Studio jeweler tells stories from the bench.

The suitcases are evidence that the muse has been fed.

A year ago I bought some new suitcases just prior to a family trip to Tuscany. Despite my preference for black in most things of apparel (t-shirts, pants, shoes, gloves, etc.) I chose not to purchase black suitcases because I wanted to make the baggage-claim process more efficient. So, we have taupe suitcases, purple suitcases, and orange suitcases. Of course, now, after a few trips during the last year, the suitcases are dirty. Black suitcases do not show dirt, but colored, non-black ones do.

But, this is something to celebrate!

My dirty orange suitcase means that I have used it. It has been somewhere. And that means that I have, too.

My life consists of a few environments that I frequent over and over again: my studio, my home, my car, my town. Suppose I lived month after month, year after year, only experiencing those environments. I am confident that in such a case my work would stagnate. And, I ask you, who wants to make stagnant work?

The world is a book and those who do not travel read only one page.

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St. Augustine

Recently I had the privilege of a first visit to San Antonio, Texas. I encountered the idyllic Riverwalk, bought some cowgirl boots, visited The Alamo, and ate Tex Mex multiple times in one weekend. It was a short trip, and a wonderful Saltshaker experience.

I planned my trip using the recommendations of friends and a little research before departing to be sure I found the beyond-the-guidebook treasures San Antonio has to offer. I visited Artpace, and encountered avant-garde installations that I am still processing for understanding and personal application.

There is such inherent value in travel, not just for an artist like me, but for anyone. It facilitates complex thought, fosters physical stamina, and enriches the traveler’s worldview. I have observed a duality in the nature of travel. Travelers often combine their immersion into the unfamiliar culture they are visiting with a search for commonality. When I visited Italy, I worked to understand the language, the food, the maps, the currency, etc. But I also found myself searching for commonality. I sought jewelers studios and a venue to purchase European jewelry-making tools because this is what I know.

Perhaps travel cannot prevent bigotry, but by demonstrating that all peoples cry, laugh, eat, worry, and die, it can introduce the idea that if we try and understand each other, we may even become friends.

Maya Angelou

The need for community is universal to the human condition. I bought a riveting hammer in Italy, and I know that somewhere in Italy, there is a metalsmith with the same hammer. He is creating wonderful jewelry. I need to know this.

Be it a trip around the globe, or just to a new corner of your own state, travel enriches life. A journey taken serves to feed the muse. And, as an artist, I find that a well-fed muse visits me more often and is therefore less elusive. (The topic of the elusive muse will be reserved for a future blog post.)

Once you have traveled, the voyage never ends, but is played out over and over again in the quietest chambers. The mind can never break off from the journey.

Pat Conroy

My mother often quoted the proverb about absence making the heart grow fonder, and I do think it is true. It is being away from home — traveling — that makes coming home that much sweeter. This is the place where community is not only present, but active and engaged on a daily basis. This is the place where the traveler has mastered the environment (as characterized by language, food, customs, navigating) and can then focus on responding to the muse and serving others through creating new work.

And, after gaining the perspective afforded by travel, often the community of home becomes healthier. And, health cannot be overvalued.

Where thou art

that

is Home.

-Emily Dickenson

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During the drive to Quirk Gallery in Richmond, Va., last week, fellow metalsmith Tara F. and I talked about the nuances of the creative life, or, the duties of having been created creative.

Quirk Gallery is a fine contemporary craft gallery presenting wonderful work in a wonderful way. We were headed to Quirk for “Unplug with Bob” — a intimate luncheon with Bob Ebendorf. Bob recently completed a vault project at Quirk, and Tara and I always enjoy an opportunity to connect with Bob. He shared an array of raw materials and talked about how he would approach each one. It’s always enlightening to gain insight into the mind of a master.

Tara and I have both studied at Penland School of Crafts previously, and we always relish the opportunity to immerse ourselves in the studio, at the bench, our creative processes unencumbered by the all the wonderful duties and relationships that are the stuff of life. It is possible to reach a new realm in your work when you have the luxury of both quality and quantity time.

Of course, this kind of intensive enrichment is simply not possible on a daily basis at home.

But, that’s okay. The key is to create access to the same level of enrichment for oneself at home. Figuratively resting on a shelf in a high-traffic area, available on an as-needed basis.

Like a saltshaker.

No one wants to eat only salt all the time. But a little here and there can make all the difference in the flavor of your life. Going too long without it can mean an artist finds herself suddenly lost in a creative wasteland.

