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Studio practice
My practice is both a platform and a method for reflection and philosophical enquiry: a personal space in which to ask myself questions, test answers and reactions, and understand how I think and why. It is how I raise my awareness of myself and of how I navigate in the cosmos. In the Socratic spirit that knowledge is virtue, I am driven by the desire to always become a better person. Deeply rooted in mindfulness, my practice is where I learn to exist as an integral, rather than dominant, part of all that surrounds me, resulting in a radical ethical approach.
The need to investigate, uncover, say, comment or express creates the narrative that fills most of my work. This story-telling takes the form of jewellery pieces which are, at the same time, a means to and an expression of my questioning, reflection and growth, and an invitation to the viewers and wearers to also question, reflect and grow by, quite literally, embracing them close to their bodies.
A new piece will first manifest itself sometimes from simply holding a found object, sometimes from a recurring word or phrase (often already a title!) echoing in my head, or more often from a situation, a moment of clarity, or the need to understand something or to share a line of personal enquiry. Materials, with no hierarchy of value, are included simply according to how they fit this process. Any hesitation as to their choice is a vital clue to me that my question or answer is not sufficiently clear and a piece is not ready to be made, and I cannot and must not force it into material existence. When the moment is right, assembling is normally fast and instinctive, and my design process is dictated by an innate make-do attitude: as with everything else in life, I thrive on applying my knowledge to constructive problem solving and finding low-tech workable solutions from available resources and basic staples.
Most of my jewellery work then comes to be embodied in a one-off piece or small ensemble. Very rarely, I have happened upon questions that have worked at an even slower pace but the need to externalise them has been stronger, in the path of understanding them, than the importance to find clear answers. And this is where my occasional series are born, never knowingly finite but projects that need to remain open to reflection and enquiry, to be re-examined and re-explored until that time when they might feel resolved.
Words and language are for me another material which accompanies me through the making process, and their manipulation is just as essential a factor in determining how the work will finally manifest itself. As a result, titles are never just a necessity or an afterthought and instead, whether at the origin of its concept, or as a final reflection, they form an integral part of each piece.
Most important of all, I have learnt that the "studio" for me is far from being confined to the walls of my physical workshop and it extends to wherever I happen to be at any particular moment, processing information, asking new questions, reflecting. Over the years, I have learnt to listen to the rhythms of my thinking and to let them guide me: be it the workshop, the keyboard, the pen, the classroom, a book or a museum, my workstation stays fluid. And whereas I used to be daunted by not making enough, I have come to understand that "making" does not necessarily equate to a new jewellery piece. And so I now confidently reach for the bench only when it calls. And, when it is time, it always does.
