Regular blog posts on Hiatus

Dear everyone – I’m declaring my regular Wed/Fri blog post schedule a casualty of my late pregnancy state, and placing it on hiatus. For the past couple of weeks my mood has dipped into a sort of numbing apathy I can only classify as prenatal depression. Holding myself to the smallest commitments depletes my will power; it is very upsetting to me, but disciplined writing has shifted from an empowering challenge to a suffocating obligation. I’ve decided that, in order to endure the next month without self-imposed guilt trips and fits of crying over not being able to do everything that I think I should, I’m going to hold myself accountable to the bare minimum: sufficient sleep, daily walks, regular food intake.  I will focus the rest of my energy on staying calm and stable.

Looking forward to brighter moods

I actually anticipate that that I will continue working, and that you will still hear from me. I’m drawn to explore a number of projects/topics:

• doing a photo a day, with gem materials as objects, in order to improve product photography;
• doing a sketch a day of some local flora elements (leaves, sticks, flowers), in order to develop design skills and generate ideas for metalsmithing projects;
• remaking the majority of the beaded pieces I made for myself in 2011;
• working out a version of the pieces I have in the store with a lower price point;
• coming up with 2-3 economical designs integrating metal-worked components and gemstones;
• experimenting with fabricating headpins and ear-wires myself;
• educating myself about the wholesale process and reaching out to retailers (boutiques, galleries);
• trying out Pinterest and Instagram as alternative social marketing platforms to Facebook;
• documenting the design challenges various types of gemstones present;
• writing fiction;
• writing a couple of personal essays, including one on my experience with this pregnancy;

Many of these happen to require regular practice in order to yield any kind of results. But since I feel unable to commit to any new practice routines, I’m keeping these activities as a wish-list (instead of a plan, or promises to myself).

You may point out that, “Olga, just last week, you had grand intentions of combatting procrastination. How does that integrate with your new plan to, well, plan nothing?” A very fair question! I think, I’m still going to try to apply some of the techniques I mentioned to any activities I’m undertaking (even ones like dishwashing):

• remind myself that I do not need to complete the task in one go;
• set 30 minute alarms to create conscious openings for myself to switch tasks;
• before jumping into any creative activity,  take 5 minutes to break it down into small basic steps;
• consider completing a single step of an activity as a solid accomplishment;
• aim to try, aim to practice, see everything as a learning opportunity, rather than a thing that must be done to perfection.

Passion is NOT a requirement for beginners

Have you noticed that conventional advice for “becoming an artist” tries to scare off the amateurs? For instance, Demian of CopyBlogger writes:

“[If you … could live a life without writing then don’t pursue a writing career.] …You simply don’t have what it takes to endure the downs of the writing life.”

Guys, I call bullshit.

Have you ever heard “Mark, unless you breathe accounting, do not even try”? Nope! Yet when Mark commits to a career path in accounting, he is not guaranteed to “make it”.

Say Mark loooves the accounting process. The spectrum of available jobs will still range from mind-numbing to fulfilling. Mark could thrive, or dissolve into the average, or discover that accounting drains his soul. He cannot predict the outcome without trying.

Yeah, the market for creative crafts is more uncertain and risky. Yet, is it your calling? You gotta enter it to tell.

 

Digging into Procrastination

In college, the last hours before a large assignment deadline always gave me a huge creativity boost; my head would flood with inspiration, and I’d suddenly be up for anything – to tackle becoming Michelangelo! – anything but homework. Over the years I’ve improved in time management; but my apartment is still the cleanest whenever some daunting task taunts from the horizon.

What is your biggest roadblock to systemic productivity? I’m convinced that mine is the fear of starting – aka, procrastination. As impending parenthood nears and my energy levels steadily decline, many of the things I used to see as enjoyable, manageable commitments have become arduous. I anticipate their discomfort, so I put them off. But they remain on my list of “shoulds” and “needs to do”. As a result, I stress more but do less.

To be fair, partly I’m just struggling with lagging expectations. I’m 36 weeks pregnant today, but still stubbornly resisting the full effects of my state. Some changes in my activity level come naturally and are easier to accept. For instance, sitting in a Starbucks wood chair for an hour exhausts my back, so I’ve made close friends with the Pillowsac in our living room. Yet home is full of distractions; there are chores, there is cooking. Focusing on work requires additional structure, which requires a predictable energy supply, which I don’t have. Whoops! I’m greedy – I still want to do it all. I’m sad that for now, I can’t.

Mostly though, I catch myself fearing, delaying and avoiding. I’ve made such good progress over the past year in becoming self-driven, in constructing my environment to encourage focus and creativity, in making the most of my days – that relapsing into habitual procrastination would just. suck. So. My goal for the next month is to dissect my penchant for procrastination until I surmount it!

