Value(s)

I'd like to take a minute to post a comment on the 'value' of the antique materials I use in my work. I'm moved to do this after finding some very pointed and disparaging words about desecrating valuable, historic antiques. Seems the manuscript page employed at the end of the creation of my recent piece "The Diary of An Antiquary" (here) really brought the fangs out on a few folks. I was even accused in an offhand way of stealing them from a library.

I was given about 10 pages of this book from a student about 8 years ago. This student had purchased the book, in a very broken state (binding in tatters), at a flea market in eastern Europe. She had said there at the time that books of that vintage were not hard to find in various junk shops and markets.

The point of my post is that I never use objects or printed material that have a high value as a museum-grade material - many of the bits and pieces are found in dismantled condition. Just because it is illuminated manuscript does not instantly qualify it as a treasure to be enshrined in a museum. Their value as a material for re-interpretation, however, is priceless for me, as I believe firmly that by incorporating them into new works they can be elevated in a different way and begin their new life as a work of art.

Perhaps not surprisingly, these comments were made on a 'steampunk' forum, which is a fad that has cropped up in recent years that I find to be much more aligned with prop-making, fashion and set-design than the direction of what I make. To be fair, some comments were in support of what I'm doing, but for the others the idea of using a real antique just isn't part of the steampunk ethos.

If you're interested in reading the commentary, you can find it here.

In my work, to use a copy of the image or object is to miss the point of their presence in the first place - they are used because the object or image ITSELF has been through its own history. It is this accumulated, real history that I hope invests my artwork with its power.

I'd love to have a dialogue about this - anyone?

Keith

Endings, beginnings

My visit to the US is nearing completion; I head back to Sydney and family on Tuesday for a long-overdue reunion. It has been a phenomenal experience this time 'round; extended visits with my parents and siblings made it soul-satisfying - not to mention highly unusual - as normally my teaching schedule is pretty unrelenting during my time in the US.

But it was professionally eventful as well. Teaching at the lovely 'Art Is You' event in Connecticut, lecturing to the excellent graduate metals students at East Carolina State University, under the virtuosic hands of Bob Ebendorf; lots of inspiration flying around for those days.

This past week has seen two exciting developments for me. First was the new acquisition by the MAD Museum (Museum of Arts & Design) in New York of my 2004 neckpiece 'RETROSPECTION'. Following on the heels of being published in Ursula Ilse-Neuman's beautiful book 'Inspired Jewelry from the Museum of Arts & Design', it's a wonderful opportunity for my more recent work to be viewed by a larger audience. The neckpiece will make its public debut at the museum in November of this year. The second remarkable event has been the purchase of my newest piece 'THE DIARY OF AN ANTIQUARY', also seen in progress in the previous 4 postings below. It couldn't have gone to better owners.

I'm looking forward to getting back into my studio in November and continuing to explore all these new avenues that my recent work has laid the groundwork for. So stay tuned.

Cheers,

Keith

The Diary of an Antiquary, Part 4

Let's bring this piece to a close with this last epic posting. The enclosure more or less finished, I measured out the interior space to come up with the dimensions of the book (this ass-end-up retrofitting is just my style!).

I settled on this gorgeous leather cover from 1852 as my raw material for the final covers.


It was exciting to see the empty space occupied at last, if even for a moment.


Beginning the long process of cutting out the book pages in heavy gauge brass.


The raw elements stacked up, giving me a general feel for the proportions.


Each 'page' would consist of two plates of brass, riveted together, with elements trapped in the sandwich. Above, my three pages and covers.


Because of the substantial weight of these plates, I knew they would have to be pierced quite a lot to eliminate all that metal. The designs are loosely based on medieval iron grillework.


The six sheets taped together, forming 1/2 inch of solid brass. The holes for my sewing stations would have to be drilled through all at once.


The first page takes rough shape - the early part of twelve hours of very difficult sawing.


With throbbing hands, I examine the cut sheets of brass.


Couldn't resist making an ice-cream sandwich of it to see what it looked like, as I knew it wouldn't be so transparent once the elements came together.


A cacophony of grilles.


Now each sheet was shaped.


Page one, getting close. The three pages took three days to complete the metalworking.


Now for the really fun part of creating the visuals behind the metal. Sheets of mica would keep the pieces in check under the grilles. Here, Mrs. Col. Wm. Douglas lends her face to the cause.




An 18th-century engraving takes center on the other side.




The elements taking their places.


The smallest rivets I've ever made. Chalk up another first.


Carving space into the front cover for a pearl.


The window would allow Mrs. Douglas to peer through when the book was closed.


Page three metalwork.


