Carla M Fox Metalsmith

For years I have tossed around an idea of making a series. I like the idea of a defining set of parameters within which you design and execute your art. I think it leads to something new and wonderful, though I’m not sure what. And I like that “not-sure” part.

Poetry is full of tightly limited creations. The sonnet is a poem of 14 lines with a formal rhyme scheme, and usually 10 syllables per line.  There’s not a lot of leeway to branch out. Yet English literature is filled with amazing poetry in sonnet form. The Japanese haiku (a poem of 17 syllables, in 3 line, of 5, 7, and 5) with a nature theme is something all children have worked on in schools often with delightful results. And of course, limericks are a wonderful example of how rigid limits can push creativity and humor to new and glorious heights.

Throughout history visual artists have also used a set of rules to corral and then turn-loose their creative muse.

Monet had his hay stacks.

Jim Dine-a contemporary painter, has a series on bathrobes and hearts.

Recently a friend, painter-Marla Baggetta, completed a series of 100 images of the same scene. It was her series that reinspired me to again look at doing a series.

Craft artists have also done series.

Pat Flynn has done a series of heart pins.

And one of my favorite series is Kiff Slemmons, Insectopedia. A series of bug pins, based on the alphabet. K is for Katydid.

Carla

Normally this time of year I am in Portland, Oregon at the Local 14 Show & Sale. This year I am not. For all those who are concerned it is because of something bad I assure you it is not. It is because of something good! I had a terrific show at Art in the Pearl, in Portland. I have very little inventory left.

I had September to restock after Art in the Pearl, but September was booked with other business that kept me from my workbench. Also there was a trip to Peoria, Illinois for a show artist/director conference. I gave 2 presentations as well as learned a lot from my fellow directors. It was great fun.

Afterwards I hurried home to ship promised work off to a gallery in Austin, Texas: Art on 5th. Now I really have nothing left. My goal for the next month is to complete a bunch of commissions, enjoy Fall in Central Oregon, keep biking, and watch the snow fall in the mountains.

And a bit of random humor. Maybe my life in Central Oregon is sheltered. While traveling I encountered a vending machine that offered a wide selection of items that I had never seen before in a vending machine, together. I was going for the M & M peanuts.

Vending machine choices

Carla

If you like my aesthetic in jewelry you may be surprised by my beginnings. I am.

I was rummaging through my drawers the other day trying to figure out what was in them, as most of what I wear regularly was residing on the floor. Why is there no room in my dresser for my clothes?

What I found among many other things was some of my old jewelry from my youth, way before I made jewelry. Eclectic is a nice way to describe my tastes. My favorite watch was a Minnie Mouse (not Mickey) one that I bought in Disneyland. I had earrings with bells, and macrame bracelets, yet not one peace sign. Sigh.

But the thing that made me laugh was the very first piece of jewelry, a pendant that my Dad made for me. It was my pride and joy for many years and I even resurrected it for a party a few years ago.

My older sister’s boyfriend had gone to Hawaii for spring vacation. To show his love or at least to show he was thinking about her, he brought her back a little wooden tiki head on a leather cord. I don’t think she was too impressed, but being 5 years younger I coveted it. She let me hold it and even wear it for a while but then demanded it back.

That was not okay. She didn’t like it much, I LOVED it. I watch where she put it and went and stole it. And we were off to the races. After a few days of this my father got tired of the screaming and yelling. Neither daughter was going to give in. If my sister hid her tiki head, I tore her room apart until I found it, only to re-hide it in my room. She’d throw a fit (much to my delight) and demand it back.

Dad offered to make me my very own tiki head IF I would PLEASE leave my sister’s alone. I agreed. He had teak wood he had scavenged from the beaches of Hawaii during the war. It was off the decks of the military ships. It  had been removed dumped after Pearl Harbor to make them war ready and less flammable. (Or so I was told.)

Taking a chunk of the teak he carved me a tiki head and hung it on a leather cord. I loved it, wore it, treasured it. And eventually outgrew it, to bury in in the back of a drawer.

It made one more appearance in my life in the late 80’s. For unknown reasons I chose to wear it to a party. A drunk with far too many drinks in him came up to me grabbed it and hung on, asking, “What’s dis?” For once in my life I was fast of brain and mouth and replied, “My first husband.” He looked aghast and rumbled off. Here it is for you to enjoy, the start of my love affair with handmade jewelry. How I have evolved….or so we all hope.

