Skinny Dipping

The deed is done ... studio walls have been filled, sanded and painted; floors cleaned; work hung; symposium presentation delivered ... and breathe!

Thick Skinned (detail) - found crucifix, plastic, felt, aluminium, thread
© Vanda Campbell 2013

Thick Skinned (detail) 
© Vanda Campbell 2013

Left Behind (detail) - found earring (broken), plastic, felt, thread
© Vanda Campbell 2013

Off The Cuff

I have made a number of pieces (Jilted, Thick Skinned) exploring the relationship between skin and wearable object.  To balance this, it's time to investigate the fabric layer, the clothing, which usually lies between the object, specifically jewellery, and the skin (body) on which it's worn.

As an integral part of who we are and what we do clothing has assumed many roles, including the ability to contain and carry through the addition of pockets, openings and fixings. The interplay of function and form, and the constant movement of, and interaction with, the fabric is at the centre of all of this is. Often unknowingly, people 'play' with their clothing, and in the process, momentarily redefine its form: shirtsleeves are rolled up; warm knitted sleeves are pulled down to cover fingers on a cold day' scarves are twisted and knotted; hemlines are hitched.

At this point of play, I suspect that clothing takes on a new role.  If a jumper is worn casually slung across our shoulders, perhaps with the cuffs carefully knotted on our chests, is it, at this point, a jumper, or has it become a necklace?

Found photograph
"Actress Deborah Kerr Wearing A Straw Hat, 
a Sweater Tied Around Her Shoulders"

Off The Cuff Studio work - found vintage dress, stitch, paper
© Vanda Campbell 2013

Off The Cuff Studio - found objects, paper, stitch
© Vanda Campbell 2013

Jilted

What happens to earrings when one of the pair is broken?  Is one, or both, left behind, assigned to a dusty corner of a jewellery box or drawer?  If the broken earring no longer functions as  jewellery, can it become something else?

Left Behind is a collection of earrings, one of which has been damaged or broken.  The imperfect one  is dipped and coated in tinted plastic, and hung in a grid opposite it's perfect other half.  The dipped earring no longer functions as jewellery but becomes something more - a body, a form.  The 'perfect' earring loses it's partner, and so is, in turn, left behind.

Studio Work in Progress Jilted © Vanda Campbell 2013 

Studio Work in Progress Jilted © Vanda Campbell 2013

Thick Skinned

In situations where a relationship, sequence, or pattern is taken for granted it is only when change occurs that we are reminded that a pattern exists and what it is supposed to be.  The relationships between the objects we carry or wear, and our body, are examples of just such a relationship.  By breaking the received pattern, I draw attention to it.  I present objects that are almost familiar – familiar materials in unfamiliar forms - and by reordering the received pattern, I aim to question and re-present these relationships.  

Traditional jewellery is often made of metals and gemstones; hard, cold materials that need violent intervention in the form of heating, hammering, and drilling to construct the desirable shapes and forms.  Our bodies, and the skin and clothing that cover them, have very different qualities: flexible, not static; elastic rather than rigid.  To place an item of jewellery, that is a hard, inflexible form on a body or clothing that is in a constant state of movement is surely a mismatch?  

Thick Skinned is an investigation of this mismatch, and comprises a collection of once-wearable found objects.  Broken necklaces, half paired earrings and abandoned trinkets have been dipped and coated in a tinted, liquid plastic.  Although the plastic dries with some flexibility, the articulated jewellery forms are trapped in a new format and become fixed.  A dangly earring no longer dangles, as it is swaddled in its new plastic skin, reminiscent of a pupa.  The colour of this new coating directly acknowledges the relationship between the object and the skin, and begins to visually blur the distinction between them.   Cold, hard materials such as metal and acrylic feel warm to the touch with this new coating, while forms such as necklaces or chains, are reformed into pendants or drops.  

The works in Thick Skinned are presented in a way that hints at wearability, but closer inspection reveals that there is no obvious way of wearing these reworked forms.  There are no evident fixings, or specific ways to hang or connect these works to the body.  They can however be held, stroked, pocketed.  They no longer function as jewellery in the traditional sense, but instead have become forms, or bodies.

