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 

Here we go ...

Finally back in the studio again ... teaching commitments mean that it's been a while, but I'm fired up and raring to go!

Tomoko Nagamichi, Pattern Magic 2

But what is it?
A hole?
A frame?
A setting?
Tantalising, isn't it?

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 

Crash, Bang, Wallop

Saturday morning, and my regular rummage through the local charity book shop led to a chance find of a collection of old cinema promotional photographs and postcards.  I've been aware that a connection with the body is essential to my practice, but it's not always practical to be both maker and model. Working with the anonymity of photographs might be an alternative solution.  

I anticipated that the photographs would act as mute, static models for my found object jewellery, but more significantly, I have realised they are found objects in their own right.  It is proving much more exciting to use them to create more collisions and connections.  

Studio work - found photograph, found ceramic, Plastidip
© Vanda Campbell 2012 

Studio work - found photograph, found object
© Vanda Campbell 2012

Studio work - found photograph, found plastic, fabric
© Vanda Campbell 2012

Studio work - found photograph, found plastic
© Vanda Campbell 2012

Souvenirs from St Ives

On a visit to the Royal Cornwall Museum in Truro last week, I was disappointed by the lack of anything textile-based in the collection.  I suspect this is due to a number of factors, not least the inherent mortality of textiles.  I wonder, too, if the often lowly, domestic status of a large number of items made from textiles is deemed unworthy to be included in many museums.  Museums all to often seem to pride themselves on their collections of valuable status items once owned by the rich and important.  It would be nice however, to also have an insight into the lives, tools and possessions of the 'lower' echelons of society.    The inevitable exit through the giftshop, and displays of tacky souvenirs, provided plenty of food for thought.

British seaside towns are great places for souvenir spotting. Perfectly serviceable objects, such as plates or spoons are rendered functionless, by the addition of copious quantities of frilly edges, sentimental phrases, and even googley eyes. A camping holiday in a British seaside town also, inevitably, involves rain.  Tent-bound, with only a crochet hook for a studio, I set about making my own found object souvenirs.  

Everyday, thrown-away items, with the addition of textiles, and elevated to 'souvenir' status.  

Studio work - Souvenir 1, Found plastic, crochet  © Vanda Campbell 2012

Studio work - Souvenir 2, Found plastic, crochet  © Vanda Campbell 2012

Studio work - Souvenir 3, Found leather, crochet  © Vanda Campbell 2012

Studio work - Souvenir 1, Found wood, crochet  © Vanda Campbell 2012

On the edge, part ii

Continuing with the theme of edges, I discovered these edge-on views of Shezad Dawood's textile works at the Newlyn Art Gallery, Cornwall.  

I love how I was rewarded with an expected mark or colour when I ventured around the side, away from the front.  I think this may be something I return to.  I am excited by the possibilities of exploring edges of differing materials, colours, marks etc., and how they relate to the main structure of a piece.  At what point does the edge lose its 'edge' status and take over I wonder?

Inverse Pyramid, acrylic on vintage textiles
Shezad Dawood 2010

The Sun Grows Cold, acrylic on vintage textiles
Shezad Dawood 2010

Cosmic Egg, acrylic on vintage textiles
Shezad Dawood 2010

On the edge

I find edges intriguing.  They can be frames, forgotten spaces, points of collision between materials, or an opportunity for a bit of frivolity.  For me, edges are where the exciting stuff happens.  

I overhead an artist once talking about the importance of the ends of a (drawn) line ... something along the lines of 'if you pay attention to the ends of a line, the middle will look after itself'.

Do you think the same can be true of edges?

Vintage textile

Vintage textile

Spoon Enough,  Aluminium, found chandalier glass, crochet  © Vanda Campbell 2010

Too spoon to mention,  Aluminium, found bobbin, crochet  © Vanda Campbell 2010