Carla

Dave (the hubby) and I like to do things ourselves. Its a point of pride. We have an eclectic background of skills to bring to any task. We’ve been teachers, outdoor instructors, special ed director (Dave), parents, small business owners, community organizers. I have considerable skills behind a sewing machine, Dave carpenter skills, and a life time spent with a master gardener. What we don’t know we like to figure out.

Plus both Dave & I are artists; me a jeweler, him a glass tile person. I sell at shows, he works with architects, designers, contractors, & owners to make his custom tiles. He’s my sous chef in jewelry, I’m his sous chef in glass. And both are part of a wonderful group of artists and arts advocates producing a fine arts show, Art in the High Desert, in Bend Oregon. We figure out tough things all the time.

But, no matter how bold and brave, trained or experienced, inventive, sometimes it is best to NOT do it yourself.

With the help of some talented people we have created a new Fox Glassworks website to showcase Dave’s work.

Our fine children pushed us off this cliff by contracting with a favorite web designer and friend, Keith Buckley to put together a tease of what a new website might look like. Keith then went to work on us asking for photos and words and some idea of what we wanted the website to look like, how to navigate around it.

What looks so easy once done is in reality a series of interconnecting decisions. We struggled, we thought, we tabled it, and then our kids would remind us that they had a stake in getting it up. We could do this, we thought.

Then we had our best idea and we turned to more experts for help. The best decision of all.

Tom Hassler and his stylist Trisha spent a weekend with us photographing a variety of jobs scattered through-out Central Oregon. We added some of our fortunate shots from jobs out of the area burned them to a CD and faithfully sent to Keith. He still had questions. How was he to use them? What words did we want with them, where on the site should they go?

Oh. Wasn’t that all required of us? Pretty pictures and a great product. As good as Keith is, he couldn’t read our ultimate needs and intentions from our mass of photos. Ellen Santasiero proved to be just the person to help us, move beyond this. She writes the words for websites. Short, elegant, to the point, words. She sat down with us and asked many thoughtful questions to guide her words and ultimately the Fox Glassworks website. Her focus became our touchstone.

And so it went. Questions asked, answers struggled for, decisions slowly made. Ideas tried out, more photos taken, ideas considered refined or throw out. Friends finally got into the picture urging us to finish it as they were eager to see it up share with their clients. Thanks Martha.

Finally after several days of me learning way more about how domain names, dns numbers, and web host addresses work, I received a magic email from a very helpful tech and viola! Keith published the new website.

Check it out. If you find any boo-boos tell me. Its okay, we know we have a tweaks to do. But enjoy its’ elegant navigation, Dave’s wonderful tiles and installations, Ellen’s words, Keith’s web design, Tom’s photos, our kids kick in the pants. FoxGlassworks.com

Thanks to all who helped with this. You’re the best. Below are just a few of the glass projects Dave has worked on.

Carla

Arghhh.

Time’s short and I too busy. Two or so years ago some artists and art advocates in Bend decided that the West Coast in general and Bend in particular needed a really wonderful show. What’s more we realized we had all the skills to put one on. And so it started.

In 2 weeks the 2nd annual Art in the High Desert will come to Bend. Its a lotta work. We are an all-volunteer group.  Which makes it a bit crazy to work this hard. But we all agree that it is worth it. But today, for now, Arggghhh. Why do I have the good ideas I do? I’m way too busy. Our whole team is working hard, on their own art, and each of their show jobs.

Last year was our first year. We could have picked a more auspicious economy during which to start a show…but we like challenges. More important, the city of Bend, and central Oregon love fine art. They came out and bought last year, and they tell us they will be back again this year.

So while my life is filled with little details, final advertising pushes, (I even get to be interviewed on a local TV staiton) here are some images from last years show, taken by our photog Tom Hassler, aerial photograph by Matt Verdieck.  Enjoy the view, come and visit us this year. We have great artists coming again, don’t miss them.

Carla

Before a show I am focused, on task, getting things done. Today after the show I am bumping around trying to figure out what jobs I put down before I left I need to pick up first. They all seem to be important now.