Excursions like studying at Penland or having lunch with Bob is our salt. Or, sometimes exploring the web or reading a new book can be a little salty. Just enough to keep us flavored until the next saltshaker moment.

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On my blog and website, you will see a badge that says, “I TOOK THE HANDMADE PLEDGE/BUYHANDMADE.ORG” I first discovered the Pledge on the website of another metalsmith, checked it out, and signed myself up. So, what is it?

Buy Handmade is a consortium of nine forces in the world of handmaking. Among them are the American Craft Council, Indiepublic, and Etsy. It’s about creativity AND creative problem-solving. It’s about individuality and quality. It’s about entrepreneurship and careful, thoughtful gift-giving. (Read their “about” statement here.)

I feel so strongly about handmaking that I have built my business on the work of my own hands.(Read more: The Hand) I know that consumers have choices, and often they do choose to purchase mass-manufactured and marketed costume jewelry, or even sterling jewelry produced overseas at shockingly low price points. I can’t and don’t compete for this customer, because this person really isn’t my customer in that particular purchase. That person may, however, be my customer for another purchase when they are seeking something special. Something personal.

For me, taking the pledge means that whenever possible, I will look to the handmade when I decide to buy something. This goes beyond gift-giving. It means shopping at my local farmer’s market (or even buying the “locally grown” produce in my neighborhood chain grocery store). It means limiting my gift options to the handmade work of my friends, sellers online and myself. It means supporting independent musicians. It means baking again. It even means looking within my own walls first for a solution when I think I need to buy something (as my grandmother, a child of the Great Depression, does).

It doesn’t mean I give my friends a crocheted toilet paper cover for Christmas (although I do have a nostalgic fuzzy feeling about those things). It doesn’t mean I will have to petition my local government for permission to have a milk cow in city limits, so I can have milk, so I can make my own butter. (But, fortunately, there is a lady at the farmer’s market with her own fresh butter - yum!)

If for no other reason than to add merit to my position, I will concede that buying handmade is the ideal. Short of life on a commune or the like, it isn’t always possible to live this way. But I want to make it a priority, a personal goal, a deliberate way of thinking. Living this way creates a richness in life that is sweet. And without some kind of ideal to hold ahead, how do we live? Not well.

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Because memories are valuable, and heirlooms help us keep our memories and transfer the stories to the next generations, I am honored to assist families with transferring their heirloom jewelry into the contemporary world. We are able to preserve the memories and enjoy a contemporary aesthetic at the same time.

Clients often come to me with a handful of “old jewelry.” These pieces have been passed through generations, and while they have merit and value based on from where they have come, they often are in disrepair or are of a style that is not compatible with the current owner. Sometimes the client’s wishes are to simply restore the jewelry’s condition or perhaps make slight changes. Other times, the client works with me to harvest stones and then design a new piece around these stones that is contemporary but also commemorates the client’s personal story.

renaissance - (ren-ais-sance) \noun \ A revival of or renewed interest in something.

After talking with the client about their wishes, the design process begins. Often I enjoy hearing the client’s memories or stories associated with the historical jewelry. These vignettes often inform the design process as we seek together to honor the story. I will also consider the client’s style, even sometimes inquiring about the style of their furniture or their favorite foods. I take time then to sketch, alone, to attempt to capture all this information in the design, of course within the context of “form follows function.” First rule of jewelry is that it must be wearable, comfortable, secure and of quality materials.

The client and I will then come back together to discuss the sketches and select a final design. I like to provide several options, all of which meet the criteria dictated by the story, the materials and the client’s preferences.

We typically have two technical options: First, I can build the piece completely at the bench. Second, we can use outside resources such as CAD (Computer Aided Design) and casting. Factors affecting this choice may include the complexity of the piece, the client’s desire for perfect symmetry beyond the capacity of the human hand, and cost.

CAD is great fun for me. I remember the first time I outsourced for CAD and casting. I had spent years at the bench fabricating everything, and the piece that I had sent to my friends for CAD and casting was just a drawing in my mind. When they had completed their work, they placed the completed cast ring in the palm of my hand. It was a surreal moment.

CAD offers many things to the process of jewelry making. Among them is the opportunity for the client to see a rendering of their piece before it is made — before any metal is expended and before there have been any tools flying. We can still make minor adjustments to the piece at this point. The renderings are so realistic these days - some clients think it is a photograph of the ring already completed.

After the CAD renderings are approved by the client, a 3-D print is created, a mold is made, and the ring is cast. Stones are set. Sizing is adjusted. Metal is polished. We have successfully paid homage to the past as we are carrying the story into the present and future.

