The real price of a high metals market
Originally Published 5-1-2011
Yesterday, I decided to scrap some metal. Spot prices have been rising every day and the timing was good for my personal economics. My sister and I traveled in to Jewelers Row and I decided my instincts would guide me on where to go. Once I had chosen, I looked around the dusty, small shop. It had been a busy day and there were piles of old silver holloware and gold everywhere. A bench jeweler was retipping some prongs, and the owner of the shop -- Joseph -- greeted me and my sister as we came in. I could see by his clear blue eyes and open face that he was an honest man. This was the place.
We went about the business of weighing and calculating, and my sister and I had already done the hard work of sorting clean scrap from sweeps, we had graded all of the gold parts and unwanted pieces in advance, and pre-weighed everything to get a rough idea of our total. Joseph noted and calculated, and told us how unusual it was to have knowledgeable customers in the shop and that he appreciated what we had done for him after such a busy day. My sister told him I was a jeweler, and then we began to talk shop. I admired some of the older pieces in the case, including a set of beautiful chased and repoussed holloware and old hand hammered silver serve ware. I said a high metals market was a good-bad thing, because all of this beautiful work would be lost. How sad it was to see the work of my metalsmith brothers destined for the crucible. How horrible it was to know that the history and hard work of my craft would be melted down and converted to a number on some investors spreadsheet somewhere, and that unknown goldsmith's training, vision and labor meant nothing more than a pile of money in this greedy world.
Joseph stopped his calculations. He asked me if I wanted to see something spectacular and told the bench jeweler to lock the door. He went into the back, and brought out a huge, solid fine silver vessel. The surface was intricately chased and completely covered with intertwined floral decoration, borders and figures. I believe it was southeast asian, probably Thai, judging by the clothing on the figures. The entire vessel had been raised and chased by hand. It was very heavy and old, and there were still remnants of black pitch on the inside. I turned it over and over in my hands and felt the connection with its maker. Joseph told me he had a buyer for it -- from a museum. I thanked him and told him how happy I was for that as we smiled at each other.
We finished our transaction and totaled out, chatting again about tools and we joked a little about the nice dinner my sister and I would have that night. I shook Joseph's hand and thanked him for sharing that work with me, and for saving it from an undeserved fate in the flame. As our eyes met, I knew I had found a kindred soul, and that I would be in Joseph's shop again.
As I type this, there is a transferred, black floral impression from pitch and polish on the heel of my right hand. It is a reminder of the work I touched yesterday and the connection I made with the history of my craft. No matter how high the price of our raw materials go, investment greed and the frenzy of hoarding metal can never take that from us. We make for the joy of making, not for the lust of taking.
Today's tip: I keep several labeled covered plastic containers in my bench pan. As I generate scrap, I drop it in the proper container so I can take advantage of a good spot price and be ready to take my scrap in quickly.
Conferences, connections and a different world
Originally Published 4-2-2011
A gentle nudge is usually all it takes to get me rolling. Other times it takes a concerted kick in my posterior to force me to figure out where to go next. Especially when I feel lost.=
I just got back from the 2011 Colorado Metalsmithing Association Conference in Salida, Co. It was totally incredible, and the lineup was just fantastic. I saw and held gorgeous works by Michael Zobel, Michael Good, and many other amazing metals artists. I am inspired to work -- if I can ever get back to my bench. But, this year was different for me. Not only because I am different. Everything else is different too, and I am lost in a land of confusion. I went to the conference with a different set of objectives. Many of the same personalities and characters were there, and I caught up with them and made my usual contacts and connections, but because the world of print publishing is changing dramatically, this year I was there for a different reason. My assignment was to capture footage for a new digital product, so I interviewed 6 metals masters, tool designers and lapidary artists in typical "man on the street" TV journalist style. It was surreal to say the least.
I am new to this world of the digital video camera. At this moment, I have appeared in three 2-hour technique DVDs, but I still feel uneasy about talking on camera, because unlike teaching a class, there is no connection to anything real. There is no interaction or exchange.
It is disconcerting. I love print. I love books. I love learning the old way -- from information passed with hands -- you know, master to apprentice and demonstration and practice. I am uneasy about having the knowledge and tradition of my craft held in an elusive and mysterious format like a digital file that lives in cyberspace. It feels nebulous and unreal, not solid -- like the tools, metal and stone I can hold in my hands as I work, or observe my mentor using as I am shown something.
Lately, I am reminded of my art history class, where the Italian Renaissance clicked away, slide after slide after slide, in a scattershot of images with no sense of scale, form or context. I try to imagine what the world will be like when all information is digital. Will life be reduced to an endless vicarious peep show as we watch other people "do" things in cyberspace without ever touching a tool or piece of metal ourselves? Will we consume information as a substitute for doing? How can we analyze the information of a visual art form, when we cannot observe it in 3D reality? And, what will we really experience if everything is a nugget of information to be observed on a computer monitor or slid sideways on a touch screen?
I often wonder about these things. Is digital information real? Is digital documentation, record keeping and history real -- if it can be constantly edited, accessed, tweaked and altered? Or are we really all just bits of matter floating through time and space where the only real is at this very moment and no more?
Micro-torch fired enamels on copper?
Nothing is safe from my evil experiments!
These are the preliminary tests for hard clear Thompson's enamel on 26g copper; some roll printed. I used Garnier liquid hairspray as a flux.
Originally Published 4-2-2011
I was lucky yesterday. I had an open space to play for a while in the studio without a crushing deadline, so I decided to experiment with some torch fired enamels, using a new torch system I recently reviewed for Lapidary Journal Jewelry Artist. I was blown away by the heat that little torch -- The Mini Flam -- could throw out after I soldered with it for a while, and I have a project due in a few issues that has to feature enamel in some way. So, in my normal hyper-efficient approach to life, I figured why not try the new torch on the enamel tests I have to create anyway before I can start the project? Makes sense to me.
