Maya Kini: Silk

An Interview by Susan Cummins for Art Jewelry Forum

01 March 2013

Jeweler April Higashi runs Shibumi Gallery in Berkeley, California. She shows mainly local jewelers and American jewelers who make well-designed, wearable work. Her gallery is located in a retail/manufacturing area, and her living quarters are right above the gallery. It is a wonderful space. April has discovered a lovely maker named Maya Kini,who is having her first full-scale solo show, Silk, at the gallery. Maya brings a complex background to her work.

Susan Cummins: Maya, can you tell me about your background? Your place of origin? Your schooling? How you became a jeweler?

Maya Kini: I was born and raised in the Boston area, the fourth of five children by parents from vastly different worlds. My mother is Italian American from New England, and my father emigrated from India in 1957 to get his PhD. He decided to stay in the US after meeting my mother. From a young age, I was given jewelry by visiting Indian relatives—bangles, anklets, and fine gold chains. Adornment begins at a young age in India and evolves into a complex language of beauty, wealth, and status.

I studied sculpture and literature at Reed College and eventually wrote my thesis on the translation of Catholicism and its earliest dispersion into New Spain. I received my degree in Spanish literature in 2000. In 1996, I was introduced to jewelry making in Mexico, and that seed developed into further study, apprenticeships with other jewelers, and eventually an MFA in metalsmithing from Cranbrook Academy of Art. I received my degree in 2007 under the guidance of Gary Griffin (2005–2006) and Iris Eichenberg (2006–2007). Currently, I operate my own small studio that focuses on commissions, multiples, and one-of-a-kind pieces.

I love the relationship between jeweler and patron—this sustained tradition of knowing where a piece of jewelry comes from and whose hands have crafted it. There are few objects with which we adorn ourselves that allude to both ritual and beauty. Jewelry has captured this unique place.

As an instructor at the University of California–Davis Craft Center, can you talk about the program and give us an example of a project you like to assign to your students?

Maya Kini: My husband and I moved to Sacramento in 2007. He is the director of a housing-policy organization, so proximity to the capital is important. I wanted to stay involved in the jewelry world and discovered the UC Davis Craft Center in 2008, after our daughter was born. It is a laidback place, separate from the art department and accessible to the students and staff at UC Davis and to the greater community. I have a wide range of students, from geneticists to ecologists to artists. The Craft Center offers the usual assortment of applied arts with some great access to glass fusing, casting, lampworking, blacksmithing, and furniture making. I teach lost-wax casting. Typically we begin by carving rings and creating texture. I try to introduce students to the advantages of casting for creating complex surfaces, incorporating found objects, and tempting serendipity—letting go of one’s original intention and discovering the potency of the mistake. Beginning casting is a particularly good medium to illuminate this aspect of of making. 

There seem to be three elements that contribute to your exhibition. Can you describe the role of silk, of cast metal, and of the story that goes with it?

Maya Kini: This show developed out of my thesis work at Cranbrook and a series of objects my Indian grandmother carried with her in her purse. There were mundane objects—dentures, bobby pins, and handkerchiefs—and also ornate gold jewelry. Essentially, she had all of the jewelry she owned in her purse at the time of her death. I imagined what an archaeologist might do with such an archive, and so I studied it, cataloged it, and eventually wrote a series of short stories based on these objects. I then attempted to develop a language based on these cataloged objects to make jewelry. While the resulting pieces were largely unsuccessful, that was the first time I cast silk, and I fell in love with the texture and the process of casting. I decided then to focus on the silk and its translation into metal. In that process, I discovered the palette, textures, and forms that I had been looking for. 

How did the idea for this show develop?

Maya Kini: We visited India in 2009–my first visit there as an adult. We went to a government silk factory where the workers take the silk through the entire process, from boiling the cocoons to spinning the thread, dying the thread, weaving the silks, and embellishing them with the zari (metallic thread). While on that trip, my aunt gave me a pile of saris woven in the Indian city of Benares in the 1960s. The saris were made of silk georgette with silver embroidery. They had belonged to my grandmother, but the silk was now so fragile that they could not be worn without tearing.

