Friday, December 13, 2013

The Well of Creativity

Balanced on silver pebbles, 

and dressed in petals,

A Sterling Silver and Tibetan Turquoise Pendant.

The back, 
a silver medallion placed concave,
in a layered construction of depth...
a puddle of light versus dark.

The well of creativity...

Awhile back,
It occured to me....
and has been a source of much discussion this year
both with other artists,
and with my own heart.

From where does creativity come?
Is it a blast of light?
Is it a fury like fire?
Does it burn?

Is it like a spring from the bedrock of our existence,
bubbling up to bring fresh life,
to carefully construct rebirth and renewal?

what IS creativity?
Does it wilt?
Will it die?

 I have thought a lot this year on potential,
on my own personal well,
whether or not my well could run dry...

Peering down is startling,
because the reflection below
 staring right back at me

 It takes much energy,
sometimes a stupendous amount,
To draw from within.

This process of dipping into creative work,
to truly swim around in that depth, an artist's potential,
the possibilities of a future full of triumph and successes,
and a path of small failures, of contrition, of closed doors..

It is an act of faith, really.
Faith in yourself.
Faith that you not only see your reflection, 
but you realize that you are capable of looking beyond it...
that what you find beyond your mirrored image
is dark and cloudy, but not a mystery.
It's just dark because the light hasn't quite hit it at the right angle yet.

So here I offer a well,
a creative bowl of possibilites...
a place to remember the depth of your own character.
A place to honor your creative potential.
A medallion for creative work.

A place where light and dark work together,
where they dance and play with eachother.
Dark for the sake of light,
Light for the sake of Dark.

Tuesday, December 10, 2013

Handmade Holiday, a snapshot

Artisan Bread, 

baked goodies,

Origami, folded with love and care,

Heidi's addicting pottery collection,
(mine grows every year...there's nothing like a cuppa joe out of one of her handmade mugs)

Silver bangles and baubles,

The best damn local honey, e.v.e.r.

Tim Carlburg's handmade whiskey flasks and beer growlers...

Felt and needle,

So many awesome attendees,
so many wonderful handmade things from the heart.
Very proud to put on such a talented collective of local artists!

We had a packed house Friday night, 
and Saturday was a steady stream of folks.
Most of the pictures are Saturday, since I didn't even have a chance to get at my camera Friday night!

Thanks so much to all who came out and supported LOCAL artists, 

Hope your holidays are filled with this kind of love.

xo Erin.

Monday, December 2, 2013

2nd annual Handmade Holiday is Here!

from top left: 

from top left: 

From top Left:
Sally Glutting ~ fiber artist,
Sally Askevold ~ ceramics.

We're also happy to host Adrien Leroux and his handmade origami,
and locally made Christmas wreathes too!

remember this?!

we're doing it again, with twice the artists/vendors!
So stinking excited!
I've been slamming in the studio,
 finishing up some long awaited pieces,
starting a series of new work,
busting out my montana sapphires,
cranking away at earrings...

busy busy busy!

Here's a sneakpeak on our facebook event!
Bohemian Grange Hall
Whitefish, Montana
It's gonna be awesome!

Saturday, November 30, 2013

Feathers for Flight: A series of necklaces

Burrow Creek Jasper,
Laguna Lace Agates,
Ocean Jasper,
and Arizona Turquoise.

All with solitaire feathers pierced on the backplate.

Feathers for flight.

Feathers for lightness,
when things are heavy.

In the shop today!
Back to the studio,
heat's on and pickle pot is warm.
Much to do!

xo Erin

Monday, November 25, 2013

an evening with Merlin

My stone guy.....One of the most awesome old dudes out there.
I had the pleasure of visiting him in Livingston where he now lives, just east of Bozeman, MT,
on the way down to Colorado last week.

I got the grande tour.
A shed, no bigger than the bungalito.
One side heated, for the water grinders.
and one side outside, sorta.  For everything else.

He bemoaned his lack of space,
but then cheerily changed the subject to his dreams of a big shop.
A pole-barn.  Where all his stuff would be in the same space,
and he could "really get some shit done."

We talked rocks mostly.
expensive rocks.
mystical rocks.
controversial rocks.
rocks with crappy cleavage,
rocks with special tools,
rocks that were complete junk.
We talked about the ridiculous amount of rocks this guy had come to own,
and what in the hell he was going to DO with them all.
and, with a chuckle, what his wife thought about it all.

But we also talked school.
We talked War. 
Vietnam mostly.
Drug addictions.
Bakeries and love stories.
Metaphysics and weird coincidences.
Rich people.
 Poor people.
Mountain people.
The difference between Craft and Art.
(Merlin most certainly considers himself a craftsman, although I beg to differ....and did.  for hours.)

We talked about his long life in the world of lapidary.
His starts, his stops.  His challenges, and his most proud moments.
Ones where he felt the need (which he rarely does) to drop names of artists whom he's proud to have worked with, not only in collaboration, but also in repairs where not even the original studio could have done better. They said so themselves.  THAT, he says, was something to be proud of.

We talked universities.  school.
We talked a lot on this.  
We considered the prospects of fine art education,
tech schools, workshops, the revere academy.
Apprenticeship. Teaching. Galleries.
And now I know it's the reason I stopped in to see him,
besides to drool over his gorgeous rocks,
and pick up a new loot for Christmas.

We talked about distance.
Between talent and training.
Between working with your hands,
and fulfilling something bigger.
Finding the art in what you do,
falling in love with it.
No matter how badly it can beat you up.
There was a time where Merlin was an affluent rock dealer,
where 30 grand in cash,
and business deals involving it,
were no big thing.
Where loosing it all was, for him, as he has now the space to reflect...
"just part of the cost of doing business..."

Merlins knuckles are raw.
from grinding down piles and piles and piles of lapidary slices.
Scabby, worn, tired.
His shop is tiny.
His eyes are "shot without this damn optivisor".
And he's definitely old enough to retire.

He recognized the struggle in studio art.
The inherent battle of money, and time, and health.

And as a metalsmith in Montana,
and a seasoned road-sales guy,
(35,000 miles a year folks)
He not only told me, with a twinkle in his bright icy-blue eyes,

to buck up.

get busy.

He told me that I'm never going to have anything I wasn't meant to have.

and if you're not having fun, don't do it.

My heart swelled with this good advice.
Thanks, old man.
I needed that.