The particular piece pictured throughout this post is a ring recently completed for a client. Her diamonds were harvest as pictured above, and these are sketches and renderings for her piece. She is blessed with a family of 11, including children and grandchildren. There are 11 diamonds in the ring. This ring is a celebration of her family.

The renaissance piece is complete.

At this point, no one knows what will become the function and purpose of those fingers and toes. Will those hands become the hands of a plumber? a chef? a nurse? a father? It is the beginning of a story. Hands are storytellers with an active role in the story. They are not merely observers of our lives; they are our essential tools.

As I work daily with metal, building, forging, fabricating, I am consistently aware of the role of my hands in my process. Attuned body awareness is healthy, and I am particularly conscious of my hands. I often joke about my hammers because I am so very fond of them. “Bury me with my hammers,” I have said in jest. But if you took my hammers from me, I would make myself one with scrap steel and wood. I could do this. I would find a way. But my hands…. My hands are irreplaceable.

Perhaps it is the realization that without full use of my hands, I cannot earn my living in the way that I choose. Or, perhaps it is something much deeper than that … something more visceral and primal. Two years ago I experienced a raw gut reaction to a serious hand injury, and this reaction surprised me. A section of a jeweler’s saw blade became violently lodged in my right thumb. The teeth of a jeweler’s blade are directional, and the blade pierced my thumb freely, and then simply could not be retracted. Using magnification and my own precision tools, I tried in vain for an hour to remove the blade myself. At this point, I drove myself to see my doctor. He is a terrific physician, always ready for whatever I and my family may present to him. He used a biopsy punch to remove a deep cylindrical section of my thumb surrounding the blade. I was hopeful that all I had to do now was recover. It was early November. I should have been able to heal and return to the bench in just enough time to complete all my Christmas commissions.

But, in the days and weeks that followed, I developed a serious infection. The blade wasn’t clean, of course, and the resulting wound was very narrow and very deep - impossible to clean completely despite my diligent efforts. The situation that ensued was traumatic for me. Worst case scenario was losing my thumb. Vigilante antibiotics took care of the infection, and even after the wound healed it took months to regain sensation. By going to an orthopaedist specializing in the hand I learned after an x-ray that there was still a piece of metal lodged deep in my thumb. It was most likely a fragment of the sterling silver piece I was sawing when my blade broke. It was too deep and too small to be removed surgically.

And now, two years later, it’s still in there.

It’s only a thumb. It’s just a little thing. Right? No.

The convergence of keen dexterity and creativity is a force. It melds the heart, mind and hand in a powerful throng of production. My injury was analogous to a gash in my soul.

Every day at the bench I fight to overcome not only the strange presence of a silver fragment in my thumb but also the nagging pain of arthritis in some of the joints in my hands. It is a daily battle. Most days I triumph. But, in my ripe late thirties, I worry about the future. I worry about the condition of my hands after ten more years or twenty more years at the bench, asking so much more of my hands than the average person. In my mind, I know worry should not be mine. But in my heart, I worry.

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There is a wall in my home studio where I find myself displaying quotes or images that inspire me. There are words there from Louis Armstrong, Albert Einstein, Pablo Picasso, Madeleine L’Engle and my dear grandmother, to name a few. I wrote directly on the wall with Sharpie® markers because I really don’t care about the marketability of the house later on (are you shocked?!?!?), at least not when it comes to the studio. My studio is definitely among my favorite places, not so much because of the environment but because of what happens there.

I merely took the energy it takes to pout and wrote some blues.

-Duke Ellington

In the spring of 2005 I moved my bench to a studio collaborative downtown. After so many years of working from my cool home studio, I decided to go “public”. I like being more accessible to clients, and having my work be more readily available. I do still have the home studio, and sometimes it moves to different parts of the house, but mostly it is home to all my painting supplies.
The downtown studio is home to a variety of metalsmithing techniques. There is a waist-high 24-inch-thick log, called Isabel after the hurricane to which she surrendered, where one of my anvils is perched. There’s a small forge, my homemade bench from the desk that was my husband’s first when he began his career, a bandsaw given to me by my father, the hot table (two soldering stations), a belt sander, the found object gallery, a buffing wheel, four benches (two are mine, two for my apprentices), grandma’s big metal snips, and a host of vices, pins, hammers and other tools. In the home studio is my painting (or, painted!) table, shelves with supplies, art books, music, a floor cushion for emergency naps or prayers, lots of white canvas and paper, a couple of desks, a chalkboard that is never big enough, and my fish, Stanley, and his orchid, which we rescued from overwatering at the big-box home improvement place.