The saris sat in my studio until I had the idea to cut out small sections with the silver embroidery, back them with wax, and take them through the lost-wax process. The resulting pieces often emerged looking more moth-eaten than when they had gone into the molds. But, I found that the silver woven into the original sari material did not burn out in the mold. Instead, it became embedded into the casting. This was a lovely discovery, for it meant that there was part of the original cloth in the new casting. It fell in line with how I think about the process of casting in general, which is a way to generate something imperfectly related to the original rather than a perfect copy. 

The sculptor Rachel Whiteread (who uses casting to illuminate the space between things, or the space we don’t often consider) says this of the process of casting:

A cast of an object traps it in time, eventually displaying two histories–its own past and the past of the object it replicates. The perfect expression of this is the death mask. It captures all the physical accretions of the human face soon after that face has completed its living existence but before rigor mortis accelerates it towards disintegration. It remains in the world to remind us of the dead as both portrait and memorial, a replica of an object in its own right. 

For me, the silk is material—strong, soft, and lavish. The metal is a neutral space where the texture and embellishments on the silk can come alive and be preserved, and the story relates these materials back to the people they will outlive. 

Are you expressing the “cycle of generation, decay, and transformation” as the gallery press release states? Explain.

Maya Kini: There is one piece in the show calledRegeneration made from a slab of bone with all of these bits of metal that were made by pouring molten metal into water. The metal bits appear to be growing out of the bone like lichen. That piece may be the most succinct at expressing a cycle of generation, decay, and transformation. My general perception of material, especially metal, is that it is not static. Why do we work with metal? Perhaps, ultimately, because it is a sustainable material. And what does that mean? That we are always beginning in the middle, starting a new piece with the scraps of another, stringing together shards of many works to make a new thing. It is with this absurd hope that the things we make might persevere that our hands stay busy, skirting the edge of the scrap yard, the rim of the crucible. 

Can we as humans connect with the life of an object? Explain.

Maya Kini: I love this last question. In my studio, I have a poem by Jorge Luis Borges called “To a Coin.” In it, he describes throwing a coin from the deck of a ship, imagining the unconscious but parallel destiny of the coin alongside his own:

…I felt I had committed an irrevocable act,

Adding to the planet

Two endless series parallel, possibly infinite;

My own destiny, formed from anxieties, love and futile upsets

And that of that metal disc

Carried away by the water to the quiet depths…

We exist alongside all of these objects that will define us in our deaths—the things we wear, the things we carry in our purses, our books, our music, our art. We are intimately connected until we die, and then the objects go on. They connect to another person, develop new meaning, new significance. For me, it is difficult to imagine the things I have collected existing beyond my own lifetime, and yet, as a metalsmith, I know that they will. Like Borges in his poem, I have a little bit of envy and a little bit of remorse for the unconsciousness and the longevity of objects.

Thank you. That was a lovely ending. 

Link to Art Jewelry Forum Article and more info this organization. 

Liisa Hashimoto: Light Fiction

An interview by Susan Cummins for the Art Jewelry Forum 

05 November 2012

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. 
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.
 

Would you tell the backstory of how you got a show at Shibumi Gallery in Berkeley, California?
Liisa Hashimoto: Donna Briskin, an early board chair and longtime member of AJF, is an art collector who lives in Berkeley, California. She found my name through Klimt02 and visited my studio while in Japan two years ago. Last year, she came back to my studio with a travel group from the Art Guild of the Oakland Museum of California. She showed my works to April Higashi, owner of Shibumi Gallery, and she gave me a chance to exhibit.
What is the contemporary jewelry scene like in Japan? Please talk about the main schools and galleries in Japan as well as how the Japanese people respond to the work. 
Liisa Hashimoto: Contemporary jewelry is not too popular here in Japan as it is in America or in Europe. There are not too many galleries or shops that carry contemporary jewelry in Japan. I think that we Japanese are short and small compared to Western people, so we prefer smaller jewelry that is not too big or striking. Many people prefer jewelry that has brand names or real stones. Many of them enjoy looking at the contemporary jewelry, but only a few are eager to buy and wear it.
Probably the most well known school for jewelry making in Japan is Hiko Mizuno College of Jewelry. The school has locations in both Tokyo and Osaka. The Tokyo school was established more than twenty years ago. The Osaka school was opened in 2008 and is still quite new. Hiko Mizuno is connected to many contemporary jewelers worldwide and has visiting artists who give lectures in the schools. Many contemporary jewelers in Japan are graduates from Hiko Mizuno.

