Tractors and Translating and Tanzanite

My life right now! I am working on a custom tanzanite and white gold ring for a client-friend. It is a piece for her daughter, using a stone bought when my client was in Tanzania a decade ago, a gift to commemorate her daughter graduating high school and celebrating a birthday.

It's been a massively challenging piece to make. Lots of very small scale complex curves. It's hard to make thick wire do what you want it to when you are working tiny. You need lots of leverage. Also rectangular stones are by far the hardest to set in my opinion. So much precision. So much laser-focus measuring and cutting. And the soldering setup. OH, the soldering setup is so hard. But it is a wonderful way to continue developing my skills. Nothing like a project that twists your brain and challenges your endurance and ingenuity. It's nearly done. Yay.

When I'm not in the studio, I'm working as an in-person Portuguese interpreter here in the Bay Area. Mostly it's accompanying families on their children's medical appointments (well-child visits, cardiologist, dermatologist, endocrinologist, etc) but this last week I interpreted at a special needs school for 8 different people (school principal, student's father, teachers, county mental health representatives, occupational therapist) as they went over the student's annual progress, academic performance, behavioral issues, and goals for the next year. It was intense and high-level interpreting, as people were presenting formal reports and recommendations. All my experience writing business plans and donor reports was useful, as there is a similar vocabulary to talk about goals, recommendations, and evaluations across sectors.

Also in a throwback to Mozambique, I am doing written translations for an agricultural project in the Northern part of the country. I'm grateful that while translating on-the-ground in Moz, I took the time to put together a vocabulary dictionary with regional specifics and reminders to myself of particularly hard-to-translate expressions. I'm definitely using that to remember the local terms for things like "weeding," "mechanized land preparation," and "demand," all the while learning new things about field preparation and the benefits of using tractors and disking and improved seeds. Very interesting, and thankfully so far the source texts have been very well-written, which makes translating so much smoother!

Ok. Back to work. Time to set the tanzanite.

Pop-Up Recap

Carolyn and I had a great pop-up on Saturday, attended by friends, family, and lots of new faces. Thank you to everyone who came out.

I'm emerging from a period of severe burn-out, and it's a welcome feeling to want to be in that space again, to want to show my work again. I am particularly excited about how the gallery is looking these days. Lots of color and flowers and patterns and texture. And finally the mix of paintings and jewelry is making sense. A final bonus is that Carolyn's jewelry mixes in so well with my paintings, and complements the assortment of wearable pieces that I have in stock as well. Yay all around.

Here are some photos from the beginning of the pop-up, with everything nicely displayed and ready for visitors.

It's a Pop-Up!

Munich-SFO

The last time I was on this flight from Munich to San Francisco I sobbed silently at takeoff.  Not because of fear of flying, which I definitely suffer from, but because I was hit with a wave of emotion and in that instant I knew my relationship was over. No more pretending an alternate destiny was possible, no more head in the sand. I had gut-level certainty that the next step was a breakup, a chapter change, and the pain that comes when a love that once flourished must be laid to rest. I was grateful when the seat belt sign was turned off and I could go to the lavatory for a real ugly cry, with nobody around to witness my scrunched up face or hear my wailing.

That was in March, nearly four months ago. Now it is the last day of June and I am on the same Lufthansa flight headed home from spending some time in Italy at my grandmother's house. I cried again, but only because I watched an inspiring film (Joy with Jennifer Lawrence). It's amazing how much has changed in this short period, how different I feel.

Unlike the last time I was on this flight, I am not dreading coming back to California (even though I know divorce papers and the slog of moving my things from one space to the next await me). I also don’t wish I had stayed in Italy, although it was tempting to extend my trip after a successful beta experience of organizing wine and culinary tours with a childhood friend and a fabulous group of ladies as guests. It’s nice to feel a balance of saudades for the place I am leaving and the place that is my next destination.

I see myself coming into a new phase: one of being single and independent, having multiple jobs I create for myself, and with no clear primary residence. I’ll be bouncing between the Bay Area (the work-live artist space I’ve created in the basement of my mom’s house), the Italy-Slovenia border region (where my grandmother was from and her big, uninhabited property awaits its destiny), Houston (where my best friend lives), New Mexico (my dad’s place), and who knows where else in between. I envision lots of geography, lots of change, wearing lots of hats. Just how I like it.

I am trying out the elevator speech about my life as I meet people on the plane: “I am a jeweler, artist, translator, traveler, writer, and dancer.” Yes, all of those things together in one complex ball of self-employment and creativity and travel. Interdisciplinary, interconnected, international. Untitled for the time being. Following my gut. Seeing where the road takes me.

