Like many of you, I work a lot. I have many interests I indulge as professional and passionate pursuits.
By day, I work as an Estate Buyer, traveling the country meeting with customers wishing to divest of personal property. At most events, I purchase scrappy gold and silver jewelry, often broken or otherwise mangled; diamonds; Sterling silver flatware sets unwanted by the next generation; and countless other objects of value. My specialty within the larger company is designer handbags,
which we resell to a market hungry to participate in the luxury lifestyle, a current cultural phenomenon.
In my off hours, I love to cook. I love to garden. I even build things, like the backyard patio I installed earlier this summer. I anticipate the family meals we’ll share in the coming years will more than justify the hip pain I earned while executing the project! (Just kidding. No guilt here, only joy.) What mother doesn’t express her love through building a comfortable nest where she can feed her chicks? It is my greatest pleasure to use my creativity in service of my brood.
At the bottom of the list, but perhaps closest to my heart, is making jewelry. I am fortunate to work with craft galleries, museum stores, and individual customers who appreciate my precious metal designs and continue to request them. I cannot live without creating objects, and it is for these customers I commit to the studio.
To prepare myself for the best use of studio time, there are a few rituals I perform to get into the Zone. First, like Mr. Rogers, I change from outside clothes to play clothes. Typically, this means a pair of jeans I don’t mind getting dirty (for those times I find myself crawling on the floor to locate a dropped gemstone- oops!),
and an old t-shirt. It’s often cold in my studio, so I keep a few flannel or sweater layers hanging just inside the door in case I need them.
I enter the space, close the door behind me, and take a deep breath. I need this moment to center myself and garner the patience I need for a successful studio session. I’m a natural designer, but the art of metal smithing never came easily to me. Holding a torch and tweezers puts me at a remove from what I’m making; it was difficult to learn to “back up” and use my tools as extensions of my hands. Over the years, I have trained myself to hold the torch in my left hand (I’m a “righty”) so my right hand remains available for manipulating the metal pieces in front of me. This approach serves me well, but I still need a moment to adjust mentally.
Then I survey my surroundings, focused on seeing what needs to be done. Is there a new order waiting for which I need to order materials? Gotta make a list. Am I in the middle of making a piece that needs to be picked up and completed? I’ll consult my pattern book to see what’s next. Is this the rare day when I get to design something new? Gimme my sketchbook! Some days, I have packages that arrived since I was last able to visit the studio. They need to be opened, and the materials sorted. I slice open the boxes and remove the contents, placing each item- a coil of silver wire, a bag of tiny diamonds- in its assigned place. I break down the boxes and packaging, putting them in the recycle bin, unless I can reuse them for shipping right away. I always spend a moment getting familiar with my opportunities before grouping actions into batches- all the better for efficiency- and prioritizing where to begin. Many jewelers joke that we are compulsive to the nth degree. In retrospect, I suppose I am. I embrace my compulsiveness here. It’s the only way I’d accomplish anything!!
My process of entering my workspace, assessing my priorities, -even dressing the part! - are necessary steps I take to focus intelligently on the work ahead. Jewelry artists create tiny sculptures that require strength and integrity to be worn. I like to think I’m providing my own version of those qualities when I enter the studio to make them.
-xo
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