A number of people have asked me how I part with jewelry I've made, especially when it's obvious the creation of it was so personal. Well, as other designers know, you can't keep everything. Not only would there never be an opportunity to wear all of them, but I've found the creation of a piece and findng its new owner is often the catharsis and then I'm ready to move on. The piece is meant to continue its story through someone else. I do have a very nice collection of one of a kind jewelry. Many pieces are from other artists I admire and of course many of the pieces are made by moi. They tend to be practice pieces, but occasionally I'll make something that will sit on that place in the brain that keeps telling me "I want it!" The latter start out in my online shop and attend art fairs. However, I tell myself that if it doesn't sell and I'm still mad for it in a certain amount of time, it was meant to be mine. Sound like familiar reasoning?
Well, this piece that is now mine didn't follow that path, but as I was making the pendant about 3 years ago it did occur to me that it was going to be a favorite. I felt it would sell fast due to its motif, so it was likely going to continue its life with a new owner and I hoped I'd know that person. I drew the design out and planned it carefully, as I had a picture in my head that I wanted to reach. I collected a young grape leaf from our fence and using metal clay made a sweet silver leaf. I'd bought a Tiffany Stone cabachon from Gary Wilson that was going to be perfect. It was going to be the first time I created a piece using prongs on metal clay. Each step was carefully planned in steps. I was ready to set the stones: the Tiffany stone and tiny moonstone. As I bent down one of the prongs, it snapped off. I took a deep breath and began the repair. Once again I had a problem, but I compounded it by breaking the Tiffany stone in my haste and frustration... patience was starting to go. I walked away and came back the next day.
I repaired the stone, but I knew then that I couldn't and wouldn't sell it. The repair on the prong wasn't what I wanted either, as it was too rough for the image in my head. I felt like it needed to rest before I attempted anything more with it. I did go ahead and put a patina on it, but set it in a box to be discovered a few days ago when doing some organizing. I realize I still love it, even with its imperfections. It would be a reminder to me to be patient and not go further than what the moment called for. I guess being in the moment has a new meaning for me. I also forsee myself wearing it many times to the wine events and dinners my husband and I love to go to with friends.