Artist

Traver Gallery in Seattle, Washington, shows a large variety of artwork, including painting, glass, and ceramics. Nancy Worden is the only gallery artist who has consistently worked in a wearable medium, but she stands out as one of the most successful. In 2009, Nancy’s work was the subject of a solo exhibition at the Tacoma Art Museum called Loud Bones: The Jewelry of Nancy Worden, and was accompanied by a catalog. Nancy has been contributing to the art community in the Pacific Northwest for many years, and it is always interesting to see what she has been thinking about.

Susan Cummins: Why did you choose the title Smiling Faces?

Nancy Worden: A few years ago, my cousin was visiting and we were looking at old family photo albums. She made a comment about a group picture from the early 1970s of herself, her parents, and her siblings. Everyone in the picture was dressed up and smiling, but my cousin’s remark was, “I was SO miserable that day.”

People will smile for a camera because that is what is expected of them, regardless of how they’re feeling at that moment. I’m interested in the stories behind the smiles.

Felix Flurry owns two galleries—one in Solothurn, Switzerland, and the other in London, England. The AJF interview with him is in our collection of dealer interviews. This month in his London gallery, Flurry is showing the imaginative Portuguese artist Manuel Vilhena. This jeweler studied in many places and with a number of well-known teachers, and he has come up with a very personal and very intimate way of being a jeweler. See if you agree as we discuss his show Miss Amelia & 1001 Rings.

Susan Cummins: As I understand it, there are two parts to this show. Is that correct, and can you describe the two parts?

Manuel Vilhena: Yes. One part is Miss Amelia, a story about a girl in strange and curious lands. The story develops over a period of seven days and is basically a voyage. During this voyage, Amelia meets many people and has conversations with them. (Within these conversations lie my working philosophical principles.) This story gave rise to jewels that represent characters in the plot, and subsequently, the jewels themselves created deviations and new pathways for the story to unfold. As such, the jewels and story created each other.

Gallery Lulo in Healdsburg, California, is a collaborative effort between artist Karen Gilbert and Anne-Katherine Schjerbeck. Their gallery has grown in the past three years, and recently they opened an additional space. This month’s show Re:Work Sculpture and Accessory is the first one in the new space and features the dexterous artist Emily Bixler. It has been interesting to observe the blurring of the lines between disciplines in contemporary jewelry, and this show is an excellent example of it.

Susan Cummins: Your work is a blur of sculpture, craft, fiber, and jewelry. Would you explain your educational background?

Emily Bixler: I entered Pacific Northwest College of Art (Portland, Oregon) as a painter but quickly shifted focus after my first welding class. Form and the placement of objects in space mesmerized me. I started experimenting with installation and the way an entire room creates a composition. Sculpture opened up a whole world of materials and textures as well. The school I attended did not have a proper fiber department, however, so I would lug my sewing machine around with me to class. Post college I had several jobs that I sought out as opportunities to explore methods of craft—working in the knitwear industry, as a milliner’s assistant, seamstress, and jewelry designer.

Given the recent political juggernaut in the USA, it is only fitting that we consider what is going on in another part of the world. This time it is Thailand.

The AJF’s ATTA Gallery is in Bangkok, and Taweesak Molsawat is the artist who is questioning the politics of his country with a show called The Missing Elements of Democracy: Art Jewelry as a Political Critic. This is an excellent example of an exhibition that attempts to use jewelry to political and critical effect. See if you think it succeeds.

Susan Cummins: Taweesak, would you describe some of the missing elements of democracy in Thailand?

Taweesak Molsawat: The word democracy originates from the Greek δημοκρατία (dēmokratía) or ‘rule of the people.’ This is the direct democracy system. The core concept of modern democracy is ‘government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth’—this is indirect democracy. This concept has not worked as it is supposed to in today’s political system in Thailand. There are many significant factors that cause problems, but this body of work focuses on two elements: the politicians and the people (citizens of Thailand). These two elements—the real representation of the people and an understanding of the true concept of a democratic electoral system—have been missing in Thai government. The politicians are not representatives of the people, and democracy is not just a vote for personal gain.

Stefan Friedemann and Laura Lapachin, owners of Ornamentum Gallery in Hudson, New York, trained as metalsmiths in Pforzheim, Germany. It was there they met fellow student Sam Tho Duong. Now these many years later, the three are still connected—one is an exceptional artist and two run an exceptional gallery.

Sam Tho Duong has developed a very clever way of using yogurt containers to make elegant necklaces with surprising variations. His show is called lemitcA, and no I didn’t make a mistake with the name. All the images in this article are of the same piece—how fascinating is that?

You can find the story of how Ornamentum Gallery came into being, Stefan and Laura’s thinking about the jewelry market, and their favorite pieces on our website.

Susan Cummins: Sam, for a number of years you were working on a series called Frozen, which consisted of necklaces and brooches with branch-like forms covered in tiny pearls. This new work looks entirely different. Can you tell us how you started working on it?