I’m still halfway at the show, thinking about all that happened, seeing happy customers, reviewing things to change for the next show.

One thing I must say:

I must take back all the snarky remarks I have ever made about the parking lot structure that the Bellevue Museum art festival is in.  I LOVE IT! Its been whitewashed so it looks good, the funky lights have been replaced, but BEST OF ALL, when it got dreadfully hot outside it was quite tolerably cool inside. Since every one of my last 4 shows have had some sort of weather issue, I was delighted to be out of the elements. The Bellevue parking garage is the BEST!

Carla

Cool with no wind or rain

We’re getting ready for our “July” show. Itsa biggie and a favorite. We’ve tried to catch up on things left undone before the last show, arrange for house sitters, weed a bit, enjoy a glorious summer, and keep at work. But it is hard condensing life into time slots between shows.

We will head north this time to Bellevue, Washington for the Bellevue Museum Art Festival-or BAM-or the Garage Sale. It’s held in one of the more unfortunate venues, a shopping mall’s concrete parking structure. But it is shady and cool, and we are protected from rain and wind. The audience is an art-savvy interested group of buyers and are there to see and buy art. The artists are always first rate.

At Bellevue we will be showing with our dot,  Sarah, in the next booth. This will be a first, fun, endlessly entertaining, and a challenge. Sarah is our favorite daughter, our only one in fact, and came equipped with everything one wants in a daughter; other then that she’s younger, taller, thinner, and has the most outrageous hair. Her jewelry is very different from mine, reflecting her youthful and unique outlook on life.

Our son also lives in the area so it will be a family silly time, to bug each other, laugh, eat, help out, talk, listen….but I digress.

As Dave repeatedly has to tell me I will be there to sell jewelry. And in order to sell it I must first make it. I love being a jeweler, it’s home for me. But right now I wanna ride my bike, sit in my hammock chair, kayak, go for an early morn walk with our dog,  or write in my blog. Of course, if  I was told to ride my bike all day, I’d rather be walking the dog. If I was told to walk the dog I’d want to write in the blog all day. And if told to do nothing but write, I’d want to be making jewelry. I call it my “Grass is Greener” syndrome. If I hafta do it, whether I love it or not, suddenly I want to do something else. It’s a leftover from a contrary childhood.

So back to work for me. I have some great new work on the bench that needs finishing, some oldie but goodies that also need their final patinas and placing on the cards. Bellevue is going to be fun. But I must first work to earn it .

(And oh yeah, to Johanna, from Des Moines, who reads my  blog – even tho’ she’s not related to me, and likes it! Hi. It was great talking with you.)

Carla

What’s worse for an art show artist-a raging wind storm or torrential rains? I’m not sure. But last weekend at the Cherry Creek Art Festival in Denver, we had the opportunity to deal with the rain.

Our daughter, Sarah, was in the Cherry Creek festival. So on the way home from Des Moines, we stopped in Denver to help her set up her booth, and I stayed on as her assistant while Dave flew home to the dogs and our other life.

Fortunately he hung around for Friday of the show. We needed all hands on deck. The Rockies are known for their afternoon thunder storms, so we weren’t too concerned as the dark clouds rolled in, nor even when show staff came to warn us that a rain and thunder storm would hit in 20 minutes. As per the show’s suggestion we had not set the tent in the gutter, the tent was a light dome and had weathered several storms with nary a leak, and we were Oregonians, we are the rain.

Be careful what you don’t worry about. Cherry Creek had a huge rainstorm on Friday. We were fortunate as the river/gutter we were by flowed on without overwhelming the booth. It came thorough the booth but we made an island of plastic boxes in the center, hiked up all the stuff we didn’t want wet and rode it out. Other artists were not so lucky. If their booth sat at the confluence of 2 drainage areas water rose a foot in their boothes. Some art was lost. One artist’s tool box floated 2 blocks away. It was eventually returned by another artist.

And so it goes. Life in a 10′ x 10′ retail space….

A man stood studying our jewelry and displays. “Does the show provide you with all this?”