Thick Skinned Found object  © Vanda Campbell 2013

Thick Skinned, Found object, plastic, thread  © Vanda Campbell 2013

A not so thick skin

There are a number of contemporary jewellers who are particularly interested in the relationship between the body and jewellery. Arguably, jewellery needs to be worn in order to fulfil its function, so to ignore this relationship would be foolish.  In addition to being worn on the body, jewellery is also often first attached to an item of clothing (eg. a brooch pinned to a lapel).  

For my final major project on the MA, I am exploring the relationship between these three elements - body, clothing and jewellery.  Is there a point at which one can function as another, or the qualities or aesthetics of one be echoed by the other two?

I have started looking at a few of the places in garments that are used to wear or carry objects, such as pockets but have yet to look closely at the body.  Until today.

At the start of the MA I experimented with applying a plastic coating to various found objects, with the initial intent to 'neutralise' their colour and form in some way.  What I discovered however, was that the plastic significantly altered the feel of the objects.  Cold, hard, metal objects became tactile once coated in this new skin, and almost warm or soft to touch.  Perhaps applying a 'skin' to found jewellery forms might be a way of acknowledging the body in this relationship?  Coating a chunky beaded necklace (found in a local charity shop) in an appropriately coloured skin, allows the form to be reinterpreted, and the beaded structure starts to take on the form of something much more skeletal.  I think I like!

Studio work - Skinned Alive  © Vanda Campbell 2013

Studio work - Thick Skinned  © Vanda Campbell 2013

Finding the findings

I have been struggling to get to grips with traditional metalworking skills, particularly those needed to craft the mechanics of jewellery pieces.  Failures, in varying degrees, so far include soldering, brooch pins, metal piercing. and anything that requires precision measurements and accuracy.  To be fair, I love my piercing saw (handed down from my father - a truly masterful goldsmith) and although I love the meditative process of piercing, I lack the patience to have any satisfactory control over the finished dimensions and form.   

Metal is such a cold, rigid material, it feels alien to work with compared to the flexibility of fabrics.  The act of working in metal is inevitably violent - heating the material to the point of surrender, before plunging it into a cold bath and then hammering it, bullying it, into taking on new forms and shapes.  Fabric on the other hand, would protest to the point of disintegration at such treatment.  If you have ever tried to fit a sleeve in a garment, you will know that fabric needs to be gently coerced or stretched into place.

It's taken me a while to accept the inevitable, but I am unlikely to be a maker who can draw on a wealth of traditional jewellery skills to solve the mechanics of my work.  But that doesn't mean I have to let go of producing the forms I need.  

I have written previously of my use of found objects, my findings ... and it's perhaps opportune that this same word is used to describe the small bits that go into the making of jewellery and garments.  I wonder what will happen if I replace jump rings and brooch pins with findings from the wonderful world of haberdashery?  Rather than using the obvious (buttons, zips, buckles etc.) the world of tailoring is full of hidden mechanics that support the structure and function of a garment ... methinks a trip to MacCulloch and Wallis is called for!

Flesh colour underwire casing, Macculloch & Wallis 

Sleeveless in Seattle

It's nearing assessment time for the current module on the MA, and I have been looking at ways to bring my current research to a (borrowing a phrase from Helen Carnac) resting place.  Jewellery needs to connect with the human body in order to fulfil its function.  Without this connection, it is nothing more than an assemblage. Or in my case, a found object assemblage - static, or worse, stagnant.  

Being placed directly on the body, or clothing that is worn however, brings the possibility of all sorts of accidental collisions. Something worn on the wrist, has the potential to momentarily connect with a neck piece as the body goes through the unrehearsed choreography of everyday movement.  It is at these points of synthesis that the excitement happens.

Blouse Bangle - silk organza, print, stitch © Vanda Campbell 2012 

Blouse Bracelet - silk organza, found object, elastic, ceramic, aluminium © Vanda Campbell 2012 

Blouse Necklace - copper, Plastidip, cotton © Vanda Campbell 2012 

Blouse Brooch - found mirror, paper, stitch  © Vanda Campbell 2012 

Studio work - Collision © Vanda Campbell 2012 

Studio work - Collision © Vanda Campbell 2012 

A pocket full of ...