As a start: I tend toward a self-reinforcing cycle of “all or nothing”. I don’t know how this tendency developed (or why it was ever useful for me), but at this point in my life I’m actively working to neutralize it. I suppose it boils down to:

• I do not trust myself to finish challenging projects. Once I start a task, I push to complete it in a single go, afraid that I will abandon it if I take a break. With tasks that are long and hard, this means working relentlessly into a mindless exhaustion.
• Mindless exhaustion is not a pleasant experience. It leads to burn out, and typically results in poor decision-making and more errors in the final product. All around, it’s not something I’d consciously want to put myself through.
  • To top it off, scope creep: typically, in the process of working on a project, I become aware of additional ways to make the result more comprehensive, better. But I do not notice that my internal measure for the success of the project automatically rises to encompass this new vision. Reaching merely the original goal becomes falling short. Moreover, I forget to grant myself additional time to strive for the new goal – I try to squeeze it into the original time frame.
• Consequently, I often run over my estimates for time and effort needed per project. Anxious to complete it, I rush. Rushing, I stress. My memory from the resulting experience focuses on fatigue, and performing worse than I wanted, and a sense of failure.
• Feeling like I failed regardless of the actual project outcome is not a great motivator to try on more projects. It makes me really reluctant to start anything that might take more than a couple of hours. So I delay, and avoid. And the more I delay, the bigger the fear grows. The harder it becomes to start.

My plan of tackling procrastination involves some techniques that have worked for me in the past, and some that I’ve yet to try:

• For every new project, especially the bigger ones – outline it in great detail to get the best concept of scope possible.
• Break the outline into a myriad of small components, the more basic the better. Aim for a duration of 30-90 minutes for each.
• Think of the very first step (for example: with a blog post, this would be creating a file for the copy, or gathering sources) – and just do the first 5 minutes of it. There – that was the start.
• Give yourself a specific time every day to work on the project – trust that you will always have that time set aside to make progress.
• Set timers. Give yourself 45 minutes of focus, then force yourself to get up and recharge or switch tasks. That way, you cannot overwork yourself. After several iterations, you will trust that you can pause midway and come back to the task successfully.
• Set your definition of “success” at the bare bones of the project. Work towards getting the minimum done. Feel good about your work. Then, if there is time and you are still inspired, let yourself increase the scope – and remind yourself that you have gone above and beyond.

“Pure Art” vs “Craft”

I recently came across an opinion that art intended for sale is less pure than noncommercial art:

“I think, because [Van Gogh] never sold a painting during his lifetime, it’s pure art. Artists, when they sell their first piece, start to see their art through the customer’s or dealer’s eyes. It changes the work, and IMHO, diminishes its purity. The art starts to have a purpose; making money. If it has a purpose, then it’s a craft.

I disagree. Elevating one piece of art over another based on the notion of “purpose” overlooks two defining elements shared by all artworks: a) intent of the author; b) interpretation of the audience.

Most artists create work with a goal in mind. Even when the intent is as high-level as “to inspire” or “to educate”, that purpose results in functionality. Additionally, most art serves as a mode of communication, and thus seeks an audience – the more the better. Does recognition in the form of critical acclaim really make a piece more worthy than would monetary compensation?

Besides, we experience the world through the lens of our histories; looking at the same piece, you see something different than I. So to me, the audience’s interpretation is more critical a factor than the original intent for the work.

Garnets – Greens and Reds

As a kid, I used to play with (read: mostly break and “improve”) my mom’s costume jewelry. She had several red beaded garnet pieces which gave me the impression that garnet was a cheap, boring gem. In rare sunny moments, the polished stones could look like pomegranate seeds. The rest of the time, they were tiny pits of blackness – pointless, and definitely not pretty. (Back then, I didn’t make allowances for differences in taste; I’d lived a whole decade, after all. Either I was right, or you were just confused).

Nowadays, these gems have my undying love. Consisting of silicate minerals with similar physical properties and crystal forms yet different chemical compositions, the garnet group has a lot to offer (especially for a noob collector, or a gem lover on a budget).

Collection of Different Garnets (GIA Garnet Bibliography)

Five mineral species of the garnet group are significant for the gemstone industry: pyrope (red), almandine (red, inclining to purple), spessartine (orange), grossular (ranging from yellow to colorless to green), and andradite (brownish-yellow, green, black). Ranging from 6.5 to 7.5 on Mohs scale, these stones are considered a durable choice for everyday wear. In addition, there are currently no known treatments that enhance a garnet visually – thus garnets are sold unadultered, and you don’t need to worry about synthetics unless you’re seeking one of the rarer varieties (such as color change garnet). As a perk, the non-pyrope garnet species have remained un-popularized to the public, which keeps their prices significantly lower than those of precious gemstones with similar coloring (rubies, emeralds).