Normally, I torch fire using a city gas and oxygen fuel combo, which is about as hot as it gets -- like surface of planet Venus hot. Plus, city gas is clean, which matters with enamel. So, I wasn't sure what to expect from the propane/butane fuel mix of the Mini Flam. Well, so far, so good. I got four nice little hemispheres, and the enamel behaved somewhat predictably. I love the way copper oxides leach into the glass during regular torch firing with city gas, so I was happy to see little tinges of green and chocolate develop as it cooled, after using the micro torch. It got the metal very hot, very fast -- a great thing with torch firing, because the sooner the glass gets past the orange peel stage, the better. And, I was able to hold the copper at angry orange for a minute or two, which is essential to melt and spread the enamel grains and give the richest color.
I am going to try the bench torch version of the Mini Flam torch now, to see what the oxygen boost and tiny torch tip will do. And some silver, too. And thicker metal and larger forms. This is kind of exciting, because the owner of the company told me he hadn't heard of anyone trying to use it with enamels before. I love being a pioneer. As I get some more samples, I'll post them here, so stay tuned!
Todays tip: When you are sifting enamel onto a piece, keep at least 4 inches between the work and the mesh sifter. That will allow the grains of enamel to spread apart as they fall on to the piece. You will get a much more even surface that way.
On Authenticity
Originally Published 3-30-2011
An authentic inner value system is strong and inviolate. It makes navigation easy. There are certain things I will not compromise on, ever. Knowing that, and "walking the walk" gives me integrity. I can be trusted. To me, no means no and I won't waver. Sometimes, this confuses people and sometimes it ticks them off. Sorry.
I look at it this way: As a teacher, artist, mother and friend, people are relying on me to be honest, behave responsibly and predictably. I've worked very hard at a life built on genuine exchanges and mutual respect. My sister tells me I am "brutally honest." I have to be, because there is no other way for me. It is less stressful to be decisive at the outset than it is to mire down in murky maybe. Easy, no, but it is efficient and costs much less energy in the long run.
Relationships are sometimes difficult. When I make a friend, I hope it is for life. Sure, there are people who come and go, but many are still with me. I can tell the difference between those who are with me because of what I can do for them, and those who are with me for me. I have equal respect for both types, but once I see the truth, I do not invest in the first group. For the most part, I am unbelievably tolerant and open. It really, really takes a concentrated effort to get on my shit list, but once you are there, it is a lifetime achievement award.
One of my former bosses -- Zach Stalberg, the no-nonsense Executive Editor of the Philadelphia Daily News, used to end every email or memo to the newsroom employees with "This is No Bullshit." I loved that, and wanted to believe it was true. I respected Zack, because you knew where you stood with him. I wish more people were like that.
What does all this have to do with making jewelry, you ask? That's easy. Temet nosce, know thyself. Once you have the strength to listen -- really listen -- to your own inviolate inner voice, you will know what kind of work to make. Not what everyone else is making, not what you've seen already, not what happens to be a hot seller at this moment -- you will know what kind of work you are supposed to make and what is authentic for you -- because you'll know while you are doing it if it is "right." Trust that and don't waver.
Today's tip: I take lots of notes in workshops and at conferences. Once I get home, I force myself to put all of those notes and sketches into plastic sleeves in a three-ring binder. I re-read everything and make any clarifications while the workshop is fresh in my mind. Then, I stay organized, and the binder helps me find information I know I have but can't quite remember in the heat of the moment.
There’s always room for vise
Make it work!
It’s a challenge to fly across the country, hope your tools and materials arrive when and where they are supposed to, survive jet lag, and be spot-on in a convention center situation far away from home. Adaptability is everything.
Originally Published 3-23-2011
Traveling to teach is not without drama.
Recently, my pal and I met in her town and road-tripped to another state
(that's a BIG state, not a little one) to tag team teach at Bead Fest Santa Fe. Now, you have to understand: teaching metals classes isn't easy. You have to move tool steel, kits, torches and tanks for a dozen or more students per class. And, you want to bring extra stuff for your students to try and possibly buy. And, you have to rely on a sequence of events falling into place in a particular timeframe so everybody's needs are met.
Don't get me wrong -- teaching is very rewarding. It's just the logistics that aren't. And, something always goes wrong. No matter how well you planned. It's just a part of the thrill.
Like the vise. It's heavy. You can't fly with it, but you need it. Do you buy one when you get there and pray somebody in the class buys it? Do you ship yours? Do you borrow one and pray a student does not destroy it? Or, do you order one with your tool shipment and hope it gets to the hotel in time? And then, how do you get the thing 5 blocks over to the Convention Center, along with the 300 pounds of kits and tools for your classes? Oh, and stubbing that vise with your big toe in the middle of the night in the hotel room is really fun too.
We love teaching at away games. Really. But, when I said vise, I meant vice. Like cold adult beverages and good old fattening food with friends. And sweets after dinner every night. Because, when you meet up with fellow teachers you haven't seen for a while, survive 4 days of teaching and assistant teaching in a strange town -- without the shop equipment you are used to having nearby to teach well, vice is what you really need to get through it all. That, a sense of humor, and a sense of adventure will help you remember why teaching is fun. But, you'll still need to leave room in the shipping box for the vise to go home once you wake up from the vice part of the trip the next morning.
Today's tip: I saved my son's toddler socks to cover my hammer heads when I travel. The little socks are the perfect size to protect the textured faces of my student hammers, and they remind me of my little guy when I am far from home.