So Monday mornings have been officially set aside as my blog time, barring illness and/or "nothing good to say today grump grump" days.
The shibuichi poured perfectly, one pour radiating outward like coral... so I have decided I am going to use it for my first ambitious, Rio-Grande-catalogue-esque PMC piece. Shibuichi, sterling, PMC with moonstones fired in place. It will either be amazing or it will be a hot fractured mess. No risk, no reward, eh? Besides, there's always Jack to fall back on if it goes horribly wrong (Mr. Daniels to you, please.).
My favorite apprenticing jeweller was absolutely fearless. He would size large and irreplaceable stone-set rings without qualm (stone-in! GAH!), put thousand dollar silver spoons in my hands to polish on the wheel (which could, at any time, catch hold of the enormous piece of silver and send it spinning off into oblivion)... I mean, this man had the proverbial balls of solid granite. He was amazing, and the closest to me in terms of creative style and attack.
The creation process for me is always blood and fire and Nero fiddling and Sturm und Drang and Valkyries flying overhead and O Fortuna playing in the background and hammer hitting steel (and occasionally, me). I am the exact antithesis of those amazing artists who create precise, pristine geometric pieces. I look at their work with admiration and respect, because it is so far from my element, but it is not a style that comes naturally to me.
I take risks. All of my work involves some element that is, at the beginning, just a greycat whisker beyond my ability. By the end of the piece, I've either learned how to do something new or I go back to the beginning and try again with a different approach.
My jewellery is... dangerous. Mostly to me. :) And I like it that way.