Precious little

It’s not every day that you meet someone so incredibly talented as Keith Lo Bue (a quite amazing American ‘˜jeweller’ now living in Australia), let alone have the privilege of attending one of his jewelry workshops. ‘˜Jewelry’, however, is hardly an adequate word to describe the sculptural pieces Keith creates.

It’s especially nice when you discover that he uses a Mac.

Pic of Keith at his Powerbook, with the lovely Amelia looking on

A week ago I attended a five-day workshop presented by Keith as part of the annual Brisbane Textile Artists’ Forum. The evocative title of the workshop was ‘Precious Little: Poetics of the Found Object’ … how could one resist!

I was both inspired and overwhelmed by the workshop and Keith’s work. Nobody so young (he surely can’t be more than 35) has any right to be so accomplished (he’s also a superb digital artist).

I’m not sure why, but I wouldn’t have expected someone who produces such non-traditional work to apply exquisite attention to detail, and with amazingly advanced ‘tooling’ skills. Extraordinary though that is, even more astounding is his ability to recognise the potential in unexpected objects (including people). What starts out as something most people would overlook (or even trash) ends as a precious object.

Those who participated in the workshop emerged with new eyes and new vision. A long-time scavenger, I have now graduated to super-scavenger (and I’m now on the lookout for a larger house).

A most rewarding week. I didn’t become a skilled jewelry maker, but I learned some surprising things about the inner processes of making art … and I put together a couple of pieces that pleased me. The emphasis was not exclusively on making wearable pieces … in fact only some of the pieces made during the workshop were wearable. Nevertheless, we were introduced to a wealth of useful (and transferable) jewelry-making techniques and given the opportunity to practise. Some practised more than others. We had to share tools you see, so the over-polite, non-assertive (contrary to what some here may believe), tool-challenged person that I am waited in the wings while more adventurous souls played with all sorts of daunting high-powered lethal weapons.

However, I know a lot more than I used to … about metal and glues and making rivets and ‘˜attack proof’ jewelry. John Farr told me this would come in useful when my car breaks down in the outback (must remember to carry a load of junk in the car).

Keith’s own pieces are full of mystery, with secret compartments and hidden surprises. I think of them as sculptural works of art rather than merely pieces of jewelry – many are too big for any but the most daring to wear (he wore a different piece every day). Yet he is capable of crafting exquisitely delicate pieces as well. It was reassuring to learn that Keith makes a full-time living out of this very ‘˜different’ work. Maybe I’ll make a fortune out of my matchbox art yet

As usually happens during creative work, I made some discoveries about myself – directly through the pieces I was making (I didn’t learn anything I didn’t already know, but the SIGNIFICANCE became clearer).

The first piece pictured below was the result of an exercise on the first day (yes, those are teeth on the bar).

 

I won’t tell you too much about the process in case someone reading decides to attend one of Keith’s workshops in America (which he presents regularly). Knowing the exercise in advance would give you an unfair advantage and spoil the fun. Suffice it to say that, using randomly selected ‘˜found objects’, we were required to make a ‘wearable’ object (ie one that wouldn’t fall off the body) WITHOUT using glue.

After the first day, there were no more material restrictions (other than ‘˜don’t use glue if you can possibly avoid it’). We were to do some sort of autobiographical piece. As I’ve been on a life-reflecting exercise for years, this was actually a bit intimidating, for I had too much choice … which of the many aspects of my life would I focus on? And which of the trunkload of ‘interesting objects’ I’d brought from home would I use?

Keith suggested that we just pick a few items we especially liked from our collection, and see where they led us.

After considerable musing, I narrowed it down to a small group – a cut crystal bead that broke off a necklet, two quartz crystals, a couple of timber beads that have always been too big for anything else, a little glass box picked up in an Indian shop, a butterfly which used to be part of a hairclip, and a portrait of myself taken on my first trip to Europe 35 years ago. I gazed at them for quite a while, but nothing suggested itself. “You just have to wait,” said Keith.

Absentmindedly, I picked up an old gold ring which belonged to my beloved grandmother, thinking I would dangle it from something. But then I noted that, because it had lost its stone, it would fit over the top of the crystal bead ……. and from then on the thoughts started to flow.

The ‘story’ (encapsulated in the small concertina book I made to put inside the glass box) used my grandmother as the focus.

I assembled it all inside an old tobacco tin, drilled holes in hidden places, tied everything down with brass wires, and added a couple of rivets. Only ONE bit of glue was used … under the butterfly.

 

Ultimately, I was very satisfied with my piece … despite the wobbly rivets and imperfectly formed hanging wire (I think it suits the old rusty tin, don’t you?).

I’m not sure which direction my art will take now, but I’d like to find a way to meld artist-book making and metalsmithing. Give me a year or two – I’ll think of something.
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Check out Keith Lo Bue’s work at http.www.lobue-art.com and http.www.lobue-digital.com

FOOTNOTE (for those interested in woo-woo): The interesting thing is that, several weeks ago, I had a dream in which I put an old song inside a box. I had completely forgotten that, but when I came to write a story to go inside my little book, I began with a song my grandmother used to sing to me … ‘You are my sunshine’. Isn’t that a nice touch?