostalgic. This complex connection to the emotional, personal or sentimental can also be an important element of jewelry. When the two meet—heirloom as a concept and jewelry—the results are intensely engaging.

The recent work of contemporary art jewelers such as Brigitte Adolph, Melanie Bilenker, Lola Brooks, Gesine Hackenberg, Anna Lorich, Mary Pearse, Monika Strasser and Renee Zettle-Sterling underscores the link, inherited or not, between past and present and establishes a framework for investigating the role of jewelry as a conveyor of personal, social and cultural meaning.** This essay identifies only a few of the contemporary art jewelers who are engaging with the past, their past. Rather than offer a definitive answer as to why there is a trend to make jewelry that explores the world in this way, I attempt to draw attention to some of those making significant work in this direction and encourage further contemplation of both the artists themselves and the larger idea as a whole.

My historical reference points are perhaps oxymoronic; the death obsessed and sentimental Victorians and the optimistic creative vigor and largesse of 20th century costume jewels.”
-Lola Brooks, 2008

As Lola Brooks’ quote underscores, the Victorian era (1837-1901) set a tone for imbuing objects with personal meaning that remains attractive today. Many types of jewelry were fashionable but those that seem to most exemplify the period in a historical capacity are those that embody a certain type of romanticism—namely, hair and mourning jewelry, inscribed engagement rings and jewelry made with jet (the black gemstone that was popular for its beauty and worn for fashion as well as mourning).

With an overabundance of so-called sentimental icons such as vintage ivory roses, champagne-cut diamonds and stainless steel bows in her latest brooches and neckpieces, Brooks challenges the idea that certain “signifiers” can no longer hold any real meaning and reworks the vocabulary to offer pieces that are a celebration of material and content, no longer “saccharine clichés of beauty, sentiment, perfection and the feminine.”

Melanie Bilenker draws on the intimacy evoked with hair jewelry by memorializing her personal private moments—“snapshot” scenes of daily life such as cooking at a stove, relaxing in a bath or portraits of hands and feet—out of her own hair.

Mary Pearse’s recent brooches of plastic, steel, silver and precious stones have primarily been compositions in white—ruminations on the idea of loss and odes to Victorian jewelry that marked the passage of time and served as “memorials” to loved ones.

While not specifically addressing personal family connections, Brooks, Bilenker and Pearse engage with subject matter that is linked to the idea of things personal—part of this extends from the fact that they create jewelry meant to be kept close, worn on the body, yet this is not the only connection. They turn intangible memories, bonds and emotions into tangible objects—further linking an intimate object with intimate ideas.

Simultaneously, jewelers such as Brigitte Adolph and Anna Lorich are tackling the potentially raw and sticky subject matter of their families. Adolph and Lorich refer specifically to their families as inspiration but they also represent a larger segment of contemporary practice that is reinvigorating (perhaps a better term is re-appreciating) historical textile techniques within jewelry, interior design and sculpture and installation. Their use of such techniques and methods metaphorically links them to their bloodline family but also connects them to so many others who recognize the value of such practices and the way they can immediately both reference (perhaps nostalgically or sentimentally) the past and establish connections between people.

Long interested in antique lace and embroidery, Brigitte Adolph transforms family heirlooms of lace and stitching into gold and silver “lace” jewels. Visually deceptive, her earrings and necklaces look like fragments of lace in thread but are of silver and white and yellow gold—they are brand new objects that keep her connected to her past, that evoke personal memories of her home and that offer the same personal “potential” to many a wearer or viewer. Anna Lorich uses family images and objects as source material for intensely embroidered rings, sweetly stitched portrait brooches and narrative drawings. She bluntly states that her jewelry is about feelings and that she plays with “notions of a family narrative, tradition, generation and ancestry.”

