Category: art

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a graceful acceptance of change

rick-owens_020_aw16-80d0e8571c9b04d52c794bdb627c284eI just read Tim Blank’s elegant and eloquent review of Rick Owens’ RTW Autumn 2016 show, and it once again reminded me about why I love Rick Owens and his unique vision so much. Owens locked himself in his studio and created a collection that, “would look like it was evaporating,” to paraphrase Blanks.

What got my attention in Blanks’ review was Owens’ statement, “It’s reassuring that I’m not going to die, that I’m going to become part of everything and everything is a part of me.” While I am not a religious person, and only vaguely spiritual, the idea of a constant continuum that spreads before us but is in constant flux and never completely dissipates is compelling. That we humans are simply another animal, a collection of carbon that emerges from this, and passes back into it, and that life is simply another stage of this cycle, to be savoured for sure, is a good reminder of why I do what I do.

Change is indeed a constant, but, when guided by awareness, can be managed and even celebrated, much as my man Rick has done.

Plus ca change!

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One Man, Five Designers

I am just getting round to posting about Guy Trebay’s interesting article in the NYT on January 8. You can access it here:

One Man, Five Designers

In it, in the service of “intensive” investigative reporting, he subjected himself to wearing 5 “outfits” (my term) by 5 very different designers over what appears to be a period of a few weeks. What results is, from what I gather, the psychological equivalent of whiplash, as he dons “notice me but not too much” Ralph Lauren togs that are intended to bespeak a quiet and very expensive elegance, and then goes to “11” by veering toward the pee-wee herman-esque ridiculousness of Duckie Brown and Thom Browne.

In his article, he talked about the phenomena that psychologists refer to as “enclothed cognition,” wherein, upon enveloping oneself in a certain bit of cloth, one can “become” a person who that person believes personifies a certain gestalt, or, to put it less pedantically, or more accessibly, ” Style is a way to say who you are without having to speak,” as Rachel Zoe says. Based on my own experience, I would paraphrase that to say, “style is a way to say who you want to be to others without having to speak.”

How many of us have purchased a perfect coat or shoes, expecting them to somehow transform our lives, get a better job, a raise, recognition. . .laid?

As I am building my brand and crafting pieces, this is something I am trying to bear in mind, and harness. When someone buys a piece of my art, what emotional triggers are driving the purchase? A memory of a particularly meaningful exhibition? A walk on the beach? A walk in the English Countryside with Isabella Blow on some bizarre “hunting” party?

Will he/she become bolder? More beautiful? More serene?

When they put my piece on, will they be transported? I certainly do hope so. . . .

more. . .

to come. . . .I hope

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10% happier and Rothko

rothko_no_14

Anyone who knows me knows I love serendipity—little connections between disparate things that somehow make sense. I am going to propose a new connection—meditation and Mark Rothko.

On Sunday I started to use an app, suggested by my mate, called “10% Happier.” It’s developed and supported by a local company, the Change Collective, based in Cambridge, which always makes me happy to shop local.

As I was practicing my meditation this morning, I started to think about the strange but lovely sensation of vibrations like I was flying on a magic carpet. This being meditation, my mind wandered a little bit, until, of course, a soft voice reminded me to focus on breathing (thank you, Joseph!). In that short time, however, I experienced a vibration between my eyes—and no, I was completely straight—and I realized that it reminded me a day, about 22 years in my past, when, visiting dear friends in London, I went to the newly completed Sainsbury wing at the Tate. It’s hard to describe using language what I felt when I walked into this darkened chamber, lit lowly, but enough to help my eyes differentiate the amazing, 1-story tall Rothko paintings. The colors on the dark fields seemed beyond pigment, and to vibrate intensely as if aliens from space were trying to communicate through them. It was a transcendent experience. I stood for a period of time that I cannot recall. I could not look away, and yet, when I finally did, I sobbed quietly, collected my bag, crumpled on the floor, turned, and silently floated away back into the maw of the Tate.

So, no, this is not a sales pitch for 10% happier, or even meditation, but maybe next time you are in front of a Rothko, you may consider meditating. I am sure Joseph would approve.

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Creative destruction

With all due respect to Schumpeter, and not withstanding the acrobatics of the Tsipiras government, I decided to engage in some creative destruction myself last week. Behold, the process.