Unfortunately, there are few well-known galleries in Japan—gallery deux poissons in Tokyo, Gallery C.A.J. in Kyoto, and Toi in Osaka. I am sorry to say that there are no other good galleries for contemporary jewelry in Osaka.
 You have called the show Light Fiction. Why?

Actually, April Higashi chose the name, and this is what she says about it:

‘The show pairs the work of jewelry artist Liisa Hashimoto and the design studio of Anzfer Farms (Jonathan Anzalone and Joseph Ferriso). I chose the name Light Fiction because I felt the work created by all the artists in this show share the similar sensibilities of lightness, elegance, and playfulness found in nature. Observing manmade objects that have been left outdoors and the playful way nature integrates and embraces them over time inspires Liisa’s jewelry. Anzfer Farms uses reclaimed and found pieces of wood to create elegant yet unassuming sculptural lights and objects. I felt autumn, with its changes of colors and light, was the perfect season to show these artists. Their works embody the transformations of nature, the changing luminosity, and the temporal elegance of materials.”

The installation includes wire props to hold each piece. It gives an animated feeling, like a Calder circus or a large playground. What were you thinking about when you planned this?
Liisa Hashimoto: My installation was inspired by Calder’s Circus and his mobiles. Alexander Calder is one of my favorite artists! And for the show Light Fiction, my personal theme was ‘to the open air.’ As you wrote, I wanted to express the playground outside, coming out from the house. So, I made some of my pieces movable with brass wires to show them like a jungle gym. And most of all, I wanted to show the shadows through the installation. The shadows were important to think about, especially since having the chance to exhibit with Anzfer Farms, a lighting designer.

f you were to invite some well-known jewelers to visit your studio, who would they be?
Liisa Hashimoto: There are so many jewelers that I admire, but if I could only invite one I would like to ask Mari Ishikawa, a well known Japanese jeweler living in Munich, Germany. Her works are all beautifully inspired by nature with the background of Japanese culture—the colors, shapes, etc. I get inspiration from nature and natural things myself, so Mari’s works stimulate me a lot. Fortunately, I had the chance to attend her slide lecture in Osaka this year. Her personality is also very nice, and I can see her strength and sensitivity toward her work, too. But, I did not have a chance to invite her to my studio. So next time if I have a chance, I would like Mari Ishikawa to visit my studio.
Thank you.

Link to Art Jewelry Forum Article and more info this organization. 

Singular, Organic, Illuminated: Conversations With Anzfer Farms

interview by Elka Karl

                                                          photo: Jonpaul Douglass

While Anzfer Farms, the experimental design workshop founded by Jonathan Anzalone and Joseph Ferriso, now calls the Outer Richmond district of San Francisco home, its original location was a bit more rural. Bucolic, one might even say. Back in 2009, the workshop was located in a tumbling-down cattle barn on a ranch near Port Costa, CA.

“We were basically squatting in a barn where the roof had somewhat collapsed, and the farmer had to keep it boarded up to keep the cows out. I lifted up the roof but kept the boards as they were,” explains John.

“We had a straw floor,” Joe says.

Adding the word Farms to Anzfer — a mashup of the duo’s last names — seemed fitting, given the workshop’s original location and its mission. “We didn’t know what we’d be making. It wasn’t lighting so much then as it was experimental furniture. We liked the idea of being able to go in any direction,” Jon notes.

“And ‘Farms‘ has that quality to it,” interjects Joe.

“The idea of ‘something’s going to grow here.’” finishes Jon.

That the duo finishes each other’s sentences, helping to shape and grow the trajectory of a conversation, should come as no surprise, given Jon and Joe’s design process. In no small part are Anzfer Farms’s lighting designs a direct reflection of Jon and Joe’s personal relationship. Each light is a bespoke testament to Anzfer Farms’s dedication to slow design, to listening to what each piece has to say, and how it needs to be sculpted and transformed.
 