Don’t run with scissors.

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-Paynter Family Wisdom

I fill my days with explorations of designs and techniques through completing custom pieces for clients as well as whatever the latest series is of pieces for the gallery. My work is both creative and technical, and my gratitude for vocation and clarity of purpose is abundant. The depth of my journey continues to surprise me. My life has consistently taken turns that I wouldn’t have imagined growing up in rural North Carolina. There I learned many things about the reliability of God, first communicated to me through the consistency of His creation — the seasons, the path of the sun, the cycles of living and dying. I much preferred time spent alone outside the house than time spent accompanied inside the house. And even now despite the people surrounding me in close proximity every day, I am still much a person of solitude. I find that since my time alone is so limited these days compared to the days of my childhood, I am learning the joy of leaving my thoughts unexpressed until it’s time.

Imagination is more important than knowledge.

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-Albert Einstein

I believe I have been created creative. As a child I was allowed to just be a kid. I was afforded lots of play time, which was really when I was learning to create. I produced nothing of great worth during this time — no masterpieces on canvas or significant sculptures — but I was learning the process of free-flowing creativity, which now is absolutely essential to me. My first manifestation of creativity was verbal. I excelled in most things of language and pursued a degree in journalism. I loved the few years I worked with my husband in community journalism. It afforded me experiences in photography, graphics, design, writing, interviewing, editing and darkroom technology. I would receive an assignment, interview interesting people and take pictures, and then later while driving or cooking or drifting off to sleep, the story’s lead would come to me, in full form with perfect phrasing and grammar and punctuation. I learned to write it down instantly, for if I did not it would be gone later. I discovered I was part of something larger than myself.

What we play is life.

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-Louis Armstrong

During the course of my undergraduate journalism study I took my first studio art class. It was simply a drawing class — still life and life forms. My skills were meager but my quiet enthusiasm generous. This gesture drawing is from that period. Later I left journalism when my primary companion became my first daughter. In some ways we grew up together — she was learning to trust me as I provided her food and rest and a place to take her first steps, and I was learning to trust myself and to trust God to provide our food and rest and to lead my steps.

The aim of an artist is not to resolve a question irrefutably, but to compel one to love life in all its manifestations, and these are inexhaustible.

–Leo Tolstoy

When my daily work no longer resided in language I realized the range of applications of my creativity. I learned that my hands love to be intimately involved. I had begun making beaded jewelry while in college, and as I continued doing so I struck a wall. Beads just were not enough for me anymore — not complicated enough, not bizarre enough, not rare enough. After having commissioned a metalsmith to craft our wedding bands several years before, I believed metalsmithing to be the next level for me in the world of art jewelry. I saved money to buy tools, read everything I could find on the subject, but could not proceed without some hands-on training. I took a beginning metals class at a nearby city arts center and plunged completely into metal. I found it to be a medium of wonderful response to the artist. It is a force that demands collaboration with the artist instead of submitting to the will of the artist.

Nobody sees a flower — really — it is so small, it takes time — we haven’t time — and to see takes time, like to have a friend takes time.

–Georgia O’Keeffe

Over the years I have explored metals and painting and fabric. It seems that most people who know me would first describe me as creative. I often hear people say they have “not a creative bone in their body”. As often as I’ve heard that from people, I tend not to believe it. Creativity is not manifest only in artists. Creativity is an approach to all of life. But in my case, creativity is manifest in art. I may not always find time to do the laundry or wash the car, but I am never without the development of something new from my hands. It’s not intentional. I don’t include “do something creative” on my to-do list. But I breathe. I sleep. I create.

We are human and humble and of the earth, and we cannot create until we acknowledge our createdness.

–Madeleine L’Engle

To create art is to participate in a collaborative process. The most exciting stuff happens when I set myself aside and allow God to create yet again through me. Any statement I could make about God will be incomplete, but I believe God is a dimensional being with facets I can only begin to fathom, and among them is God as the Great Creator. Any talents or abilities that God has given me are not mine but God’s. All that I do, I do to glorify God. I spent many years trying to live my life and fix myself and accomplish various things on my own, acknowledging God but not engaging God. They were painful but necessary years. Without them I would not know what I know for sure, and that is that God is my Redeemer and my friend.

Straightaway the ideas flow in upon me, directly from God.