I can't help but associate brooch pins as sharp, destructive weapons waging war on fine fabrics such as silk, organdie, or finely woven linen.  The hole left by the traditional brooch pin leaves a permanent scar on the cloth, needing to be covered on subsequent wearings by ... you've guessed it, another brooch, another pin.  If taken to extremes, the holes could consume the cloth, until all that remained was the vacuous scar.

A reluctance to use sharpened metal pins to fasten jewellery to clothing has led me to explore alternatives.  One alternative I have been looking at, is 'wearing' jewellery inside a pocket.  Each pocket has been constructed around the jewellery piece so the jewellery stays trapped in the pocket, unable to be worn.  The organdie fabric reveals a glimpse of what lies within, allowing the hidden to become visible.

Pocket Necklace, Organdie, Copper, Plastidip, Thread 
© Vanda Campbell 2012

Pocket Brooch, Organdie, Found Object, Aluminium, Crochet
© Vanda Campbell 2012

Pairing, Organdie, Found Object, Copper, Enamel
© Vanda Campbell 2012

Hot Under The Collar

I've subscribed to metalsmith, a contemporary jewellery journal published by the Society of North American Goldsmiths.  I'm not North American, nor a goldsmith, but from what I can see on their website my practice might find a place to call home here.  

And there's a current competition to enter!

"Hot Under the Collar: A Survey of contemporary Necklaces"

Choker, collar, lariat, torque, pendant, the necklace is one of the most diverse formats available to metalsmiths today. Whether cascading down the front, or draped down the back, the possibilities are nearly endless. The human torso provides us with one of our largest canvases, while still keeping body as site.  From comments on the classic strand of pearls to contemporary takes on armor, this juried exhibition seeks to showcase how metalsmiths today interpret this incredibly versatile object.

The deadline is 15th January, but as submission is via email, being 'across the pond' shouldn't cause a problem.  I have decided to enter two pieces I made in response to the 7 days project set at the start of the MA.

Untitled, Found object, linen, thread 2011 © Vanda Campbell

Untitled, Found object, steel, thread 2011 © Vanda Campbell

I have a relatively high skill level in traditional textile techniques (crochet and stitch in particular), and feel comfortable when working with these media.  On the other hand, my traditional metalworking jewellery skills are woefully lacking.  Despite growing up in a family of goldsmiths, as the 'girl' I was sent into the book-keeping office in school holidays, whereas my younger brother was shown the secrets of the workshop with the apprentices. How I wish for some of that hidden knowledge now!  I wonder if this explains my preferred use of textiles and thread, rather than metal for the neckchains in the 7 days, 7 finds, 7 chains collection.   I have thought about this long and hard, and believe that soft crochet chains are far more visually appealing than hard metal ones, and have a more sympathetic relationship to the body, so in this instance, my use of thread is appropriate.  

I am Vanda Campbell, and I am a jeweller. But in order to be one, I need to make jewellery that can be worn on the body, rather than hung on a gallery wall. I am comfortable putting bits of stuff together, stitching and adding thread as necessary, but am frozen in panic at the thought of making a brooch back out of silver, or a ring mount to set my pieces of stuff in. I'm not sure at the moment if this is a problem. It will be fairly simple to acquire the metal skills to fill the gaps in my knowledge, but I wonder if this is necessary. I admire work that exhibits a high skill level, and has an element of "how did they do that?". Pushing my existing skills and shouting about them (in a whisper!) would perhaps be more fitting than starting back at square one to learn new ones to fit in with some other expectation.

Precious Imperfection

When I embarked on the MA course, one of many intentions was to use the time and support to further my practice, not only practically and academically, but also professionally. There are loads of competitions and exhibition opportunities open to artists, and I have been spending a disproportionate amount of time grappling with my thoughts as to how I can adapt my work to fit in a fine art environment. 