Tsavorite Garnet

I am addicted to the Tsavorite variety of the Grossular garnet species. (I mean this with 70% seriousness; seeing that refractive greenness sparks an itch to spend. I control myself mostly by not looking). Discovered in 1960 by Campbell Bridges, tsavorite is primarily sourced from the border of Tanzania and Kenya. The highest quality stones display a deep green color with a blue modifier. Affordable to newbies like myself in sizes under 1 carat, faceted tsavorite jumps in rarity and price for larger specimens.

I have a rocking tsavorite in my engagement/wedding ring, but that’s not enough! When tsavorite began appearing in the bead market (in the past year or so), I didn’t even try to stay away. My supply is small but I am so excited to make the most of these.

From top to bottom in the photo below, we have: a) mint garnet faceted rondelles; b) smooth tsavorite rondelles; c) faceted tsavorite rondelles; d) rough tsavorite chips.

You will notice that of the four, the rough tsavorite chips have the lowest quality. Non transparent, uneven in color, included with specks of brown – you might ask, why even get them? I think you have to see them in a piece of jewelry (for instance, the “Desert Glory” Earrings) to understand why hammered chips are here to stay in my inventory. Over and over, I find that the rough finish improves the color impact of the darker minerals – the chips are thin and let the light through easily; they are also wide, so command a greater visual area. As a result, as long as the piece works with a calmer color, it takes less rough chips than rondelles to fill in the same space.

Of course, the rondelles tend to use higher quality material (greater color, greater transparency, plus more brilliance if faceted) and thus also tend to pack a greater punch. For example, the “Lemon Bouquet” Earrings feature only a couple tsavorite rondelles amidst the cluster of cooler apatites, but that couple is unmistakable and livens up the overall palette considerably.

Pretty close-ups of my pretties! (In case my self satisfied grin isn’t reaching you across the interwebs – I am soo proud of these shots. Those blurrs, oh those colorrss, purrr)

Rhodolite Garnet

My second favorite garnet is a mix of Pyrope and Almandine species – Rhodolite. While pyrope has a bloody/burgundy tone, and almandite tends towards wine, rhodolite whispers of raspberries. Unfortunately, in bead form, it also tends to be darker than pyrope (as you can see in the photo below: pyrope garnet in the top right; rhodolite in the bottom left).

This is another great example of why a rough finish is sometimes the best. In the photo below, from left to right, you see: a) smooth rhodolite chips; b) smooth pyrope chips; c) rough rhodolite chips. And undeniably, the color of the rough rhodolite is better than of the smooth rhodolite. Perhaps I’m noting correlation instead of causation, but there you have it: a hammered finish lightens the shade of color, and thus works great for stones that tend to black out.

Writing Less to Say More

If you’ve met me, you know that I have trouble speaking my mind. Sure, in a comfortable setting or one-on-one, I’ll open up. Listen generously, and I might even get chatty. But generally, I am that odd smiling girl – attentive to your words but failing to offer up any of my own in return.

Wild Olyas: often shy and always silly.

Yet give me a page to be filled and I have trouble shutting up. Perhaps compensating for my frequent silence, all my ideas start to look shiny and crucial to voice. I work to narrow my topic, I edit exhaustively – and still end up with behemoths of essays. I mean, my last post hit 1528 words. A little intense, mayhaps, for “using leafy props in earring photography is hard“?

So. To train myself to write concisely, I will limit weekly Friday posts to 150 words.

Using Branches in Earring Photography

In theory, I have a very good idea of what I’d like my product photography to look like. For instance, when I envision the shop page of Wild Naiada Designs, it brims with a joyful and consistent look that also manages to:

1. show close-ups of my products in a composition that engages the eye;
2. accurately portray the color and size of my products;
3. convey a bright and uplifting mood;
4. depict the good taste and quality craftsmanship I put into my work;
5. include elements from my main source of inspiration – a woodland environment;
6. cohesively fit in with Etsy’s general aesthetic.

Just a little ambitious, right? Too bad I’m a total photography noob. The past year of experimentation with my i-phone and my husband’s DSLR taught me that photography is a rather involved art form – all those tools that require understanding and precise control – the lighting, the camera, the setting up of the composition in a three dimensional space… My shop’s look has expanded and improved, but it is still too eclectic and undecided for my liking:

One of the things I am determined to conquer by 2015 is using leafy elements as props in the listing cover shots. Because… to me, a lack of natural elements in that all-important first-impression photograph just. looks. off. It looks dead, it’s not sufficiently “me”, it’s wrong. My photos must have some earthy thing (bonus points if it’s green and alive).

