Letter From a Maker and a Co-curator
By Rebecca Scheer, Guest Curator
Dear Potential Wearer of Contemporary Art Jewelry,
The artists in this exhibition agree that jewelry means nothing without you. Your participation and your touch fully makes these objects both jewelry and art, fully makes them real in ways they can’t be behind glass display cases. That is why every artist in Touching Warms the Art has generously donated his or her work to the Museum, for your delight, pleasure, and provocation. This work was not made for “the body” in the abstract, as if it was just an idea. What the artists want, and are trying desperately to seduce with all their creativity, is not just any body – but yours.
Why is it so important that you actually wear the jewelry? Why can’t you just look at it? Sight has been the privileged sense in Western thought and culture for thousands of years, but many modern thinkers have questioned this distortion of our experience. “Only the distancing and detaching sense of vision is capable of a nihilistic attitude,” notes Juhani Pallasmaa, “it is impossible to think of a nihilistic sense of touch, for instance, because of the unavoidable nearness, intimacy, veracity and identification that the sense of touch carries.”1
Your touch endows the medium of art jewelry with latent powers unexplored by traditional artists. Among these powers is the mobility of the object. On you, jewelry quite literally travels places that art rarely does. This quality gives both makers and wearers of jewelry the potential to directly engage social environments in unexpected arenas. The simultaneous interaction between the object, the internal awareness of the wearer and the observations of the spectator is what gives jewelry meaning. At its core, jewelry is about relationships – between maker and wearer, object and subject, giver and receiver, individual and society, and a variety of private and public experiences.
But all of this interactive potential remains abstract unless you wear the jewelry. How often do you have that opportunity? In most exhibitions, labels read “Please Don’t Touch” or “Touching Harms the Art.” Curators must protect the artist’s precious materials and meticulously hand-worked craft, so the transmission/transformation is barely possible. The full experience of wearing art jewelry becomes the privilege of the elite. Some recent critics have suggested jewelry artists are working in a vacuum, that hardly anyone actually wears the work, and have pronounced the death of contemporary jewelry.2
With this exhibition, we put the experience of art jewelry into your hands where it can come to life. Artists were challenged to create works without using traditional jewelry materials, like gold, silver and stones, for entirely practical reasons. Preciousness – of value, craft, or rarity – was not allowed to be a barrier to your experience. The true value of the work in Touching Warms the Art is evident in dozens of innovative designs, imaginative (re)interpretation of materials, and in the sensory experience activated by your touch.
Because these artists knew they were creating for your very real body, many used particularly sensuous materials like fabric, felt and rubber, in distinctive ways. The hollow, natural rubber forms of Teresa Faris’ Bracelet #3 mimic human skin in color, jiggle and rebound. Sinuous tubes of ultrasuede and sand in Sandbags, by the designing Brothers Ladd, wrap around the body a bit like hugs. In one of the few uses of actual metal in this exhibit, Susan Kingsley captures the seductive qualities of art jewelry by attaching a steel meat cutter’s glove to a rubber cord in Handpiece. You must put it on to feel its weight, movement, how it restricts and how it caresses. Your emotional, visceral and physical experience is the message and the meaning of this artwork.
Some artists, like Mindy Herrin (Abstracted Fruit Necklace) and Eliana Arenas (Back Elongations, Full Body Elongation), have made the wearing of their jewels a theatrical event, with you as the main attraction. Maru Almeida substitutes felted wool in the iconic pearl necklace String of Pearls, with a dramatic shift in scale that heightens sensuality and awareness of the body by suspending massive pearls from neck to groin. Christine Dhein’s Strictly Rubber neckpiece envelopes the throat and cascades down the back with ticklish fronds of inner tubing. While these pieces challenge conventions of scale and materials, they perform an age-old function of jewelry: to make the wearer look and feel like the center of attention.
Other artists make significant demands upon you, the wearer, by referencing the body in unexpected ways. Will you put your fingers into Elizabeth Ryan’s human Hairball Collection rings or recoil in disgust? Will you attach Courtney Starrett’s hollow silicone Bubbles directly to your skin by suction, adding luminous, protuberant growths to your own body? Will you allow Masako Onodera’s Flesh Propagation or Masumi Kataoka’s Gut Ball to hang raw and bulging, turning your inside out? Can you imagine a trip to the grocery store in Natalya Pinchuk’s How Many Do You Have? dominating necklace of felt penises, an ironic trophy of manhood? Historically, jewelry has highlighted the décolletage, Rachel Kassia Shimpock uses your chest space to confront those who dare to look, in Show me yours… Within the safe walls of the museum these pieces titillate. Outside the museum, they could turn the wearer into a performance artist.
As if simply wearing jewelry wasn’t enough, several of the artists seized upon the unusual interactivity of the exhibit to give you something to do. Through a thoughtful combination of lead and leather, the Alma (Soul) Ring by Diego Bisso, allows the wearer to sculpt infinitely for the hand. Jennifer Crupi’s aluminum Gesture Cuff teaches awareness of a familiar defensive pose by visually and physically directing you into assuming that very pose. With modular pieces of acrylic and Velcro, Ana Cardim’s Swing Bracelet allows you to stack color and light in various configurations. Emiko Oye’s My First Royal Jewels Jewelry Collection: The Queen Margherita cultivates contemporary jewelry collectors of the youngest age group (or mindset), giving them the power to make multiple necklaces, bracelets and a brooch with the click of a Lego. Proclaim your commandments in magnetic letters in Jenny Campbell’s The People’s Crown, which crowns you as queen (or king) for a day. Long live the wearer!
Both the materials and the processes of making jewelry are democratized in this exhibit. What could be more empowering than knowing you can make fabulous jewelry out of practically anything? In Necklace 1, Heidi Gerstacker alters the lowly paperclip necklace into a form of simple beauty by obsessively wrapping each clip with thread. The stuff of bureaucratic nightmares becomes a dynamic bangle in Cynthia Toops’ Red Tape Bracelet. Clever recycling of soda bottles and other plastics allows Liaung Chung Yen (Changeability) to create rings with interchangeable inserts as beautiful as anemones. The minimalist, nylon thread drawings of Michelle Pajak- Reynolds (Drawing: Crimson #1, Drawing: Navy #1) treat the wearer’s clothes as a chalkboard on which to scribble.
It doesn’t take much to speak volumes when the art is this close to our bodies. Agnieska Zoltowski’s small and simple Untitled Plexiglas box with finger hole succinctly captures the spirit of the exhibition. The body in such a restricted space is absurd and slightly angry, flipping off the traditional museum display case. Another piece offering layers of discovery is Julia Barello’s Flowers of Rhetoric. You don’t need to understand the source material to enjoy the exuberant forms. But when realization occurs, the ghost of a delicate X-ray comments on the ephemerality of the body itself, and becomes a poignant reminder to enjoy and decorate our bodies while we have them.
In the imaginary world where the artist-philosopher rules, picture a traveling public library of jewels like those found in this exhibition, precious in their inventiveness, fascinating expressions of thoughts made real. The librarian would allow you to check out a piece only if you solemnly swore to wear it everywhere for 24 hours straight and describe the reactions you got at the carwash, the office, the movie theater. Did you feel silly, special, powerful, itchy, sexy, wistful, or burdened? Do tell, dear wearer. Makers have much to learn from your experience.
1 Pallasmaa, Juhani. The Eyes of the Skin: Architecture and the Senses. Chichester, England: Wiley-Academy, 2005, p. 22.
2 Staal, Gert. “In Celebration of the Street: Manifesto of the New Jewellery.” Metalsmith 27:5 (2007): 52–53