“People are excited about the lamps, but it doesn’t seem like something we could scale huge. Each work is an intimate work, there’s no real production,” Joe explains. “Even for the show [at Shibumi], we were busy making each lamp over a process of weeks, months, of gathering material. We’re excited the attention is there, but it’s not something we could duplicate. Every one is unique. We’re still making one-of-a-kind sculptural pieces.”

“We can’t hire someone to make them,” says Jon. “Drilling is such a big part of it. Proportions, balance, it’s quite sensitive. I could say, ‘Joe, I found this branch, wire it,’ and I know I’d be satisfied. But there’s no one else I could have do that.”

“We’re trusting each other,” Joe says. “Rarely are we making a lamp on our own.”

The two have a long personal history, having grown up together in the same small town in Long Island. They’ve been collaborating on and off over the years since middle school, and are both painters by training. Anzfer Farms was founded on less-than-a-shoestring budget after the two separately moved to San Francisco. In fact, the lack of budget was the genesis for the organic, sculptural lamps the two have become known for.

“When Joe and I started working together we had no budget to buy materials. In this area there’s an abundance of high quality materials, redwood for example. A lot of this old growth material is very stable, it behaves really well, it’s acclimated to this environment, so it’s a pleasure to work with,” explains Jon. “It doesn’t warp, twist, crack . . . all of the things that could be problems with new materials. It also has an inherent previous life that comes through and I think all of that just adds to the starting point.”

Reclaimed timber led naturally to the use of driftwood, which the two would find washed up on the beaches near their home. Limiting the idea of reclaimed materials to something that had been already milled was counterintuitive to Anzfer Farms’s mission of discovery and experimentation. They were attracted to the driftwood’s naturally weathered look, its patina, texture, and patterning.

“We’d bring it into the studio and look at it for its sculptural qualities and the gestures and really try to listen closely to what the driftwood was saying,” notes Joe.

Make no mistake, however, this is no throwback to a hippie decorating moment. Instead, it is a very modern interpretation of the use of driftwood and reclaimed timber. Of special note is the way Anzfer Farms simultaneously complement and contrast the organic nature of the driftwood by pairing it with materials such as oversized bulbs and geometrically cut walnut bases — materials with a very high degree of regularity.

Some of the taller floor pieces, which reach upwards of eight feet tall, may strike the casual observer as nearly impossible to wire, but Joe and Jon assert that this part of the design process is the most fun for them, reminiscent of a good game of pool. Using a long drill bit, the pair work together to aim, triangulate, drill, and weave wiring through the length of branch.

“We’re not hiding anything,” says Jon. “It’s a formula that works that’s very organic. It doesn’t disrespect the branch at all; it’s more in collaboration with it. That’s a big part of our process, listening to the branch and collaborating with it, listening to each other and stepping back and saying, ‘What does this branch want, and what do we want to see in it?’”

Indeed, so much of Anzfer Farms’s work is about a conversation. Whether these conversations occur between designer and designer, designer and branch, or light and painting, it is one they listen to and learn from. The two have noted that their work as painters, furniture makers, and lighting designers inform and influence each part of their lives and each work they collaborate upon. It’s an overlapping conversation that has led to undeniably singular and beautiful works, and a conversation we hope will be added to for decades to come.

Anzfer Farms’s show, Light Fiction, which also features the jewelry of Liisa Hashimoto, runs through November 30th at Shibumi Gallery.

