Talismanic Hinged Pendant Necklace

The concept of the talismanic hinged pendant is Tory Hughes'. She is, doubtless, the first person to have executed such an object in polymer clay.

My challenge was to think of a talisman and then to expand the pendant idea to an entire necklace related thematically and aesthetically. Next, I wanted to demonstrate sufficiency, at least, with the mechanics of the external hinge. And last, I wanted to utilize some of my collection of old trade beads in the project. This is the result. Because of the scarab motif, I've called this piece "Aida."

On the rear of the large pendant scarab is a nearly rubbed away OM symbol, lending to the talismanic aspect of the necklace. In Egyptian mythology, scarabs are linked to Atum, the bi-sexed creator god, and to the sun.

The OM symbol represents the Hindu Absolute, the omipresent, omipotent source of all.

The necklace and pendant are made of polymer clay. Each piece was rubbed repeatedly with various colors of acrylic paint and metallic powder, and then scratched, chopped, cut, and gouged to make it look very old and very worn. The hinges are made of aluminum wire painted with acrylic, and the beads are very old brass trade beads and commercial brass beads incised with a spiral, a very ancient symbol with multiple meanings including the path of Life (labyrinth), sun, hypnosis, galaxy, and, the dialectic process.

The disk at the top of the pendant and the two wedges in the bottom crescent represent carnelian. Used for the amulet Thet in ancient Egypt, carnelian was believed to protect the wearer from harm and to ensure safe travels and rebirth in the afterlife. The crescent represents the moon, the mineral silver, and Diana, goddess of the hunt.

We'll Be Here When You're Gone: Seeds and Pods of the Sonoran Desert

We'll Be Here When You're Gone: Seeds and Pods of the Desert Southwest. Polymer, acrylic, wire, fiber. August 2010.

I tell the story of this project in the sidebar to the left.

More Prickly Pear Pods

Learning About Forms

This is a Devil's Claw, a Sonoran desert seed pod. The challenges for me were its form and its texture. I addressed the form issues in several bakings, building a part at a time using wire armatures for the claws, hair-thin "feelers," and stem. I covered the claws and stem in polymer, and used only acrylic paint on the wires forming the "feelers." The texture issues I addressed by fine incisions and various indentations in the polymer. The pod was painted with acrylics and then baked. The organic pod is in the rear.

Lessons Learned

This fishook barrel cactus pod is eating my lunch. I'm now on Attempt Number 7. I'd have stopped at Number 6 except that it dawned on me to turn the thing around--rotate it 180 degrees--and look at its surface from a different perspective for a change.

Lesson: If you don't get it from this point of view, try that one.

It Ain't Pretty But It's Mine

I'm not writing here to edify or illuminate. I'm writing to document my process, hoping that it will turn out to be progress.

Some days that hope shines brighter than others.

Now I'm on the fourth iteration of a fishhook barrel cactus pod. For interested polymer clayers, I've learned more about translucent clay in this project than in all my past lives put together. I've learned that there are three rules for working with translucents: (1) Translucents burn faster, discolor easier, and throw more curves than other clays. (2) Always do a test piece before launching into a project. And (3) always do a test piece before launching into a project.

I give myself airs. A series? Yeah. Well but yeah. I don't mean I expect to show at the end of this creative phase. I mean that I intend to create a series of pieces unified by one concept worth, by my lights, pursuing. I'm not thinking about what happens at the end. I'm thinking about each piece. One at a time. Each one has my focus. I'm not thinking about what happens later. I'm drilling down, mentally and physically, studying the architecture, color, texture, rhythm, and function of each pod. It takes a kind of obsessive-compulsive mindset to do what I do. And that's OK.

I find myself slammed with the "real" world. Infobits congregate over my head and then hammer down on me like hail stones. Each one seem to think I, personally, am responsible for its safety in the archive of human knowledge, and most of them have some agenda that I, personally, am expected to accomplish. I know how miserable the Tamil boat people are, and how hideous it is that it took three months to reach Vancouver, BC, but I can't do one single thing about that.

A student once made anarduous trek to a Zen master for enlightenment. When he arrived, the master instructed him to return to his home, find a live goose and a big bottle with a narrow neck, and then to place the goose into the bottle without harming the goose or breaking the bottle. 

Five times the student trekked back up the high rocky mountain to the master, shamed to confess his failure to accomplish the deed. Five times the master sent the student home way to try again.

On the sixth try, the student returned to the mountain top,  lifted his face to his master, and said, "Master. This is my answer: It's not my goose, and it's not my bottle. Farewell."  And the master smiled.

This work is the antidote for me for the barrage of hail stones. Not that I am not committed to peace/justice and other priorities in my life, but that I've learned to honor my priorities and that focus is the only way I know to survive or to progress.

I'm not sure that many would concur that replicating the pod of a fishhook barrel cactus is worth much attention. To them, I would say that my priorities are mine, and repeat a phrase from the great Joan Baez: "I hope you can adjust." 

Trajectories and Other Tories

I am an artist.

I've always been an artist. It has just taken me a very, very long time to say so. I'm also an activist for justice, peace, and the planet, and a writer and editor, and a rescuer of Doberman Pinschers, a lesbian, a feminist, a traveler, a gardener, a nature lover, and a devoted lover of my family and friends. But at my core is artist. I can't not create.

You'd think that someone as aware of the power of words and as committed to coming out as I am, would understand the grim consequences of shying away from the word artist. You might think so, yet I'm just beginning to recognize them and now, joyfully, to see the changes in my life from saying that awe-ful word out loud about me.

One of the reasons I'm doing this blog is the hope that if I'm transparent about this aspect of my Self, and share my artwork, its progressions, and my thinking about it all, maybe others will find it just a little easier to claim the awesome power of that word for themselves.

How powerful is it? There's nothing wrong with thinking, but it's just one creative medium. Descartes should have said, "I create. Therefore, I am." How very different we would be if this were one of the pillar thoughts of the Western world!

Well, lacking the power to change the world, I must change myself instead. I've just begun.

I've just recently come to see, clearly, that we are all powerfully creative beings. If you doubt it, and particularly if you have a hunch that you are but are afraid to put on the word artist, please drop everything right this minute and go see Tory Hughes. I'll leave it to Tory to tell you in her own words who she is. As for me, Tory is the guide and the healer who first helped me break free of my fear of my own creative power, and then gave me the tools to free myself as needed, whenever fears beset me in my artmaking--or in any sphere, actually.

It's hard to write credible superlatives in a culture where praise is cheap. All the same, if it weren't for Tory's pioneering, world-class achievements as an explorer and artist, a healer, and a coach and teacher, and for a huge generosity of spirit that compels her to share all that she learns, a great many people all over the world wouldn't be doing what we are meant to do. So I begin, humbly and gratefully, with this acknowledgment.

I'll end this introduction with a word about the name of this blog: Handthoughts2. The quotation beneath the blog title explains the relationship between the name and artmaking. It comes from George Nelson Preston's African Art Masterpieces (1991). The 2 in the title refers to a forerunner, a now-retired website called Handthoughts that I once did about beads and beadwork.



One thing I strongly suspect: There are no "coincidences." In the tangled way of this life--and others, for all I know--I found African trade beads in the search for something meaningful and beautiful to use to embellish the saguaro cactus-rib walking sticks I made back in the day.  One thing led over time, ineffably and inexorably, to another, artmaking to beads to polymer clay to Tory and home, at last, to me: artist.

If you're here reading this, it's because I've invited you. I hope you'll enjoy it here, but just as much, I hope you'll share your trajectories with me, too. Thank you for visiting. Please come back.