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Step 1: The Patient. I made the necklace above, intended to be inspired by Noguchi. So far, so good. Laying flat, it was fine, but hanging, it kind of did weird things and looked nothing like my vision, so, onto Step 2.

IMG_0092Step 2: Sundering. I cut the joining rings away and then cut the chain off.

IMG_0093Step 3: refinish and refine. So, here’s where I had to figure out what they should be. I had a cuppa and sat and stared. Then, of course, the obvious came. Earrings—very seventies.

IMG_0094Step 4: Soldering. I had to fill the holes that I had used to join then so I inserted rods of fine silver and soldered them into balled ends, and they now kind of “float” above the plate. This was my attempt at motion—a la Calder.

IMG_0095Step 5: Finished. These are the finished earrings with the new floating solder balls and posts for pierced wearing. See below to see them on—a blurry selfie. A lot of fun destroying and creating, I must say.

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Tina

tina chow 5images.duckduckgo.comOne of my inspirations for jewelry is Tina Chow. I was just a kid when she was big. I actually found out about her through reading Grace Coddington’s autobiography, as Grace was friends with Michael Chow.

Tina was an original, for sure. Half German-American and half Japanese. She wasn’t complacent, even though she could have just coasted on her looks alone. She started making her own jewelry in the 70s. I love the architectural references, and the geometry in her art, and the way she used so many different kinds of media and made it work. I am sad to hear that she died from AIDS at the age of only 41. Her legacy lives on. I like to think some of my stuff is inspired by her unique vision.

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Paul Weller and the Art of Wabi-Sabi

I was lucky enough to see Paul Weller in his latest incarnation on Saturday night. His rise in The Jam and longevity in general, as a musician, artist, and taste maker, is well-earned. What I have always loved about the punk movement is the way it broke free of the dynamics of the music industry at that time (1970s), when Colonels and Kings “made” and “broke” bands and sounds by manipulating the public’s perception of what it should listen to by buying airtime and buying off DJs.

Punk was messy, but it was egalitarian, and possessed the patina of sweat and excreta that was undeniably real, and hand made—Wabi-Sabi, if you will. Perhaps Paul Weller and his mates, Malcolm, and Vivienne were the original western practitioners of Wabi Sabi—re-branded as DIY. If so, I am more than happy to follow in their footsteps, knowing that the time, patience, and integrity I try to imbue my art with is real, and not predicated on a marketing genius’ “vision” of what the public wants.

And yes, Paul and the band were wonderful, glorious, messy, sweaty, and had 4 encores, ending, appropriately, “A Town Called Malice,” a thoroughgoing rejection of Thatcherism, which, you may argue, hastened the demise of “old” England and the rise of a more monochrome, disney-fied version we know today.

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Hundertwasser!

huntertwasser

My daughter Francesca is studying the art of Austrian artist and architect Friedensreich Hundertwasser in school. I must admit that I had never heard of this amazing person before encountering her vibrant painting inspired by his work (above), and her enthusiastic articulation of his name—Hundertwasser!—always with an exclamation point—real, or implied.

Born jewish, he suffered under Nazism and joined the Hitler Youth as a subterfuge and means of staying alive. In later years he became a passionate advocate of individualism and bold, bright colors, and raged against the monotony of standardization and mechanization. Sounds like my kind of guy—a proto Wabi-Sabi. He was also an early environmentalist—into composting toilets—and developing mixed-use housing and encouraging “spontaneous” vegetation.

His architecture looks somewhat Gaudi-esque. I love the organic shapes and unrestrained colours. I think I have found a new inspiration.

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Talitha and Solar

turquiose and silver stacked ringThe other day I wrote a post about Talitha Getty and how her style influenced my designs. As the days get longer and the season tips to summer, I like nothing better than to sit on my deck and sip a lovely, racy Rosé from Provence and dream that I am wearing a caftan made by YSL himself and sitting on my roof deck in Marrakech. While that’s unlikely, I am enjoying the new ring, Solar, I just made. These days are made for Rosé and rings!

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Inspiration: Talitha Getty

talitha_gettyI don’t know much about Talitha Getty except that she appears to have lived life full throttle and suffered a tragic end. Her life was messy, but somehow she wore it well. These days she is frequently evoked as the seventies appear to be having a but of a renaissance of sorts. I love this picture of her with her “armour” of jewelry, especially the bracelet. When I think about what I want to make and who might wear it, I hope that someone like her might appreciate it.

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