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-Johannes Brahms

Art without faith isn’t really art. It is something else entirely different — some sort of humanistic expression of self. Art carries the artist and the subsequent viewers/participants to a place of spiritual engagement. The artist is a participant in something much larger than herself, something higher, something extraordinary. The creation is the testimony to that precious collaboration. Those who experience the piece for generations to come are the witnesses, and the art of their lives, whether in ways small or large, is shaped by their awareness of that spiritual engagement. That contact may bring you to a place of elation or a place of sorrow, confusion, or deliberate ambivalence. Whatever it is, it is a reaction. It is a reaction from you that was spurred first by action and that becomes forevermore a piece of your history. When a song touches you or a painting moves you or a book makes you angry, when a film makes you cry or a meal fills your void or a hug relaxes your muscles, you have been spiritually engaged.

Choose a job you love, and you will never have to work a day in your life.

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-Confucious

Let me express my gratitude to you for your interest in my work. If you are still reading this, which is actually my artist’s statement, you have given me a bit of your precious time, and I thank you for that. ………….ginger

If you are interested in reading more about the Theology of Art, I recently discovered an interesting blog on the topic here.

I was not the first jeweler in my town.

When I moved into my downtown studio 3 1/2 years ago as one of several resident artists in a collaborative environment, there was already a sign over the studio that read “Jeweler.” The assumption was that all that had to be done was to add my name. But, I wanted to change more than that. Instead of “jeweler,” I used “metalsmith.”

Does the average person know what a metalsmith is? what a metalsmith does? And, how is that different from a jeweler? “Metalsmith” is a truer name for my craft than “jeweler.” Although “jeweler” does apply, “metalsmith” indicates more. Even though all three of the qualifying statements below the main sign mention jewelry, I wanted to communicate that I have skills and techniques that are applicable beyond jewelry. I am part of an artisan community within the American Studio Craft Movement.

metalsmith /met•al•smith/ noun -

a person skilled in making articles of metal

(source: dictionary.com)

It is also helpful to understand the etymology of -smith as an English suffix that indicates a person of specialized craftsmanship, such as a wordsmith (writer). So, a metalsmith is a person with specialized skills in metal-related work.

I could also call myself a goldsmith, but that’s not all I do. I could call myself a silversmith, but that’s not all I do. Metalsmith.

Over the past few years I have found that using “metalsmith” brings some lively jobs to my bench. I have repaired copper kettles with disconnected spouts. I have rebuilt pewter belt buckles. I have restored Judiaca, including sterling silver Torah Crowns and Breastplates. I have polished challises and candelabras. I have constructed reliquaries and containers for dog remains. All of this is beyond jewelry.

Jewelry is my mainstay. It is the realm I most often explore, perpetually discovering new approaches to and with the same medium. Periodically going beyond jewelry heightens my understanding of jewelry itself. Of ornamentation. Of symbolism and association of the object to something greater and grander than the object.

Metalsmithing is a perfect marriage of art and science. Metal is an amazing medium that participates in the creative process through its inherent scientific characteristics and its versatile beauty as an element from the earth. It is my partner, bringing continual challenge and celebration to my process.

I would like to introduce you to Nancy Digman.

She is my friend and former classmate at Arrowmont School of Arts and Crafts in Gatlinburg, Tenn. Nancy’s work is graceful and thought-provoking. She strikes a dichotomy between soothing the viewer/wearer and challenging them with the meanings in her organic, meticulously executed pieces. She works primarily in sterling silver and copper with additions of stones, pearls, organic found materials and more.

Nancy lives in Indianapolis. She has been expanding her studio lately. Her small sculpture “Pod” was featured in a show in downtown Indie called Elegant Funk (watch it on YouTube here). (Nancy’s sculpture is featured in this video beside a Blackberry device for scale!) This piece - at just five inches high - comes from divine inspiration, she tells me, and she fought to complete it after being delayed for weeks after a tree fell on her studio. With the exception of the center “stamens,” this piece is constructed from a single piece of flat copper sheet. This piece is my favorite Nancy Digman. I admire her work and her attitude.

(Here is a view inside “Pod” from above. Click on image to enlarge.)

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Here is a piece entitled “Venus” that is also among Nancy’s recent work. The bail and outer frame are fabricated, and the centerpiece is etched, riveted and oxidized. This piece is another example of Nancy’s innate sense of design.