Where I Started and Where I am Now

Getting ready to cross the bridge-less Rio Lucite in Manica Province, Mozambique. 2005.

I started this blog in 2005 while living in Austin, Texas. I was about to move to Mozambique to work as a freelance consultant with some friends I'd met while in business school in Brazil. (There's a lot of geography in my life story!)

Initially my blog was a way for me to keep in touch with family in friends while in Africa, but it soon became much more. I met hundreds of people through my writing, many of whom were also moving to Mozambique and looking for support, many of whom became friends.

Over the years I chronicled my work in international development, my growing passion for making jewelry, my marriage in 2008, our move to California in late 2009, my decision to apply to art school and change careers, my experience starting my own business, and now the most recent chapter: my life as a single person, with many exciting unknowns, lots of travel, and a heart full of love to share with the world.

Contemplating what's next while on the ferry from Isla Mujeres to Cancún, Mexico. 2016.

Spending in Check

Before traveling to Italy earlier this year, I took the steps any savvy traveler does and cleaned out my wallet. I removed all crap I usually carry around (multiple cards, memberships, coupons) and pared it down to one main credit card (with no foreign transaction fee), a backup credit card, and a debit card.

I distinctly remember removing my business credit card and placing it somewhere "safe" in our house, thinking, "I'm going on vacation and have zero intention of doing anything professional, so I won't need this baby for sure," and then putting the card in a drawer or something. Upon returning from that trip, I scoured all my usual hiding spots to no avail. I couldn't find my card anywhere.

Part of me thought I should call the bank and report it lost, but the task of updating all my saved payment info and linked accounts seemed too daunting at the time. I was fairly certain I'd find it, and there had been no strange charges that might indicate the card was in someone else's hands, so I just let it be. 

That was about three months ago, and my business credit card still hasn't turned up and I still haven't requested a replacement. Why? It's been the absolute best thing ever to reign in my spending. The card is still connected to my most essential vendor sites, so I know I can purchase jewelry supplies if I need to. But it's not available in-hand for impulse buys, and the effect has been astounding.

My average monthly spending used to be in the thousands, and I would frequently carry over a balance (and pay interest, booooo). The past three months my balance has been zero, zero, and $16.85. Granted I have a good inventory in place and lots of extra supplies lying around...but it's incentive to use what I have and only buy that which is really, truly necessary - using cash.

I won, baby!

Right and Ruined

I've been working on my next body of work, the ruin-ruin again-ruin again concept. Here is a painting that started as a colorful, abstract thing I really liked. Then I ruined it with some dried acrylic pieces attached with woven silver wire. Now I'll ruin it again with these strands of seeds (they're just placed on the painting right now so I can get an idea of composition).

After writing the other day, I went ahead and sent my notice to the Point to Point crew that I won't be able to help organize the next event. It feels good to prioritize my own creative work. As I said in my letter to them, strike while the iron's hot.

It felt good to step back. Even better has been making contact with two new artists in the neighborhood who want to get involved in Point to Point. I love how the ebb and flow of organizers and participants seems to be working as intended. In our original concept, Point to Point will hopefully become a self-sustaining event. Step up when possible, step back when needed.

On Point

Once again I'm reminded that the things I'm good at aren't always the things I want to spend my time doing. Back in Moz, this was the conclusion I came to about writing proposals for development projects. I could write a kick-ass proposal and get projects funded, but I always felt sick and burned out (when doing the work, as well as in general). When you are self-employed, your work affects your person so much.

Now, I'm feeling sick and burned out again. When this happens, it's time for an adjustment. Sometimes it's in the life side, sometimes in the professional realm, more often both.

I've been doing a lot of travel recently - two weeks ago Rico and I went to St. John in the US Virgin Islands for the wedding of my longtime friend Mark (who was also one of our groomsmen, and met his girl when he went traveling after attending our wedding in Rio). I also went to Albuquerque to hang out with my dad for a lighting quick couple of days. Then over the weekend my best friend Angel came to Casa Cali with her man, and we celebrated her birthday and went wine tasting in Sonoma. In all, a solid period of vacation with a couple manic work days tossed in the mix.

It gave me time to think. I managed to figure out what's got to give, and now I have the task of making those changes. Not always fun, but feels so good afterwards.

Over the last year I've been co-organizing a community arts event called Point to Point Richmond. It has been an incredible grassroots experience, and I've met so many of my fellow artists here. I've put a huge amount of volunteer energy into launching Point to Point, and for that I have no regrets. But I'm at a point (ha, ha) where the balance is off, it's taking my focus and my time away from the work my gut is demanding be made. So I am majorly stepping back.

