Intellectual Bead Porn

Suzanne Golden Presents:
Interviews with 36 Artists
Who Innovate with Beads 

Of course, the artwork is beautiful. It would be easy to go through this book looking only at the photographs.

But it would be a mistake. A very big mistake.

After you've looked at every photo and drooled over the amazing and wonderful art that Suzanne has curated into her own personal gallery, go back to the beginning and read the text. There is as much here for the mind as for the eyes: you'll meet thoughtful, passionate and intelligent artists who work with beads for many different reasons. You'll be inspired by their words; by their choices, by the way they create and the way they live their lives.

Suzanne Golden

Suzanne has put together the perfect dinner party of bead artists; I would love to have all of them in the same room at the same time. I would even cook a multi-course feast for them, just for the pleasure of their conversation. (Though, if they brought their artwork with them, that would turn my imaginary party into a major event.)

If you know Suzanne, you'll recognize her style. Quirky. Fun. Colorful. Always surprising and interesting. Never predictable. If you don't know Suzanne, you'll wish you did. This book is one that will stay close to hand for a long, long, time; I'm quite sure that I will find something new to love about it every time I pick it up.

Heading into the unknown

The starting point for the Battle of the Beadsmith is rapidly approaching, and I'm beginning to think about what I want to make.

I don't draw out my designs, or plan in advance, but I do tend to have some sort of theme for my larger pieces; something that expresses how I feel, or what is happening in my life.

Last year, I was counting my blessings; I'd had some tough times, and was coming out the other side. I needed peace, and I spent my working time thinking about good friends, and about how much they meant to me. It was a time of quiet reflection, and I found the peace I needed.

This year, I think, it's about the journey. The road ahead, and the road behind me. There will be lace. And metal. And, of course, beads. Lots of beads. That's all I know right now, and I'm beginning to find the things I want and set them aside.

A lace-trimmed handkerchief. The inner workings of a watch. Thin gold lace yarn. A bag of baroque pearls. Crystals. Brass wire, wound into a coil, and hand-sawn into jump rings with my own hands. Steampunk. A future-fantasy with elements of the past.

Me: old enough to be an antique, but still dreaming about the future.

There are rules about these things

I like rules. I may not always follow them, I may even break them, but I like them. I like knowing the rules; I like knowing what is expected. I like the predictability of rules.

Strawberries in January? Nope, that's against the rules. Apparently my strawberry plants don't know the rules (or perhaps they just like breaking them); despite freezing nights and no cover from the elements, they're still fruiting. Not a lot; just a berry here and there, and don't they look funny amongst all the dead leaves. But there are new leaves, too; just a few, and I guess the daytime temperatures are warm enough to keep them going.

It takes a lot of hope to break the rules.

The river walk

Our town has been slowly creating a walkway along the Salinas River; it's a seasonal river that runs north through town over a fairly wide flood plain and the walkway has recently made it to the road that intersects with ours. There is water in the river right now, courtesy of our recent rains, and we decided to walk the new section last Thursday.

It was a cold, overcast day; the new part of the walkway isn't quite pretty yet, as it still shows the effects of the bulldozers that were used to carve it out of the side of the hill, but looking past that, the river and its surrounding area is the same as it ever was.

There has been an attempt to landscape around the path, but I didn't photograph that part. I like having a nice, wide, flat place to walk, but I'd rather keep my eyes on the wilder side of our town.

The Block

It happens.

It happened this morning: I woke up with nothing. No ideas, no "what-ifs" spinning their way delightfully through my mind, no beady imperatives at all. Nada. Nothing. Zilch.

That used to terrify me (who am I kidding, the terror is still there, just tempered a bit by many, many years of alternating cycles of barrenness and plenty), but I know that terror only aids and abets The Block, so I am determined not to give into it. I had a cup of coffee, read the comics, and crocheted a bit.

It was still there.

I tried humor. I went outside and took a picture of the block wall that squats heavily in my front yard, always visible through my studio window. It's a good, sturdy, thick, concrete block wall that keeps my neighbor's yard from slipping down into my house. It's a good wall. I hoped it would remind me that blocks can be used for good, or at least give me a laugh and enough lightness to let creativity back in.

Okay, taking a picture of a block wall wasn't as funny as I'd hoped it would be. So I tossed that puppy into Illustrator and used the flare tool on it. (I think I was hoping it would act like a ray gun and break the block in my mind.)

Rationally, I know that The Block will pass. It always has, there is no reason to think that it won't; but today it has sprung up solidly around me, and so has the fear that, this time, I won't be able to break out.