Mica measured and cut to size.


On to the binding. For this stage I have Keith Smith to thank, for his excellent book 'Smith's Sewing Single Sheets', which was my manual for this part. I built this frame to hold the raised cords of the binding upright for easier sewing. The frame is about half the size Smith laid out - plenty of size for a miniature book, however!


Ready to sew the bottom page on.


Second page gets added...


The book block ready for some covers.


This part was seriously daunting. The cords are 7 strands each of heavy antique linen, as I wanted a chunky profile for the spine.


The cord unwound and poking through the cover - now each strand needed to be frayed to lay flat against the inside cover for gluing...


...like so.


The back cover with frayed threads ready to be glued in place and covered with end paper.


The front cover was even more difficult due to the window. Note the recessions cut in to allow the thread to lay flush on the board.


Exsquisite end paper from the 1860's to paper over the thread.


The book needed a closure, so I fiddled about until I came up with the solution. I would use this old fork, dug up in England as my material.


Brittle and fracturing even after annealing, but it held strong - I even liked the cracks, so away we went.


Part of the business end would be used as well.


Before soldering together.


Terrifying task #4,360: putting a large hole into a finished book, to create a strong metal tube that would allow the mechanism to move without damaging the fragile book board.


As the book, now completed, got attached permanently to the enclosure via a long chain, I needed to scoop out recesses in the box to accomodate the protruding clasp.


Last step was creating a visual interior for when the book was removed from the housing. The gem for this job was the left-hand side of this awe-inspiring page of illuminated manuscript from the 1500's. It was given to me along with some others by a generous student (is that Ukrainian, I seem to remember? Anyone?). It seemed a fitting treasure see when the box was open.

Thanks for walking with me through this important piece in my output as a maker. This post is a week later than I thought, as it took an entire week to photograph the finished piece.

Which you can see here.

Hope you've enjoyed the ride - I know I have.

The Diary of an Antiquary, Part 3

Welcome back. This third post in the in-progress series of the making of The Diary of an Antiquary begins with the construction of the chain structure for the hinged box, that by this point I had decided would house a handmade book. My plan was to make it worn very low, at or below the waist, to recall the girdle books from centuries back, albeit in a very different form. Although at this stage the book had yet to be made (I'd cross THAT bridge...) I did envision that the book would be removeable from the box, but chained to it, and so married to the holding structure.

In imagining the chain for this piece, I began to mull over different materials than I was used to working with for this purpose. I'm not sure what got me thinking about wood, but soon I was readying to try whittling a 'whimsy' - the age-old practice of carving shapes in wood that was often mastered by sailors on their long voyages. I have a few antique examples - both are cages that contain balls that move inside them, carved from a single piece of wood. So I began by choosing a length of wood that would lay over the shoulder and neck (I wanted the piece to be worn not like a necklace but over the shoulder like a handbag). This first group of images shows the links being created from a strip of maple. I didn't photograph the wood before I began cutting, but it was a rectangular block that I then rabbeted out along its length as shown.






The links are now roughed out in size.




Removing wood from the interiors of the links.


A big moment is when the first link comes free...


...and can be shaped.


Working along the length, shaping them as I go.


The links ready to be painted.




A short video of the aftermath.


Painting the chain to harmonize with the box.


Next came another part of the chain - which would be straight bars, with decoration turned into them - to hang along the length. Here the brass segments have been hardened and textured and are ready to be sized and turned.


Cutting large steel jump-rings to use as the bulk of the chain.


The long links finished and ready to integrate with the steel chain.





Wood, brass and steel rubbing elbows.


Getting the length established, I snap myself in the mirror with the piece on.


Then I find a much more attractive model (in-house, of course!).






At this point it occurred to me that I would like to have the box mounted on a stand, so it could be elegantly displayed when not worn (because of the design thus far, it wasn't able to stand upright on its own).


As a base, I settled on an antique Indian candle-holder of cast brass and cut it apart.








One of the very few solder joins in this piece being prepared.


Fabricating little posts to protrude from the bottom of the box, to straddle the bar of the stand.


The posts installed on the box.


The stand completed (the horizontal bar is wrapped in 1920's linen thread, which I'll use much more of later).


Small 'claws' grip the posts on both sides of the box...


...and the posts, seen from the back here, keep the piece stable.


Now there were absolutely no more excuses for pushing the book until later - it was time to tackle it. The home was ready for its occupant.

So I plunged nose-down into Keith Smith's excellent book 'Smith's Sewing Single Sheets' and got my head together to try another first for me - fabricating and binding a book.

Stay tuned for the next and final post, which will see the piece to completion.

KL