as a fourteen year old; do you remember stealing a pair of fish-nets from your mom? do you distinctly remember that you snagged them on purpose? maybe you did not yet sense the implications….
you were very fortunate. you engaged with imperfection daily. you were allowed to embrace the run, tear, stain…you wore old slips and army boots, you created a cult of anti-beauty and awkward juxtapositions….fully knowing that it was all, essentially beautiful. you were sincere in your love of the crooked, the unaligned and unsanctioned…. of ripped nylons and rusted chains….and their aesthetic qualities; highlighted by unfamiliar contexts.
you earned the right to look imperfection squarely in the eye and adore it’s intrinsic nature as an essential quality of high art.
………
the bits and pieces of broken jewelry that have come to our studio were all, once, purchased or given, for the love of the object itself…. here we have something much more tangible than nostalgia….we have history. we have beauty. if the missing stones, patinas of age, lingering scents and unmatched pairs do not qualify as material in their own right; they may re-emerge within the structure of a new context; as beautiful and whole.
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