Nope, each artist brings their own full 10′ x 10′ retail store to each show. And what they bring is as individual as their art. Some fly in and ship their booth and inventory ahead. Their booths tend towards the minimalist. Others come in large sprinter vans, trucks, vans pulling trailers. What is unloaded from those would put many circuses to shame. I always think this is the most fascinating time of a show, watching the various booths be put together tinker-toy style, until VOILA! a retail spot.

The Des Moines Art Festival has a leisurely set-up day. This is good. It was in the 90′s with lots of humidity. It was brutal work. Everyone moved at half speed with lots of stops for brow wiping, drinking, and dirty glances at the sun. I got a little cranky, unloading the van,  putting up the canopy, setting up the display. The ever-cheerful and nothing-bothers-him hubby, kept at it saying it was fine, good for the soul and other such nonsense. Only after I threatened to kill him did he slow up his happy chatter. When one is miserable, one does not need happiness. We set-up the big stuff before I finally said “uncle” as we retreated to a cool hotel room. We went back to work some more after the sun had gone down & finished up the next morning.

The mother of invention being a weekend of intolerable heat, I came up with an idea for a swamp cooler in our booth. My brilliant idea?

So clever, so cool, but does it work.....?

A pan of ice sitting in front of a fan. Ignoring the fact that humidity renders a swamp cooler moot, it was sorta like spitting in the wind. But it made me feel like I had some control of my environment. Dave, the hubby, played along, “Yes, dear it DOES feel cooler in the tent.”

The transition between being a solitary studio artist to a meet-and-greet retail sales person, is always a little rocky for me. I’ve had my head down nose to the file in the studio making pieces…..now its time to show them. It usually takes 1/2 day for me to get my talker going. Some of the most amazing non-sequiturs come out of me in the early stages of each show. Its as if I have forgotten how to talk while working in the studio. Our daughter calls them my “spoonerisms.” I have told customers, “If I can ask any questions, let me know and I will ankwer them.” Huh?

I like doing shows, I like seeing peoples reaction to my work. I just wish I could be more suave about it. The Des Moinians were patient with my first attempts. And as the weekend proceeded the weather cooled (sorta) and my talker came on line.

Like everyone else I sometimes have a hard time getting focused and getting going. Life happens and when your work is in your home, life interferes with work. I’m a great believer in my ability to multi-task, but sometimes it just leads to me bouncing around like a ping-pong ball getting a little done.

Metalsmithing requires focus and attention to details. A casual moment can undo hours of work as an over-heated piece falls apart (or melts!) under a too hot torch, a careless saw cuts a kerf into a carefully etched surface, a sanding disc is allowed to go too far.

When I get to this place I need to stop trying to do many things at once and refocus. As I retreat to my studio and sit at my bench more often then not, my thinking is still scattered  and I have no idea where to start. Things seem either too easy and simple or too complex to work on until I get my brain working. What to do?

I recently decided that the best thing I can do at this point is to start making box clasps. Technically box clasps are fairly difficult, but I’ve done enough to be fluent in them. I know each step, how to do it, what order to do them in. Making them challenges my skills as a metalsmith, with the precision, cutting, soldering, measuring, filing; but I know what to do and have no questions as to sequencing, what temperature solder I need, what the pitfalls are. Making box clasps brings me back together and centers me on the here and now.

All the intricacy and detailed labor of the box clasp is hidden on the inside. My version of the clasp is actually a box within a box. I was taught to make a tight precise fit to insure years of trouble free wearing. It is more time-consuming but ultimately produces a clasp that will last indefinitely and never release unexpectedly. It makes me proud every time I sell one as I know its a special item with a great deal of my efforts and thought put into each clasp.

Below is the very condensed version of the making of a box clasp plus a peek at its inner workings.

1. The inner box is made & a slot carefully filled to accept the tongue of the clasp.

2. The tongue with the trigger is soldered and carefully filed and fitted to the box.

3. The etched sterling top deck is soldered in place and a the slot for the trigger is pierced & filed into a tight fit. This photo shows the box within a box, part of this clasp.

4. Once the bottom plate is added the tongue continues to get refined so it has the pleasing and important “CLICK” when it is fully engaged. Then the findings are soldered on, it is thoroughly cleaned, and is ready to be patinaed and added to a necklace.

5. Finally the clasp becomes the central part of a necklace. In this case a rough cut carnelian necklace with yellow turquoise. Its ready to go to a client.