Another aspect of listing cover shots I cannot compromise on: the earrings must be hanging as they would on the ear. Lying flat or hanging off a cup does not work for my designs – the earring shape changes, the silver wire-work gets overexposed, and the visual effect created is simply not true to the way the earrings are intended to look.

This is one of the first photos I took last summer, and I still love it to death. It’s got that elusive summer atmosphere I want to portray. Unfortunately, it lacks greatly as product photography – that bamboo hanger is just out of place, and the greenery distracts too much from the earrings.

So. Combined, these two musts mean that over an over, I use branches as hanging implements for my products. So far, I’ve tried and discarded a shoot of potted English Ivy and a sprig of a weeping fig, and am still evaluating a random stick with two intertwined dried vines of honeysuckle.

Potted English Ivy

I started with English Ivy because it was the only usable plant I had at the time; its sturdy vines could support the weight of earrings, and its leaves were damn cute.

The set-up to the right consists of the “Midnight Waters” Earrings hanging on transparent beading wire that is attached to an empty photo frame with spring clamps. The ivy pot is positioned slightly behind the frame. The white of the painted balcony door serves as background. I took the photo with my i-phone on a bright but cloudy day.

What worked: a) the ivy succeeds as a dynamic element: it breaks up the white space and frames the earrings; b) the green of the ivy reiterates and emphasizes the green of the Thai Sapphires.  What didn’t: a) setting up the ivy and the earrings on the same focus plane resulted in a competing amount of detail; b) too much green – the ivy overwhelms the earrings with sheer area; c) in an attempt to capture the plant, I framed too widely – the earrings take up minimal space, and do not feel prominent; d) major bleh – the white background looks stark and flat.

The set-up below is more successful, and even resulted in some lovely shots – but it ended up convincing me that ivy is basically too pretty a prop for the look I’d like to achieve.

Here, the “Full Twilight” Earrings dangle directly on the shoot of ivy that has turned red from the summer sun. The branch position is guided and supported by strategic placing of extra spring clamps on the empty photo frame. The backdrop consists of a square of grey cotton I got at JoAnn’s. I took the photo indoors by a window, in shadow on a sunny day, using a DSLR and a macro lens.

What worked: a) a shallow depth of field blurs the textured fabric into a uniform tone, and conveys space by blurring some of the ivy leaves; b) the shot is framed much closer to the earrings – we have no question where to look; c) the greenish red of the ivy nicely complements the color scheme of the earrings.  What didn’t: a) the ivy has too much beautiful detail – the eye is drawn to the veins and the coloring; b) the ivy growth pattern is too dense, and makes the upper part of the shot hectic and busy; c) when the backdrop is grey, it somehow fails to be a neutral grey – instead, it muddies up the feel of the shot. [In contrast, when I use vividly colored fabric for the backdrop to make the shots visually pop (as it does here or here), the overall look of the shop page becomes a garish kaleidoscope.]

Ficus Benjamina

Ficus Benjamina, also known as the weeping fig, is a ridiculously temperamental house plant that will shed leaves at the slightest shift in environment (be it a new amount of sunlight, or an unexpected breeze). However, they looks like real trees and remind me of birches, so I just have to own two of them. Last fall, one the ficus thrived so hard it sent an enormous shoot all the way up to the ceiling. After I groomed the plant into a semblance of roundness, I gave the shoot a try as a prop.

In the set-up to the left, the “Lemon Sorbet” Earrings hang on the flexible ficus branch that has mostly been immobilized by that same empty photo frame with spring clamps. The frame is precariously balanced on the balcony railing, against the background of some lovely neighboring trees. (In case you’re wondering – yes, there was wind, and yes, my set-up totally crashed a couple of times. A pair of apatite earrings broke and I had to remake them. So, yah – do not try this at home). I took the photo outdoors on a cloudy day with my husband’s equipment.

What worked: a) I really dig the composition of the diagonal lines created by the branches; b) backlit, the leaves look interesting and epic, but not too distracting, since they partially blend into to the rest of the background. What didn’t: a) backlighting really washed out the lemon quartz in the earrings; b) the blurred background has nice bokeh, but is still too detail heavy; c) the amount of green overwhelms the earrings.

On the right you see the “Falling Leaves” Earrings in a similar set-up, except indoors and against a grey fabric backdrop. This shoot mostly didn’t work: a) against a grey background, the ficus leaves look huge and distracting. The green is not a complement to the yellows and browns in the earrings, and instead cheapens their color.  b) the ficus leaves are in the same plane of focus as the earrings, which lets us see a lot of detail on the leaves – this flattens the image, and steals even more of our attention.