Geologica : Brigid O'Hanrahan at Shibumi Gallery

An interview by Susan Cummins for the Art Jewelry Forum

28 June 2012
 

April Higashi is a jeweler who opened a lovely intimate gallery called Shibumi in Berkeley, California, a number of years ago. I know her to be industrious and thoughtful, which is reflected in the work she does as well in how she has structured her life and her gallery. She is lots of fun, a woman of many talents and has a good time making things work in her life. At the moment she is having a show called Geologica by Brigid O’Hanrahan, who works in both porcelain and metal and often combines the two in her jewelry. Her sensitive rings and brooches give you a hint of her shy nature.
Susan Cummins: I know we have worked together in the past, but please refresh my memory about how you got to be the owner of a jewelry gallery.
April Higashi: I’ve been making jewelry for twenty years. Even in the beginning when I was first starting to make jewelry, I always thought about how it would be shown, grouped together or how it could be worn. When I worked at your gallery (Susan Cummins Gallery, Mill Valley, California) you instilled in me the importance of thought, idea and craftsmanship in each piece. While there, I realized how much I enjoyed aesthetically arranging and grouping the work. I also realized during that time how much I liked working directly with clients. So I knew I would enjoy curating a gallery. When my husband and I were looking to buy a house we found a building that was zoned for partial commercial use. The space was large enough to have both a workshop/studio and a gallery on the bottom floor. With this set up I felt I could continue to be a jewelry maker as well as take on a new role as curator and gallery owner. Originally I was thinking I would only do the gallery part-time. The reality, however, is that I have ended up creating two full-time jobs for myself. Fortunately I am a good delegator and so I have also ‘curated’ an amazing creative team to help me.
Is it just a jewelry gallery or do you show other things as well?
April Higashi: The focus of the gallery is contemporary art jewelry with some three-dimensional work. My husband is a sculptor and we show his work as well as work by other sculptors. I also show a few select clothing designers whose work is one-off or limited quantities and who come from a more hands-on background in textiles. I think it’s interesting to try to get people who wear artful clothing to wear artful jewelry. The link is actually not obvious to most of my clients, which surprised me. Occasionally I do show paintings and flat or two-dimensional art, but it is usually to compliment the aesthetic and feeling of one of the jewelry shows.
How is it working for you to have your home, studio and gallery in one place?
April Higashi: I would say that we are the true example of integrating LIFE + WORK. We have a two year old and the only way I could do as much as I do and be a mother is because he is just a floor away from it all. So mostly I like it. But there are days that I want to get away from it. For that, I travel.

In 2009, while I was pregnant, I was hoping to refresh my vision of the gallery before I had my baby. I went to the American Craft Council conference, Creating A New Craft Culture. Elissa Author shared many examples of the 1960s studio artist movement and quite a few of those artists were from California and the West. What struck me was that the artists of that era were committed to their artwork and studio practices from the perspective of a lifestyle. Which doesn’t really seem to be the case anymore. I like to think about George Nakashima and his commitment to this lifestyle. His life revolved around making his work and there are photos of his son sitting at one of his tables doing his homework right alongside him. I also really like that my son, Ando, is being raised around all this making and thinking it’s normal. He already loves sitting at the goldsmith bench and pretends to work away. The other day he left an intertwined mound of hammers on the floor in the studio and said, ‘Mama don’t touch, Ando’s sculpture.’
Often the integration of life and work seems to continue more out of necessity than choice. I have to devote time to making new pieces and evolving as an artist in order to make a living. But I am happy to be reminded that it is a choice I’ve made and the lifestyle I have chosen.
 

What are the criteria you use to find artists work for the gallery?
April Higashi: I find artists to show at Shibumi Gallery through both my working and social relationships. Usually we meet at shows or because I’m so immersed in the art jewelry world our paths will inevitably cross at some point. On occasion I see a piece of work that makes me track down an artist.
I tend to choose work by jewelers who I feel are both artists and visionaries. They are usually professional, mid-career artists who are committed to making and selling work but have also have never given up on their own creative vision. Because my life and work are so integrated it is not surprising that when I like an artist’s work I usually also like the person and we often become friends.
It’s important for me to represent people I believe in and whose perspective I respect. I show around 40 artists and I have been told that there is an overlapping aesthetic among the artists I show. It is also important to me that they are craftspeople and makers, not just designers who work on the computer or paper. I like artists who pull ideas from the depths of themselves and don’t just follow trends. To me this often ensures that their work will continue evolving in new and interesting directions.
Who are your clients?
April Higashi: My clients are artistically minded, usually non-traditional, critical thinkers, often leading an ‘individualistic’ lifestyle. They are people who value work that is thoughtfully crafted, beautiful and has been created with an artistic vision. Generally my clients are people in their 30s to 50s with a career in the world of art and design or social services and humanities. If they are older they are people I would describe as ‘ageless,’ meaning you would often guess them to be much younger because of their spirit and attitude. They seek out beautiful or unique pieces not to impress others but because they have a personal affinity with the piece. And in most cases my clients are people I would enjoy seeing or being around outside of the gallery.
Do you feel that the field of art jewelry has established a market place or do you thing we should take Garth Clark’s advise and hitch our wagon to design?
April Higashi: That is a hard question. I feel like how we view ourselves and our work is what creates a market. Although I probably say this because I don’t want to give up on an artful jewelry approach and become a commercial jeweler. I do think, Susan, you’ve done a lot for the art jewelry world. And working with you definitely inspired my perspective.

