My name is Emily and I’m a six-months pregnant metalsmith.
Some days I get sick. Most days I get tired. Every day some body part I’ve never paid attention to screams out in pain, begging me to trade in my bench for my bed.
Still, I hammer on. Puns and all.
Other days, I’m feeling especially invincible and decide to take part in a three-person art show this coming May. I knew I had it in me to find clever ways around the toxins and fumes inherent in shaping metal into art. It started with a lot of piercing (hence the Morocco works), then I figured out how to outsource the dangerous steps (and here you have the Mountain ring), followed by fresh metal work and pretty stones (Space Jazz!), and rolling mill experimentation (my darling ponies and lovely plants). Now I’ve focused more to the line of my work that embraces art for art’s sake, and deeper meaning to both me and the person who ends up wearing it: secret garden cuffs.
They’re lovely on the outside with something secret and precious on the inside.
There is a step in making them that’s especially treacherous to those with child, but my fearless husband Brent has learned to etch like a pro. (By the way, do you know how hard it is to teach someone how to etch without etching?)
So, this May at Artists on Santa Fe gallery in Denver, expect to see a showing of fabulous new cuffs. Working within restrictions has turned out to be quite the inspiration for me, and I highly recommend it to anyone stuck in a creative rut.
It also helps to just hammer on.
Endless cuff sketches