More Jellyfish and Bubbles

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I finished the jellybubbles necklace last night, and I really love the effect. How cool is this piece? The top photo shows the setting after I sawed and filed it. The bottom photo is the finished piece, after I tumbled it and set the stone. And yes, as much as I’d love to keep this piece, it is up in my shop.



Hopefully you guys get a kick out of seeing the process of making these pieces, because I’m documenting the one I’m working on today, too. I’ve got this fantastic piece of pinky peach fossilized coral sitting on my bench…

Jellyfish and Bubbles

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I started playing with these little silver balls yesterday. I love the three dimensional quality of them, and the playfulness they add to designs. Not to mention I make them myself by melting down scrap silver. I love recycling!



I have a nice collection of cabochons sitting here, all begging to be set. This stone is a piece of fossilized coral, which has a pattern that reminds me of jellyfish. It’s a lovely smokey gray with two amber spots. The silver balls around the setting make me think of bubbles, which seems really appropriate for my jellyfish stone.

I thought I’d take a picture of the setting in process for y’all. These shots show the piece soldered and pickled, before being sawed out. If I remember, I’ll take a couple-few more shots along the way. I’m excited about this one. Actually, I’m excited to be able to get back to my bench after this bout with the flu!

Back at the Bench

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I’ve finally conquered my bout with the flu, at least enough to get back to work. And I have a To Do list as long as my arm! I have a lot of new design ideas bubbling around in my head, as well. How else could I entertain myself while I was sick?

Walk a Mile in My…

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“You can only take 8 items into the dressing room,” the guy with the earphone stated, staring at my huge pile of clothing.

I hate shopping. Have I mentioned that I hate shopping? Now, don’t get me wrong. I love clothes, I just hate shopping. What I would like is for a pile of fantastic clothes that flatter my figure and fit me like a glove to magically appear in my wardrobe. But shopping? Not so much.

“OK, I’ll leave the rest of these outside, and swap them out,” I replied, separating out a stack of t-shirts.

I went through the pile of t-shirts, passed out the losers (most of them), and moved on to the stuff on hangers. And then, when I was done, got dressed again.

Except I had no shirt.

After searching frantically through the clothes piled in the dressing room, I realized I must have passed my own t-shirt out with the ones I tried on. So I threw on one with dangly tags and rushed out to find the guy with the earphone.

Ah yes, I am the very arbiter of grace and beauty. Never a foot wrong, never a hair out of place…

After a few minutes search, we managed to find my t-shirt on a pile of clothes waiting to be folded. So I wasn’t, in the end, forced to walk a mile home in just my bra.

Have I mentioned that I hate shopping? Yeah, I thought I had.

Spring Has Sprung

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Spring has sprung, and my Cherry Blossoms earrings are finally up in my shop! I’ve been keeping these all to myself for months, but now I’m ready to share. (Meaning I’ve finally managed to pry these out of my ears long enough to get some photos.) My lovely, whimsical little flower earrings. J’adore.

Strange Experiments

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I admit it - I’m addicted to black and white. I adore black and white movies. I love the lighting, and the style, and the mystery of it all. And my favorite photographers all worked in black and white, too: Man Ray, Bill Brandt, Francesca Woodman, and Imogen Cunningham, to name just a few.

So why do I keep beating my head against the color wall? I keep thinking that if I work at it, I’ll get the hang of this color photography gig. But in the end, I just don’t see the world that way. I see line, and lighting, and drama, but color just doesn’t impact my vision. And it’s hard to photograph what you don’t see.



This week, I’ve given in to the inevitable and embraced the black and white. I’ve been running strange lighting and perspective experiments, and coming up with predictably strange results. I’m sure I’ll grit my teeth and try working with color again at some point. But for the moment, I’m living in my comfort zone.

Chopped

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“So, what did you have in mind today?” asked Mary, surveying the wild, frizzy mass of hair on my head.

“Just, you know, do something with it,” I replied. “As long as it curls.”

Mary and I have an unusual relationship. I consider her an artist in hair, and she considers my hair the ultimate medium. For the past 10 years, I’ve been letting her do whatever she wants with my hair, as long as she meets my basic requirements, which are:

1. I don’t have to comb it
2. I don’t have to style it
3. Washing it is optional, and only done when I’m in the mood
4. I can just roll out of bed, throw on some clothes, walk out the door, and look fabulous

“I saw this fantastic new cut,” she tells me. “It’s all the rage in Europe. I can thin it out a bit, texturize it…”

(You need to know at this point that I have enough hair on my head for three people, and it grows at a fantastic rate.)

“Go for it,” I responded with the utmost faith.

It’ll take a couple of weeks for my curls to settle into the new cut, but I’m already in love. And look! I have a face again.

Through the Wormhole

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So I’ve finally been dragged kicking and screaming onto Facebook this week. What a laugh! I’ve found people I haven’t talked to for more years than I care to count. The real entertainment value, though, is in the photos. These people have photos from waaaaay back in the dark ages. And they’re really, really funny. I don’t know which is weirder, looking at how we all looked way back then, or seeing how much older everyone looks now.

Anyway, for your sheer entertainment value, I give you a completely geeked out photo of me, age 11. Yes indeedy, that is me on the right there. I’d like to you observe how I’ve finished off my fab look by adding my initials to the lenses of my glasses. Because, you know, obviously the glasses and braces weren’t geeky enough by themselves.