April Higashi’s Shibumi Gallery, in Berkeley, California, is having a wonderful show by Japanese artist Liisa Hashimoto. The installation of the show is very energetic and imaginative, like a playground.

Susan Cummins: I understand that you live in Osaka, Japan, but went to school to learn metalsmithing in America. Is that correct, and if so, can you tell me who you studied with and where?

Liisa Hashimoto: Yes, I live in Osaka now. I have my studio here, too. After graduating from high school, I went to America and learned metalsmithing under Ms. Yoshiko Yamamoto at the School of the Museum of Fine Arts in Boston, Massachusetts.

This month Gallery Loupe is celebrating a birthday date.  Both Thomas Gentille and Peter Skubic were born on August 11 and so the gallery has paired them for the show Birthday Boys.  I have separated the interviews into two parts, so each artist can have his say – as brief as they are. This is part 2.

Susan Cummins: Although you were born in Yugoslavia, you have spent most of your life in Austria. Someone once told me that Austrian jewelers believe in fairytales. Do you think that is true?

Peter Skubic: No, only when they go to Hanau where the brothers Grimm were born . . . said Helen Drutt.

You have taught at a number of schools. Can you give me an example of an assignment that really challenged your students?

I always challenge my students. It is central to my teaching.

Were you trained as a goldsmith?

I was never trained as a goldsmith. I learned it by myself. I was trained as an engraver in FACHSCHULE IN STEYR.

This month Gallery Loupe is celebrating a birthday date. Both Thomas Gentille and Peter Skubic were born on August 11 and so the gallery has paired them for the show Birthday Boys. In the contemporary jewelry world these two artists are well known, well collected and are respected for their pioneering work. Eileen David and Patti Bleicher, the owners of Loupe, said that they are interested in showing the work of historically significant artists to help put all the other jewelry they show in context from time to time. I have separated the interviews into two parts, so each artist can have his say – as brief as they are.

Susan Cummins: Thomas, you have a reputation as a perfectionist. Do you see yourself as such?

Thomas Gentille: No, I don’t.

Galerie Ra in Amsterdam was an early champion of contemporary jewelry. It was established in 1976 by Paul Derrez, a jeweler and legendary visionary. Paul continues to run his gallery and this month we catch an exhibition there of the work of Johanna Dahm. She is doing the same rings as she has for a long time but with Enhancements, which is the title of the show.

Susan Cummins: You have probably answered this question many times, so I have to request your patience, but you are known for making rings using a casting technique acquired from the African Ashanti and Indian Dokra. Can you please talk about that process?

Johanna Dahm: Compared to other lost-wax casting methods around the world, theirs is unique and genius. Both cultures, living so far apart, not even aware of each other, share a process aptly described as casting in a closed cycle. Yes, the wax model is lost after it has been encased in clay and melted out, yet is still there in its negative. This shell is joined with a layer of clay to the crucible containing the metal, looking like a Babushka. An old oil barrel serves as a furnace, like those of the Ashanti. I love the 1100-degree heat and the smell of glowing bright yellow coal. With long tongs the glowing forms are pulled out of the furnace and merely flipped upside down for casting. This is the closed cycle technique, everything mysteriously hidden to the eye, no separate melting and pouring of the metal. The most exciting part is cracking open the form. Has the piece been cast successfully, or is everything lost? This closed cycle process has great advantage, but as usual only if mastered. Lost and Found: The Ashanti Trail to Rings was thus the title of my first book.

Karl Fritsch, the prolific, original jeweler is having a show at Galerie Rosemarie Jaeger in Hochheim, a little town outside of Frankfurt, Germany. It is a beautiful space as you will see in the installation shots and contrasts beautifully with Karl’s ‘misshapen’ jewelry.

Susan Cummins: Gerd Rothmann wrote about the bowl you created for this show by saying: ‘Out of this bar of gold Karl Fritsch has wrought, using a heavy hammer in a somewhat disrespectful (if not brutal, or in any case quite unsubtle) way, a somewhat misshapen looking bowl. It would seem that he went about doing this with the express desire to shatter any professional notion of aesthetics: the manner in which he mistreated the precious and venerated material was admirably cheeky.’ Your approach is disquieting. Why do you work this way?

Karl Fritsch: If I answer that question I can tell you the story of my life, or I can say I don’t know. I think the text from Gerd gives a answer and it is my ultimate pleasure and reason to make work like that, if somebody can engage with it in the way Gerd does. No bullshit! The bit of text you quote is taken from a longer text. It might help to read the whole text as it gives some ideas about answers.

‘(First you have to imagine one kilogram of pure 24 carat gold: its weight; its golden yellow lustre; its softness. Merchants used to bite on gold coins, testing if the gold was genuine on the basis of the indentation made by their teeth.