Dried Honeysuckle

Experimenting with English Ivy and the Weeping Fig convinced me that branches with green leaves would always pose one or both of the following problems: a) green isn’t always a complement to the color scheme of the particular earrings; b) the leaves are likely be in sharp focus and distract attention from the earrings. So I decided to try a dry branch instead – leafless, neutral. I found a twig with dry vines of honeysuckle, and really liked its visual properties – full of knobs and imperfections, it looked wavy and dynamic.

To set the branch up, I prop it on a pile of books, and weigh it down for stability with some wool scarves. I like that by turning it, or by using a different segment of it, I can arrange the earrings at engaging angles – one above the other, or one behind the other. At this point, I’ve used it exclusively indoors against fabric backdrops.

On the left, you see “Elina Rose” Earrings against a deep purple shawl. The purple works great as a contrast for both the branch and the earrings, and adds wonderful vitality to the photo. Unfortunately, it is too colorful to work for a listing cover shot.

On the bottom, you see “Slim Twilight” Earrings against a white cotton backdrop (I know, right? It looks totally grey! I couldn’t figure out how to fix it in post-editing without washing out all the elements unrealistically). I am pretty proud of this shot because it’s artsy: I was able to convey perspective by using a shallow depth of field, and create an engaging composition by placing the branch and the earrings off-center. However. The monotonous pale background somehow looks more staged than ever. It’s nice that the earrings are the most colorful object in the shot, but I feel like the background saps their hue instead of enhancing it. The result is a little bleak, lifeless.

I’m going to keep playing with this set-up, of course, but I’m out of ideas. How can I add greenery without distracting the viewer from the earrings? Or how can I make my shots feel vibrant while keeping a white/grey background? If you have any suggestions – do comment!

Materials: Black Tourmalinated Quartz

I was sorting through my gemstone inventory the other day when I came across this wonder: faceted hexagon-shaped cushion briolettes of black Tourmalinated Quartz.

Photo taken from original transaction listing

I got these in 2011 from an Indian vendor (who can no longer be found on Etsy) – and I have not been able to find a similar strand since. These are… kind of amazing.

What is Tourmalinated Quartz?

In the gemstone bead market, crystals of regular quartz that contain black or dark green needle-like tourmaline inclusions are called “Tourmalinated Quartz”. [Sometimes I see people refer to them as “Black Rutilated Quartz” – but that is a misleading title. The terms “rutile” and “rutilated”, when used accurately, actually refer to the presence of titanium dioxide. When TiO2 occurs in quartz, it also appears as thin needle like inclusions – however, they have a high refractive index and appear copper/golden in color.]

Earrings w/ Rutilated Quartz Briolettes

Earrings w/ Tourmalinated Quartz Briolettes

Why are these beads so awesome?

Well, three reasons really: quality, shape and rarity.

Tourmalinated Quartz bead , lit up from behind on a fabric backdrop (by Levon)

Same tourmalinated quartz bead, on paper (by Levon).

The majority of tourmalinated quartz that you can find in bead form tends to be included in other ways. Often, the beads will have a cloudy or milky body color, which makes them visually murky and obscures the intricacy of the black needles. What you see on the left counts as higher quality material: the quartz body is clear, transparent.

Countless browsing of online bead retailers has taught me that a “Hexagonal Briolette” is a fairly uncommon shape. I expect is it harder to facet and drill than other shapes, and thus more costly to stock. When used, it somehow gravitates to cheap and highly treated types of quartz (which to me, the somewhat purist, looks more plastic than stone). Yet, the shape is sexy! The bastard child of a circle, rectangle and triangle, if you will. I find it tirelessly pleasing to the eye.

The combination of the material quality and the briolette shape make these a rare strand (and make me feel like a dragon, hoarding treasure, muahahaa). If that weren’t enough, these beads are a stylistic treat: classically black from a distance, they steal attention with the web of the inclusions up close. So yeah, I love ’em.

The Challenge of Top-Drilled Hexagon Briolettes

My first design featuring these beads was the “Strictly Business” earrings pair – a clean graduating cascade of three stones, positioned to have independent mobility from each other and  hang in a layered curtain. Simplicity works best for these beads – the color, shape and sparkle already makes them flirty – no extra frill needed. Hence the design name; I imagine these being a nuanced addition of girly cheekiness to an otherwise strict professional outfit.

Pardon the yellowness, I couldn’t get rid of it – both the walls and my shirt were bright yellow.

Now, when crafting earrings, it’s sort of a big deal to have them look relatively identical. In practice, bead strands do not come calibrated. So no two beads of this strand truly matched in size or color intensity. More importantly, no two had evenly drilled stringing holes. Instead, the holes varied in angle, distance to the tip, and even the bead center. Some of them were so poorly positioned that without the support of a wire cocoon, they guaranteed a broken bead.