The opportunities open specifically to applied artists are significantly less, but I have come across an international bi-annual jewellery competition.  The downside is there are only two weeks until the deadline.  It is easy to let another opportunity slip by while working on achieving perfection, and it is far too easy to find a thousand reasons to justify not doing something, and not taking a risk.  To enter, or not to enter?  "Enter". There, I've said it, I'm now committed.

Hosted by mineralART, the competition is titled 'inside quartz - precious imperfection'.  I don't work with traditional jewellery gemstones, and know very little about quartz, but the notion of precious imperfection is something I have been exploring in my use of broken, fragmented treasures, so I will find my own way of interpreting the brief ...

The competition focuses on the production of an innovative piece of jewellery or object made of or in connection with quartz that inspires the designer through inclusions of other crystals or structural qualities.  It is all about the actual design of the object.  There are no restrictions as to the origin or variety of the quartz used.  (excerpt from mineralART)

Google images have revealed some wonderful diagrams and photographs of various quartz, and I need to explore these further.  Two small purchases of quartz pieces from a witchy new age shop (thank you Dr Dave x) have provided some actual source material, so I'm off to work.  Drawing, printing, photographing, looking, researching, scanning ... images to follow.

Identifying Identity

In order for any work to have weight, substance, authority and relevance, it needs to communicate something other than the aesthetics of the materials.  If correctly identified, this message, I believe, can provide the foundation from which all other decisions may be made.  My recent explorations into materials and responses have been missing this, which means that in their current form, they can never be anything other than 'playing'.  It's time for the next stage in the process of making.

Identity has been hounding me for some time.  The world is full of labels - what do you do? what do you make?  who are you?  art gallery, craft gallery etc.  These labels, as I see it, seem to burden rather than provide enlightenment.  My own family history of jewellery is just one of many labels I need to understand in order to further my practice.  It would seem that identity, and particularly, personal identity, would be a good starting point.

Fragments of memory

A short article in the latest edition of Crafts magazine caught my eye ... Maria Militsi at the Marsden Woo Project Space, London.  A contemporary jeweller, who uses found objects, and shows her work in a gallery setting.  What could be better?!

I have visited the Marsden Woo Gallery a few times lately, and am growing more comfortable with the atmosphere of the gallery, which is slightly aloof and almost reverential. There is often an edginess to the work that they show, and the artists they represent seem to occupy a land that is both craft and art.  I particularly admire the fact the makers they represent seem to revel in this unique position, and their practices challenge the labels and expectations of the sometimes uncomfortable bedfellows of the fine and applied arts.

In Fragments of Memory, Maria Militsi uses found objects, and makes casts and imprints in silver, as a means of exploring emotional responses to the original objects.  I was particularly interested in how the works were displayed. Her installation Self Portraits has two components.  A collection of found crucifixes in different sizes, styles and materials are hung in the shape of a cross.  This is echoed by an adjacent display of their impressions, cast in silver metal, and hung from small nails directly in the gallery wall, as a single work.  Each individual imprint was for sale, and was supplied with a linen thread and photograph of the original found crucifix.  What a great way to present work - a wearable piece of jewellery, but sold in a package that includes the accompanying narrative.

Maria Militsi, Imprints of Crucifixes, detail (2011), image © Philip Sayer

There were many aspects of Militsi's work that resonated with my practice.  The found objects she chooses, are both ordinary and familiar, yet away from their natural habitat seem strange and new.  The objects I use are broken and fragmented, and seem strange and new initially, but closer investigation reveals their original form or function, and they regain their familiarity.  Caroline Broadhead described Militsi's work as "a collision of opposites: complete and incomplete, faithful and mutinous, melancholic and humorous" (www.marsdenwoo.com).  These conflicts appear logical when made real in Militsi's works, and a delicate silver pendant looks perfectly at home lying across an old, tatty chair, with a 30' long chain cascading to the floor.  

I am excited by contrasts of old and new, expected and unexpected, and suspect that this may be part of the solution to my desire to avoid 'twee' and keep an edginess, and 'dirtiness' (see earlier blog entry, Keeping it dirty) to my practice.