Nancy is a master with organic leaf and vine forms, which is so beautifully executed in this piece she made at Arrowmont called “Walk in the Woods.” She weaves meaning into a single piece in complex ways. “Walk in the Woods” is constructed of oxidized sterling, copper sheet, beveled glass, found copper wire given to Nancy by her dad and related to his work at the University of Illinois 50 years ago, three beads representing Nancy and her two sisters, a tube bezel-set yellow sapphire given to Nancy in a ladies’ room (note to self: ask Nancy about this one!), a found twig from the Arrowmont campus, and fold-formed leaves and vines. The copper background is etched with imagery of trees that reminds Nancy of her parents’ home, and the leaves and vines are also etched and given a patina of alcohol ink. This piece is exquisite.
Below is Nancy’s artist statement. I told Nancy recently how after years in the art world it is easy to become numb to art and numb to artists’ statements. But, in some ways this is a good thing because then only the really good stuff actually generates a reaction in me. This statement and Nancy’s work generate a reaction in me.

My work is an experiment in emotion and hope,
informed by everything I have ever experienced or imagined
visually, aurally, viscerally, spiritually.
A leaf.
A sewer grate.
A vision.
A surprise.
What story in these can be expressed in metal?
What structure fabricated by human hand
dares to inform the formless?
Can form create emotion?
Do I risk answers?
- Nancy Lee Digman

I’d like to share one final thought with you. In Ruth’s Song, I wrote about my technical challenges in the process of making my piece. Nancy had a similar experience with her beautiful window piece, “Walk in the Woods.” She decided to try to use one of my power tools - a hammer handpiece for the Flex Shaft. It was her first time driving a sports car at the bench. She was using it to set the beveled glass - the last step for this piece - because her bezel wall was quite thick. She had a little mishap in the final stages of her piece. She said something in her gut told her to stop a few moments earlier, but she continued, and consequently dismounted a stone that she no longer had access to for resetting. Oops. All work going on around her in the studio by the eight of us halted as we all rallied to address Nancy’s situation. All was resolved. Nancy tells me that she was touched that her classmates took on her share of the studio cleanup on the last day to support her by allowing her extra time to finish the piece after the mishap. But the thing that strikes me is that Nancy’s gut spoke to her. In this instance she chose not to heed (as I have also done many, many times), and well… in the end the piece survived and we all learned something. That internal sense of when to go and when to stop, how much pressure to apply, which tool to choose, and even when to walk out for coffee is something in our process as metalsmiths that simply cannot be taught. It grows more keen with years of practicing your craft, but it is instinctive. Intuitive. Born with you. Not born in you, but born with you. Nancy has it. Nancy speaks metal. I am proud to call her a colleague and friend.

In On Collaboration I wrote about working for the children. My other favorite client is the husbands.

What’s not to love? They come into the gallery with a clear expression of conquest on their faces, and yet, sometimes they do look lost. They are looking for something. But what? Something that will express to her how much he cares. Something personal. Something made just for her.

I’ve heard his words many times….

“She loves your work. You know what she likes, right?”

Or, “her birthday is coming up. She wears necklaces. What can we do?”

That’s my cue! Again, that’s how collaboration and commissioning jewelry works. The client is the one with the conquest. I’m just the one with the tools.

I completed a piece recently for a friend, secretly commissioned by her husband. It is to commemorate the celebration of her 40th birthday. In one of my initial conversations with her husband, who is also a friend, I asked him if he would prefer a piece that symbolizes the stages of her life up to age 40 or something that serves as a snapshot of her life at 40. He said, “Snapshot!”

They are blessed with three children, ages 12, 8 and 4. The bracelet is 14K Palladium White Gold and 14K Yellow Gold. There are 26 domed sections. On one end beside the clasp is her birthstone - a ruby. On the other end is his - a garnet. Two reds. When she puts the bracelet on, that act symbolizes the coming together of the two of them in marriage as the ruby and garnet are joined. The remaining 24 sections represent the children: 12 alexandrites for the 12-year-old born in June, 8 blue zircons for the 8-year-old born in December, and 4 amethysts for the 4-year-old born in February. Each section is a domed metal form, and the stones, in varying sizes, are almost never set in the center of one of these domes. They are set off to one side or the other, and I was struck by how much they seem to depict pots overflowing with contents. In the process of setting all these stones I began to think about these three precious children. They are friends, too, and I celebrate their lives and just simply how amazing they are. I was also overwhelmed by the concept of Divine provision, comfort and blessing. So, that’s why the piece is called “Cup Runneth Over,” - a reference to the 23rd Psalm.

Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over.

-Psalm 23:5