custom.

It's a typical Thursday night - dinner's almost ready, the cat's been fed, and Ryan just walked through the door.  We're setting the table and just about to sit down to eat.
"I read your post today," he says.
"Oh yeah?"  I know he reads them, but he doesn't usually comment on them unless I ask about it.  "What'd you think?"
"Were you in a bad mood last night?" he asks.
"No, not at all.  Why?"
"It's pretty bleak," he says.
"Really?"  I'm kind of shocked.  "But is it good?"
"Well, it's kind of dark.  You talk about death."
"Yeah, but death is a part of life," I say.  "But is it well-written?"
"I'm not really sure if talking about death is a good way to sell jewelry.  And you're kind of doom and gloom about custom designs.  You don't even mention that those pieces were well received."
"Yes, but is it well-written?"  So I fixate. 
And Ryan sighs.
"Yes.  It's well-written," he says before stuffing a forkful of pasta in his mouth.

Even a well-written post can miss it's mark as the previous one has so obviously done.  Yes, it was intended to be dark but with a sense of humor.  And Ryan is right - I really should have focused more on how well those two custom pieces turned out as opposed to being all doom and gloom about the possibility of a difficult custom design, especially since that was really the only jewelry I made in the entire month of December...ahem, and in January, for that matter.  So let's take a closer (and more accurate) look at the beautiful pieces designed for my lovely friend, Julia.

I don't entirely remember how this conversation started.  Maybe I made some earrings with feathers or talked about it or she just saw the pictures posted on Facebook.  In any case, she approached me about making feather earrings to go with her New Year's Eve outfit.  She wanted something long - past her shoulders - mixing strands of chain with feathers.  "Sure, why not," I tell her.  It sounds fun - I'm sucker for anything chain heavy - and I've been wanting to incorporate feathers into my work for a while.  A few days later, Julia made another request:  a special statement piece for one of her closest, dearest, most best-est friends.  Sweet!  Statement pieces are fun - big, chunky, over the top - what's not to love?  The specifications were rather simple; use natural colors and/or elements, preferably a necklace, and avoid super sparkly or heavily chained styles.  No chains?!  WTH, does Julia even look at what I do?  Good thing I enjoy a challenge. 

So I started putting together ideas - Julia's NYE earrings were pretty straight forward and production went rather smoothly.  The only hang up was Dexter, of course.  Little squishy-squishy kitten face looooves himself some feathers.  I'd come home from work and find a row of feathers under the kitchen table, in the bedroom, or outside Ryan's studio.  It'd be one thing if I left my work on the kitchen table, but I don't.  It sits up on top of the fridge, along with the printer, some Mason jars, a few vases, and now, apparently, this guy. 
I found myself lacking motivation for the statement piece.  Maybe it was the holiday rush at work and feeling pressed for time, or maybe it was a mental block - no chains.   In searching for inspiration, I came across this beautiful little gem at one of my favorite Etsy shops.  Suddenly inspired, I knew what I wanted to work with.  Shells!  Glorious, overly inflated, beautifully iridescent shells paired with simple pearls and a few feathers for texture.  Pretty much perfect.

I brought the pieces to Julia.  I was delighted, Julia was thrilled, and on Christmas Day, her friend was ecstatic.

the "statement" piece



"in flight" NYE earrings



A(Nother) New Year.

Yes.  I know.  It's been awhile.  Maybe I should send flowers.  Or chocolates.  Maybe a card.  At the very least, an explanation.  And I could tell you all about how December is the worst month.  Ever.  And all the numerous reasons why I shut down physically, emotionally, and creatively during this time.  I could tell you all about how it starts early because my real job is in retail and how totally numb I am to the holiday spirit by the end of November.  I could tell you about what I do - processing and packing and shipping boxes and the gift certificates.  The handwritten, hand addressed, put in the mail non-stop flow of gift certificates, all day, everyday.  The invariable "Happy Holidays," "Merry Christmas" and "Happy New Year" or the "with all my love," "hugs and kisses, "xoxo," "see you next year" wears on one's soul after awhile.  Let's get creative people.  Really.

I could also tell you about my disillusionment - how one time Christmas meant something more than buy! buy! buy! and get! get! get! and stuff! stuff! stuff!  and how it used to be a time about peace and family and good will towards men, not consumerism.

I could also tell you about my grandfather's death and how the anniversary is 11 days before Christmas; the day before my grandmother's birthday.  I could also tell you about how it makes me think of my grandma and her own mortality.  That train of thought leads me to think about my family and how her death will effect an already tenuous and deeply fractured family structure.  I mean, I could tell you all about these things but if I really wanted to bore you with the mundane details of my life, I'd have a LiveJournal account.  But I don't.  So I won't.  But if reading semi-autobiographical fiction is your thing, be on the lookout for my side project, Defining Irony, in the not so near future.

But what does any of this have to do with jewelry?  Nothing, really.  There hasn't been much time (or energy) to create.  But there have been requests.  Requests for custom designs.  Fun.  I hear those words and immediately think of this. 
Custom designs are tricky - it starts out all fun and games then someone inevitably loses an eye.  Or something like that.  The buyer gives a brief and rather vague description of what they want and usually ends the conversation with "but do whatever you like - I trust your aesthetic and dig your style."  Cool.  So I come home and start planning and sketching and designing and I'm totally into it and I love it and I'm so proud and I can't wait to show it to them.  And then...

And then the piece is presented with a flourish, "ta-da!"  So proud, so excited, and it's so...quiet.  Like crickets quiet.  And the chatter starts: "yeah, but I was thinking more like..." or "that's nice, but could we maybe try..." or "oh, i didn't think it would look like that."  So much for my style and aesthetic, right?  But seriously, it's hard not to feel insulted in some way - maybe it's more hurt from an over-inflated ego being crushed.  All that talk about how awesome my work is that someone wants me to make something special just.  for.  them and then bam!  What I did is suddenly not good enough.  But this is really just a worse case scenario.  Thankfully, I haven't actually encountered it.  Yet.  But I still feel it's best for all parties concerned if their eyes light up and they squeal with delight over something I've already made.  But occasionally, I can be persuaded to make something custom.  For the right person.  Or the right price.

And in other news, the light box has been finished. What does this mean for Scarlet & Madrone?  More consistent photos, better quality photos (hopefully), and more listings of beautiful designs for sale here.