Inspiration and Technique
My custom-made jewelry is a collage
representing the colors and textures all around my home on the
New England seacoast. I never make the same thing twice. When I
walk on the beach in early summer, I study the way the shells
and pebbles at my feet form a carpet of interesting textures
after a storm. In late August, the green leaves of the trees
beyond the dunes deepens and highlights of orange and red
appear. I watch the sun travel across the sky of Buzzard’s Bay
and change the water from deep blue green velvet to a shimmering
turquoise and pink at day’s end. I think of all of these images
when I mix my palette of gemstones, beads and patinas. By
combining traditional textile techniques with metalsmithing, I
weave these images into bracelets, pins and necklaces. For me,
any piece of jewelry must be beautiful as well as easy to wear. It should never distract from the beauty of the person wearing
the jewelry. Jewelry should be transformational and make us feel
that we can move beyond our everyday selves and reveal the light
of our individuality.
In our large family we children were encouraged to take art
classes and our parents marched us through museums on many
Sunday afternoons. I took studio art classes in college while
majoring in architecture. After working in architecture and
merchandising for many years, I knew my days at a desk job were
numbered. In 1997 I began taking metalsmithing courses at night.
When I realized that I couldn’t work at a torch in my basement
and keep my eye on a busy two-year-old, I found inspiration in Arline Fisch’s wonderful book,
Textile Techniques in Metal. I
was fascinated by the idea of transforming something as stiff as
wire into a shimmering, colorful fabric that could hold any
shape and yet be very flexible.
I always felt badly that I had wasted my architecture education
by dropping out and spending my days at a basement workbench
until I realized that I use every bit of it every day. All the
lessons learned about the strength and nature of materials, the
psychology of color, how gravity works, how things connect, how
form does indeed follow function are all part of how I make my
design decisions. I’ve continued to take metalsmithing and
weaving classes whenever I could at places like Touchstone
Center for Crafts, Haystack, the University of Massachusetts
Dartmouth and the Fuller Craft Museum. My goal is to explore
more varied types of woven techniques and try new materials
beyond wire.
My Technique
When I am demonstrating at my booth
during an art show or an opening, people find it hard to believe
that I am knitting with wire on such tiny needles but people
have been knitting with wire for thousands of years. It was a
popular way to make armor and belts in the ancient world and in
the early 20th century in Germany machines wove wire to make
purses and other ladies’ accessories. In the late 1960s metal
artist, Arline Fisch, researched and wrote about adapting many
textile techniques to wire in her book, Textile Techniques in
Metal. She is famous for her large knitted wire neckpieces and
beautiful clasps. Knitting with wire is a challenging process taking
on average one hour to knit an inch of wire fabric. Unlike yarn,
which has loft and a good amount of stretch, wire has limited
flexibility. Stitches can’t be ripped out easily and if the wire
is overworked, it will become brittle and snap. It’s hard to
hide the end of a new wire so it’s a challenge to knit with one
continuous length of wire. Crocheting with wire is faster but
doesn’t give the same density of fabric, unless one uses an
extremely small crochet hook or crochets in a flat strip. After
I make the beaded wire fabric, I have to devise a way to make
the piece hold its shape and function well. This is where metalsmithing skills and knowledge of cold connections comes in
handy. Working with textile techniques requires a lot of
patience but the results are worth the effort.