In saying that I want to show ‘contemporary art jewelry,’ I don’t mean I want to be linked to the fine art world. I think jewelers who make work that they consider ‘fine art’ should make sculpture. And I also believe it’s a good idea to move the image of art jewelry away from the ‘wearable art’ movement. To me jewelry should be artful, wearable and aesthetically appealing. I prefer the idea of art jewelry being linked to the ‘applied arts’ movement.
As to Garth’s suggestion that we give up and hitch craft to design, I disagree. I don’t think we should be linked with designers who don’t come from a background of ‘making’ or of craftsmanship. I think there is often a very big difference between ‘makers’ and designers.
But ultimately what it comes down to for me is this: there are few great artists and many mediocre artists and that is where I draw the line with my gallery. I’m looking for fine art, craft and design. And I’m looking for quality, dedication and a creative vision. Many artists have some or even most of these qualities, but very few have all of these qualities.
Thank you, April. Now I am going to ask some questions of Brigid  O’Hanrahan, whose show Geologica is currently on show in the gallery. Can you tell me how you became a jeweler?
Brigid O'Hanrahan: I was at San Francisco State (a chemistry major) and I started making earrings in the form of electron clouds, made from wire and beads. I sold my first earrings at Nannys, a great jewelry store on lower Grant. Later I met Sammy Gee, who had a jewelry shop on upper Grant and he showed me how to work with lost wax and casting. When I moved to Los Angeles, I started taking metals classes at Cal State Northridge and completed a masters in metals (both jewelry and objects) with Arline Fisch at San Diego State.

You were a teacher for many years at Millersville University in Pennsylvania. When did you retire and move to California? How are you doing there?
Brigid O'Hanrahan: In retrospect I wouldn't recommend two major changes at the same time – it was overwhelming! I'm glad to be back, but miss my dear friends in Philadelphia and the ease of getting around to see people and events.
Do you miss teaching? What was your favorite assignment?   
Brigid O'Hanrahan: I loved teaching metals, especially beginning classes, but after teaching almost 30 years I was ready to let someone else bring their ideas to the students. At this point in my life I want to focus on my own work.
My favorite assignment was the first one. It was to saw out something no larger than 2 x 3 inches in any direction that 'looked right' without drawing on the metal. They were to make it into a pin or key-chain ornament using sawing, filing and soldering and wear it when leaving class – and they were great!
Your work often combines a white-pitted porcelain and gold or silver.   How did you come to use this combination of materials? Are there historical precedents?
Brigid O'Hanrahan: The porcelain pieces have several sources: Chinese bowls that appear to have rice shapes burned out in the firing and then filled with transparent glaze and fired; a friend introducing me to making small cups by hand out of porcelain; and being part of the New Works retreats at Haystack for faculty who have taught there to experiment with new ideas and materials. I can't think of any precedents for using clay as a stone set in gold, but I love the color combination and the ability to have a large stone in a ring that is about shape on the hand.