Considering the jewelry of Adolph and Lorich also takes us quickly to ideas of the domestic—the connection to textile handcraft in their work as well as the intimacy evoked suggests private contemplations in domestic spaces. The “domestic” conversation is a multilayered one that seems to be constantly in flux—tied to ideas about certain kinds of objects, conceptions of gender and notions of comfort, the decorative, the sentimental and the familiar. Interested in how “both the home and the objects in it retain enormous memorial weight,” Renee Zettle-Sterling creates brooches of vintage fabrics, beading and silver for her Objects of Sentiment series. She replaces gemstones with materials of different value—historical, cultural and personal. Soft and sweet, her pieces are simultaneously familiar and unfamiliar—with stitching and little beads and things we would like to keep close but reconstructed in a way that makes them seem a little alien.

Monika Strasser’s series of Schattenbroschen (Shadow-Brooches) are made of the handles of cutlery (inherited from her family) and she presents them in, in her own words, “nostalgic looking baroque cases” that contain stitched shadows. While they formally approach connections to the sentimental in a very different way than Lorich or Adolph, they are steeped in family memory—as Strasser states, “You can’t run away from your family history, just as you can’t shake off your shadow either.”

And, Gesine Hackenberg examines the meaning of objects by creating necklaces with beads of porcelain cut from decorative dinner plates. The preciousness of Hackenberg’s jewelry is tied not only to the fragile material of the dinnerware beads but also to their ability to embody emotional as well as material value—as Hackenberg herself suggests, “Objects of use often become intimately precious and indispensable to us, as it happens sometimes to a piece of jewellery [sic] that we wear day in, day out.”

Rather than seeing sentiment or nostalgia as content to be avoided, these jewelers represent an embrace of the past and a willingness to challenge and explore meaning complicated by the idea of personal history and emotion. They are a few of those extending their investigations of jewelry in this decoration—a pursuit full of potential. Even though this contemporary jewelry is echoing, reconfiguring or recontextualizing history, it does not ring false or forced—the element of the human condition that gives this work so rich a framework is a connection that links the intimate to the public, the personal to the cultural.

**Often, these endeavors include, sometimes more implicitly than explicitly, a re-consideration of ornament both in form and content. This exploration of decorative elements as linked to society and culture is happening across media. Even within contemporary art jewelry, there are multiple paths of investigation concerning history and ornament. Those mentioned in this article implicitly address ornament while others, such as Anya Kivarkis, Uli Rapp, Constanze Schreiber and Emiko Oye, represent those explicitly exploring the links between historical forms of jewelry, luxury, social status and wealth. For more information on this particular avenue of investigation, see the forthcoming Metalsmith article “Mining History: Ornamentalism Revisited,” that I co-authored with Namita Gupta Wiggers.

Lena Vigna, currently Curator of Exhibitions at the Miami University Art Museum, Oxford, Ohio, is drawn to adornment in all of its forms. Recent areas of exploration include political garments and accessories, jewelry that reconsiders the past in the present, contemporary chandeliers, notions of utopia, extreme yet wearable garments and lace. Lena was awarded a 2006 Craft Research Fund Project Grant from the Center for Craft, Creativity, and Design, University of North Carolina, for scholarship related to the exhibition and upcoming publication Laced with History (curated while she was Curator of Exhibitions/Department Head at the John Michael Kohler Arts Center, Sheboygan, WI, and featuring works by artists who use or reference lace in their work as well as objects by historical and contemporary lace makers.)

Images

Melanie Bilenker, Saturday (brooch), 2008, Gold, ebony, resin, pigment and hair, 2 1/8 x 1 ½ x 3/8 in., Courtesy, Sienna Gallery

Gesine Hackenberg, Kitchen Necklace, Makkum Vogel plate and polyamide thread, Courtesy, Sienna Gallery

Lola Brooks, Brooch, 18kt gold, stainless steel, vintage ivory roses and rose-cut champagne diamonds, 4 ½ x 4 ½ x 1 ½ in., Courtesy, Sienna Gallery

 

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Diary of a Jewellery Colonial Abroad

Damian Skinner

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.

Beyond the ObviousIn 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.

Peter HoogeboomSimilarly, 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

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