So when tackling my vision for this design, I chose a wire wrapping look that visually evened out the beads and increased their structural integrity. I didn’t expect that wrapping a top-drilled hexagonal briollete takes extra chops – specifically, meticulous and steady hands.

Mine didn’t start out that way. I was new to the craft, new to the feel of silver, and new to the nuances of wire gauges – as you can probably tell by looking at my first rendition of “Strictly Business” (photo on the left). The wire I chose was too thick; it looks like fat noodles and was hard to manipulate and layer evenly.

I made a second rendition of “Strictly Business” last summer, with a couple of years of wire-work under my belt. You know, the look really benefitted from the acquired skill, LOL. They came out more elegant, and tidier. I’m rather looking forward to replicating the design further, and to integrating these hexagonal beads into necklaces.

Jewelry Fabrication: Dapping Disks

Lately, physical exhaustion comes over me quickly and without warning, like summer thunderstorms in Maryland. I hear it’s a common symptom of being a pregnant version of oneself, yet this feels rather different from regular fatigue. It doesn’t build up over a day’s hard work; it doesn’t culminate as muscle pains or mental zombie-ism. Instead, it swiftly voids. One moment, I’ll be functioning on what feels like full energy reserves. Then a breath later, the strength will recede like draining water. I’ll feel breathless. I’ll have to sit down. Sometimes, I’ll find myself waking up from unintended naps!

 

This new need for breaks snuck up on me midway into Michael’s Creative Metalworks Studio Spring Semester, when I was practicing anticlastic raising by working a square of copper into a hyperbolic paraboloid. (It looked so straightforward in pictures!) There I sat in frustrated determination, hammering away the first hour of class over a sinusoidal stake, when my stamina shakily dropped its arms, wheezed “I’m done!” and shuffled out, rendering me useless for the remaining two hours. I mean, at first I tried to inconspicuously wander the studio under the pretense of checking out people’s projects, but that only made them suspicious that I wasn’t contributing to making noise. Seeking to project purpose, I grabbed a textbook from Michael’s shelves and settled into absorbing it: Creative Metal Forming.

You guys, if I felt rich enough to supply my home studio with tools for anticlastic and synclastic raising, this book would be mine. First of all, it’s got sexy photos of sexy metal shapes (like the Rockpot by Cynthia Eid. Droool. I waaant one). Second, it features an extensive progression of exercises with demonstration images and detailed instructions. Third, did I mention the sexy metal shapes?

 

One of the book’s exercises promised straightforward assembly and minimal hammering – a welcome project to circumvent my swift fatigue. The authors called it a “simple lentiform”, which I think we can refer to as “making a bead out of domed disks”. I decided to incorporate the exercise into a pendant design: a bronze top with a pierced off-center sun; a copper bottom, for color contrast; potential last minute addition of a bezeled moonstone cabochon as the sun’s core; and a to-be-decided bail. At this point, I’m 6-8 hours into the project, and so far – so good. As usual, I’ve walked into a couple of unexpected setbacks. In contrast to my prior endeavors at Michael’s studio, I was able to address these without feeling like the work was getting away from me. Here are some of the highlights.

 

Dapping Tools

Michael’s studio is full of tools, and he always seems to have at least three options ready to achieve any particular result. For example, I needed to dome a disk that was too large to fit into any of the standard dapping blocks, so my choices were: a) chasing the metal over a steel ball; b) synclastic forming into a domed indent, formed on the spot in some pine wood block; c) using the hydraulic press (to which I was like, “Isn’t that super cheating?!” And apparently, it is. Just really really cool cheating).

For this instance, I chose to play with Michael’s extensive collection of dapping blocks, standard dapping punches, and huge steel balls on large screws that perform as non-standard dapping punches.

When using the standard punches with the smaller top disk of the pendant, I worked with a ball peen hammer (large and hefty, they are designated for hitting other steel tools). When synclastically raising the larger bottom disk of the pendant over a steel ball, I used a chasing hammer to dome the metal. (Since this type of hammer is used in application directly on pieces of softer metals – copper, silver, gold – it must have a smooth surface without marring.  In other words, never hit steel with a chasing hammer).

 

Breaking the Sun Dome, Twice

I started this project at home. I’ve cut out the disks from flat sheets, and pierced out the sun design. But I had not prepped them for forming  – I was yet to anneal them. In that state, I brought the disks to Michael for approval and best approaches to doming. So when Michael set the sun disk into a dapping block and punched it, I wasn’t surprised to hear a “well, f***”. The bronze was too brittle to take the pressure – and one of the rays broke.

Now, I think that my visual design choice contributed to the break. When the dapping punch was hit directly down, the force applied didn’t stretch the “sun” in the design; that’s because the sun’s core is off-center, at an angle. Instead, dead center was the connection of the sun to the ill-fated ray. No wonder it broke.