Rings seem to be your thing. Do you want to discuss a little about how you make them and what you are after with your designs?
Brigid O'Hanrahan: I think of rings as being miniature abstract paintings. They usually are of 18-karat or 22-karat gold which are alloys that will change shape to some extent in response to being worn. So I see the rings as a collaboration between the maker and the wearer. While I do enjoy making rings, they are only part of what gets my attention. I also have a strong interest in making bowls, spoons and small cups, both in metal and in porcelain, all of which are represented in the exhibition at Shibumi. The metal cups started with conversations two friends and I would have at jazz nights at a local club, just casual but fun. I made the cups in sets of two or three in related shapes but with a variation in the sizes in response to the different people. The porcelain cups are related to both conversations between friends and also to the Japanese tea ceremony and the focus on and enjoyment of basic pleasures.
 You titled your show Geologica. Could you explain?      
Brigid O'Hanrahan: The title refers to a group of objects that are based on geological forms. The show consists of jewelry, small sake cups and silver bowls made from porcelain, clay, silver, gold and semiprecious and precious stones. The title suggests (I hope) of or from the earth.
What are you reading currently?
Brigid O'Hanrahan: Zen Mind, Beginner's Mind, informal talks of Zen meditation and practice by Shunryu Suzuki and To The Lighthouse by Virginia Woolf.
Wow, pretty heavy reading . . . What is your favorite book on jewelry?     
Brigid O'Hanrahan: If I have to choose one it would be Brooching It Diplomatically: A Tribute to Madeleine K. Albright, a catalogue of the exhibit by that name curated by Helen Drutt in 1998. Madeleine Albright is brilliant in demonstrating how a partnership between a wearer and a piece of jewelry can set the stage for a conversation.
Other books I love are Partytime by Robert Baines, Navajo Spoons by Cindra Kline and Breon O'Casey by Brian Fallon.
Do you go the theater or movies and if so can you recommend a recent one you enjoyed?      
Brigid O'Hanrahan: A movie:  Jiro Dreams of Sushi, I loved it!
You say, ‘I am drawn to the simplicity and beauty of everyday actions, and make objects which shift attention to the activity of use, making the object both functional and ceremonial.’ Can you explain a bit more about how you see the ceremonial and the functional relating?

Brigid O'Hanrahan: This hard for me to explain and relates to my reading about Zen approaches to actions. In the process of learning about working with metal I have been interested in and learned to use lots of processes – photoetching, electroforming, working with lathes, milling machines, computer operated machines – and what I enjoy (maybe value is a better word) the most are hand processes like sawing, filing, soldering, hammering, sanding. I like to make translucent porcelain sake cups (and other things) because I think of the people who will have a conversation while holding them and sipping something – sake, tea, whatever. I want to make opportunities for conversations to happen because I want to have more conversations myself, something I usually feel awkward doing.
Would you say you are shy and that the ceremonial use of jewelry or cups helps you to feel more comfortable having a conversation?
Brigid O'Hanrahan: I'm laughing! Absolutely shy!

The Art Jewelry Forum is a group of supporters, artists, galleries that support and promote contemporary art. Read the article here and find out more about the organization. 

Visual Cadence: Elisa Bongfeldt and Chris Neff at Shibumi Gallery

review by Elka Karl

At first glance, jewelry makers Elisa Bongfeldt and Chris Neff, featured in Shibumi Gallery’s current show, Visual Cadence, share many common factors: extensive use of oxidized silver; a near-obsession with repetition of simple forms, and a surprisingly gender-ambiguous aesthetic. The more compelling story, however, isn’t in the shared qualities of the work, but in how these two artists and their work diverge. 
Berkeley-based Elisa Bongfeldt creates her jewelry pieces using a mix of 22 karat bimetal and sterling silver tubing, resulting in pieces that are decidedly forward-looking, modern, and minimalist in nature.

When Bongfeldt does add stones to her work, her careful selection and placement of the diamonds, sapphires, or pearls she commonly uses creates a distinctive look, such as in her Open Circles with Diamonds Ring, which combines oxidized silver with five 1.5 mm white diamonds. This ring showcases this most feminine of stones in a pared down interpretation of a floral pattern. The minimalist floral, rendered in oxidized silver, creates a handsome juxtaposition with the diminutive polished stones.

About 10 years ago, Bongfeldt began using 22 karat gold bimetal in her work. “It was a more inexpensive way to use gold without making solid gold pieces,” she explains. The contrast between the 22 karat gold bimetal and the oxidized silver possesses an undeniable frisson, adding a compelling element to the collection.

While the majority of jewelry collections target a female audience, Bongfeldt’s pieces are pleasingly gender ambiguous. Bongfeldt admits that she has never favored traditional jewelry, explaining, “I suppose I have never liked overtly feminine jewelry. I'm very interested in other forms of design (such as furniture and lighting), and perhaps not making feminine jewelry reflects that. Or perhaps it's more a love of minimal design than anything else? A bit less embellished...I've always looked at very opulent jewelry more for the structures of the pieces and sculptural qualities.”

Bongfeldt earned a degree in metal arts from CCA, and then established a studio in Berkeley. The accomplished jeweler was invited to the Smithsonian Annual show in 2005 and 2008. When asked about her influences, Bongfeldt cites Norwegian jewelry artist Tone Vigeland as an inspiration, noting “I think what got me about Tone's work was the simpleness of it — easy techniques to master, but done over and over you get these very complex and interesting forms.” This reverence for repeated, complex forms and patterns is perfectly exemplified in Bongfeldt’s current collection by pieces such as her Large Sapphire Stacked Circle Necklace, which boasts 34 1.2 mm blue sapphires set in oxidized silver.

While Elisa Bongfeldt’s jewelry designs are arguably her most defining characteristic as an artist, Oakland-based goldsmith and jeweler Chris Neff has always self identified as a craftsman with a major focus on fabrication. 

Neff began his career while still in high school, apprenticing with a jewelry maker in Cincinatti, Ohio. At San Francisco’s Revere Academy, he studied jewelry fabrication, and over the last two years 85 percent of his work has focused on stone setting. “People come to me with the complicated projects that other people turn down,” Neff notes. “One of the things I really enjoy is being able to reproduce the same bead size in metal and in each stone — if for instance there’s 40 stones, one little slip and you break a stone. There’s very, very little room for error. There’s no room to recover from most mistakes. That’s what appeals to me.” 
In the current show, Neff’s obsession with working with dozens of intricate stones is exemplified in his Quatrefoil Pendant, which is one of his favorite pieces in the show. The piece required extensive fabrication work on the lathe for milling out the arches in the pattern, as well as almost three dozen black rose cut diamonds set into the oxidized silver and 18 karat gold metal.

Nearly all of Neff’s jewelry work is based on a factor of six or a spacing of 15, 30, or 60 degrees. Neff notes that this design is influenced largely by the fact that milling reproduces those angles exactly, with more options present in a factor of six than a factor of four or five. “The angles break down really nicely,” he explains.

Neff’s interest in design has grown in the past two years, spurred in part by the goal to show a small collection and launch a website of his own by the time he turned 30. The thirty-one-year-old Neff, whose fabrication skills are decades beyond his physical age, has accomplished both goals in admirable fashion. 
Unlike Bongfeldt, whose designs favor a more industrial-influenced or overtly modern look, Neff’s designs look back sometimes centuries or more for inspiration. The Globe Ring in the current show was inspired by a 19th century ring; Neff then used modern fabrication techniques to re-create the inspiration piece as crisply and perfectly as possible.

While Bongfeldt’s work showcases a repetition of circle patterns, several of Neff’s pieces incorporate an oxbow pattern, which he first saw in a 1908 Sears catalog illustration. Like many of his patterns, this one is deceptively simple. The curve and taper in the oxbow has to be replicated perfectly, or the entire piece looks unbalanced.

Neff notes that while the oxbow and other simple patterns may not be groundbreaking shapes, “[T]o mill it out that small and to get the curves right and the shapes right is challenging. That’s where I get really nerdy.” 
For Neff, this challenge means that he relies on more analog methods to create his work. Computer programs are much too easy of an option, and he prefers to know — and master — every step of the fabrication process. Neff noted that when he overheard a guest at the show opening hypothesize that one of Neff’s pieces must have been made with CAD, he had to let him know about the backstory on the piece, including the absence of computer-aided design or drafting. For Neff, the design is important in his work, but on equal footing is process. “When I get to my studio and sit down there’s a shift that happens. My everyday life is so quickly paced. I love to put blinders on and slow down.” 

Elisa Bongfeldt and Chris Neff’s show, Visual Cadence, runs through September 30th at Shibumi Gallery.