Michael remedied the break quickly and efficiently. After an annealing session, he used a riveting hammer to stretch the bronze from the base of the ray, elongating it until it once again connected to the sun. (In the left portion of the photo below, you can see the ray soldered back).

Except, I wanted the dome of the disk to be fuller. And I wanted to use the dapping block for myself. So I did. I was good apprentice about it too – I started with the largest diameter recess, and annealed almost every three applications of force. Nonetheless – Dum DUM DUM! – I still broke the damn ray in the same exact spot. In addition, it got inexplicably misaligned!

To correct the break and the left tilt, I adjusted the technique Michael showed me; I took care to stretch the metal more along the left edge of the ray, as this pointed it back toward the right. (I admit that I learnt this best while slaving on that hyperbolic paraboloid. And that it feels pretty awesome to have the skill to fix a break like that).

Once fixed and sanded to a flat bottom, the sun disk revealed another issue – in dapping the dome deeper, I had also made the sun design oval. Eek! I hope I can remedy this by filing the ray ends rounder.

Also, a thing to try out in the future – FIRST dome the disk, THEN pierce out the shape? Maybe that’s doable, and would keep the metal structurally sound during forming.

Deadly Cute Bezel for the Moonstone

*Boasting Warning* I totally conquered making a bezel for the moonstone cabochon. It rocked, I rocked, let me make five more!

I formed the bezel wall with a strip of silver that was taller than the stone. To make it functional, I needed to cut it down to 4mm. One approach would have been to sand the wall shorter, either on a sanding belt or just some coarse sanding paper. A way cooler approach was to just… saw it in half. Wait wait, you say, won’t the sawing alter the shape of the bezel? And how will you even hold such a tiny thing steady while sawing?

Ta-DA!! You use a wooden rod for support! (*Blissful sigh*. Don’t know about you, but that answer totally blew my mind).

And look at how tiny and cute the resulting bezel is! It’s so round! And shiny! Since this project called for an open backed bezel, I pierced out most of the bottom with a jeweler’s saw and then used a diamond burr attachment on the flex shaft to smooth out a round shape. I then used shears to remove the majority of the square edges; shaved down the irregularities using a cuttle sanding disk; and finished the outside with s fine needle file.

I basically love it – it’s my first small bezel and it’s beautiful. I am soo excited to work it into the domed sun disk!

Jewelry Fabrication: Quartz Kelp Pendant, Part 4

My Kelp Pendant project is experiencing scope creep – the more I work on it, the more complicated and never-ending it feels.  Partially, this is because every bit of it is a learning experience.  Each completed step brings up a twist I couldn’t anticipate.  And partially, this is because Michael has different goals for the class than I.  I’d be cool with using this project exclusively as a trial for various techniques.  In fact, that’s my preferred approach for the whole course – I’m treating it as an opportunity to introduce myself to a bunch of metalworking skills while under adult supervision.  I mean, it’s also a way to maintain motivation through instances of failure (if I aim to create shiny perfect pieces, then it becomes REALLY tempting to hurl hammers when I accidentally break something I’ve spent days building).

Latest pendant state – still a while to go

Michael, on the other hand… Michael believes in a fully finished wearable product. Not necessarily perfect or even neat, but finished. As an artist, I fully support this; the only way to get better at producing completed work is by… completing all your work. As a student, however, I find it a royal pain. A discouraging and exhausting pain of discovering that despite all the work you just did, this still needs fixing, and that needs adding, and this third thing totally needs thinking on – so maybe another 6 hours of sweat, and THEN you’ll be done.

So that’s where I am with the Kelp Pendant in real time – emotionally depleted, and taking a break to explore anticlastic raising. But since this blog documents my progress with a couple weeks worth of delay, here is the latest of my GREAT Quartz Kelp Pendant ADVENTURE! *said in exaggerated booming voice*

Step bezel fitted and soldered, shown from the back

After several annealing and burnishing attempts, I fitted the outer and inner step bezels and soldered them shut. It was important to fit them so that the individual seams opposed each other, as this lends strength to the structure.

In the photo on the left, I have already used shears to cut off the excess of the step on the bottom of the bezel. It was necessary for the step to protrude during soldering as it let me place solder from the outside – which allows for better visibility and control.

Stone fitted in bezel, shown from top

An important aspect of fitting the bezels to each other and the quartz cabochon: always fit the stone to the metal in the same direction. This makes enormous sense, of course, as the stone isn’t a perfect oval, and the bezel won’t hold it unless it is a tight fit. The only problem getting there is keeping track of which side is which. Michael advised using a permanent marker to note where the stone touches the outer seam – and this mostly succeeded. The permanent marker came off easily during fittings, but reapplying it felt simpler than distinguishing the sides by the stone’s inclusions.

Polishing the bottom of the bezel to make the step and outer bezel rim even

Sanded from the top; View of bezel from inside, the step very visible.

Before fitting the bezel to pendant, I needed to file/sand it until the top and bottom were flat and parallel, and the height of the bezel at its ideal for the piece. Since I’m still afraid of sand-belts, I used my favorite method for getting smooth surfaces – whooshy repetitive motions across 80-100 grit sandpaper.

A surprise challenge: accurately estimating how the bezel will fit into the pendant when the surface you’re marking on is TILTED. I couldn’t. I decided to guesstimate, assume the worst, and then bravely saw out the half-oval to my potential doom.

Pendant marked for sawing

The bottom bravely sawed out

Eh! It could have been worse. Even though the cut-out line wasn’t a clean fit to the bezel, I was able to improve the fit by filing off bits of the pendant, and burnishing parts of the bezel. Specifically, the attack plan was this: mark areas where the bezel touched the cut-out – these are the spaces preventing the bezel from fully fitting into the cut-out. Sand those off. Refit, repeat. Try not to destroy it all.

Fitting the bezel to the pendant

But minor destruction is what makes it fun! Right? Right?!! At least that’s what I tried to convince myself when I tried too hard and generously filed off the pendant edge (which suddenly rendered the bezel free floating). While I was panicking, Michael corrected my mistake by annealing the pendant and tapping on the offending edge until it once again hugged the bezel. Then just as Michael stepped away, I, overwhelmed with relief, filed off too much closer to the center of the cut-off arc, leaving this nice wavy gap. I was too embarrassed to admit this faux-pas publicly, and managed to close it myself when soldering the bezel and the pendant together (by applying solder over and over and over to that gap. This led to its own problems, as you’ll see in a minute).

Here are some tools I used to perfect the fit of the bezel and the pendant. From left to right: burnisher for stone setting; chasing hammer; flex shaft with a sanding disk; permanent sharpie; scribe for marking.

Tools used for bezel fitting

Sanding tool perfection

Shameless tool promotion: I really dig these sanding disks. They’re small, flexible, and work great for small sanding jobs. They come in two sanding materials: adalox and cuttle; each of those comes in small, medium and high coarseness.

They are apparently produced by E.C. Moore Company, and can be stealthily purchased from Michael’s tool stash, or on Amazon.

 

Bezel and Pendant ready for merging, I came across the dilemma of holding the two parts flush together while soldering. Apparently, there is no need for such struggle. Instead, Michael suggested that I “tack on” the two together at the edges of the pendant with tiny amounts of solder. That way, the pieces will hold as one, and I would still be able to burnish to bezel wall for a tighter fit, or hammer the pendant to lie in the same plane as the bezel.

Of course, there was still the issue of that wavy gap I created with over-ardent filing. (You can see it on the left photo, at the bottom edge of the pendant. And then, on the photo on the right, you can also see the pool of solder I applied in that area to close the gap).

Bezel and pendant “tacked on”

Pool of solder at the ex-gap

Here, I really almost did destroy the piece.

To close the gap, I basically re-soldered the piece multiple times. I’d add solder, reheat the piece until solder melted, pickle-neutralize-quench it, check the gap – and sigh when it remained visible. So I’d do it again – completely forgetting that every time I heated the piece to the point of solder melting, ALL the solder would be flowing (including the solder in the bezel, and in the seams of the pendant face and lining). I also didn’t realize that solder flowed TOWARD heat – and that by heating the piece from the same location over and over, I was basically sucking all the solder towards it.

New gaps in bezel after extensive soldering

The result of my mistake can be best seen in this shot of the step bezel. The distribution of solder on top of the step bezel is all wonky: the left curve sports a visible disjoint; the right curve is flooded with solder and basically looks silver. Most disappointingly, the opposing seams, located at 12pm & 6pm of the bezel, both developed tiny dark gaps. Michael tells me the bezel is still completely structurally sound, but… it used to be so much prettier!!

 

Lesson Learned: Exercise heat control! And frakking plan the application of solder in a feasible progression ahead of time.

As I lamented earlier, there’s still a while until this piece is fully completed. There’s still the bail, to design and execute and solder on. There’s also the actual experience of folding the bezel over the quartz. Most dauntingly, Michael thinks that the inner step of the bezel needs to be raised, so that the stone sits higher in comparison to the face of the pendant, and thus stays visually dominant.

And I think… that these are all significant elements, essential to the overall feel of the piece. I’d like to do a good job on them. And I feel that if I tackled them right now, it would be a half-assed and half-hearted effort. So I will come back to this endeavor, perhaps by mid-summer. Meanwhile, anticlasting  – here I come!