I feel strongly that it's time to be in my studio. I've received many custom requests for jewelry pieces and repurposed heirloom work, and I'd like to be able to say yes to those. I am also wanting to paint more, and do figure drawing, and experiments with enameling. I want to make weird work, wall pieces that I deliberately ruin, and then ruin, and then ruin again and see what's happened. I want to work with the rusted railroad steel I collected here at Ferry Point. Practice my sketching.

When I feel a gut-level pull to the studio that can't be ignored, I know it's not just about the work. It's connected to personal growth, relationships and decisions outside the studio. Diving into the art helps me take the steps I want to in life.

I want to have art dates with my friends. I want lazy weekends where I can sit around and do nothing, but also get laundry done and some prep cooking for the week. I want to train with Hilary for another 10k, and then possibly a 10 mile run next year. I want to hang out with family, and also to travel. Reclaim our yard. Design a churrasqueira with Rico. Take a nap every once in a while.

The exciting thing to me is that I believe I can do these things and also my studio work. Having the gallery open fits in, too, as long as I have some help. But all of this plus major community organizing does not add up. Actually, I guess it over-adds up because the feeling is a whirling, unfocused cloud of pending stuff. Overwhelm for sure. So it's time to take a step back, and deal with all the feelings and fallout that come with that. Hopefully it will be smooth, and if not, at least lead to some interesting art.

The Paradox of the Positive Front

Year one of my creative business was all about projecting a successful image. Call it "fake it 'till you make it", call it the Secret principle...the basic idea is the same: having an optimistic perspective while you bridge the gap between where you start and where you want to end up will lead to a positive outcome. Present yourself as successful, the world sees you as successful, treats you as successful...and hopefully one day your own perception follows suit as a new reality unfolds.

Over the past year I have been asked countless times:

- So, how's it going?
- Have you been busy?
- Are you getting lots of foot traffic?
- How are sales?
- Did you get a lot of people buying for the holidays?

Usually these questions have come from well-intentioned, curious people wanting to be supportive. Regardless of how things were actually going, or how I felt on any given day, the answer would always be the same:

- It's been going really well, thank you. (accompanied by a humble smile)

Sometimes this response felt totally accurate, other times it felt like the ultimate false front. But no matter. I would always answer with the same optimistic vibe of success.

I truly believe that projecting a positive image in year one was critical. Because here's the thing: MANY PEOPLE EXPECTED ME TO ANSWER THAT THINGS WERE NOT GOING WELL. Because it's hard as hell to make it as an artist. Especially when you take on a brick-and-mortar location. In a place with practically no foot traffic. And are only open three days a week. And your pieces are expensive and you are based in a community that's perceived as unable to support nice things. People don't expect you to succeed.

I could see it in their faces. People were ready for me to say that things were not going well. That nobody was coming in my doors. That I wasn't selling anything. That I wasn't enjoying success. That I wouldn't make it through the first year. It was almost funny to observe the surprise in their faces. "Oh really? Ummm, that's great!" And then this strange, subtle transformation as their perception of my business shifted from "just another struggling artist" to "wow, she's making it happen. I want to be part of this."

After a solid year of fake-it-'till-you-make-it, here I am. I had a good first year. I had sales. My guest artists had sales. My business has been a success.

I believe that my positive responses had a direct influence on creating all this. If I'd responded that things were slow, that I wasn't sure how I'd cover my expenses, that I felt discouraged and uncertain, that this was a tough occupation and a tough town to be in...people would have perceived me to be a sinking ship. And who wants to support some debbie downer business that is destined to fail?

But here's the thing: fake-it-'till-you-make-it creates an image of success that leads to actual success...but it can also work behind the scenes to cultivate a rotten sense of fraudulence, insecurity, and insatisfaction within the person faking it. At least that's how it's been for me. Not just here with the jewelry/art stuff, back in Mozambique it was the same thing with our consulting work.

There comes a point when you have to stop fronting and get real. Acknowledge your insecurities and weaknesses and frustrations. Voice your doubts. Truly evaluate how things are going, what is working, what isn't. Start being a little more authentic. If not with everyone who asks you how it's going, at least with yourself. The relentless positivity can quickly become denial if you don't let it fade away at some point.

Creative Business: What Makes Me (Un)Happy

Lately I've been feeling very unhappy about being a jeweler and having the gallery. These growing pains are part of the ride, but it's time for a major adjustment when the thing I love becomes the thing I most want to avoid. Because, you know, I already burned out on one career (see: the archives of this blog between 2006 and 2009) and I'd prefer that not happen again.

The things that make me unhappy are pretty easy to identify:

- Allowing my business side to take over at the expense of my artist side. Focusing too much on numbers and sales and foot traffic, and very especially measuring my success by those metrics.

- Acting like a retail jewelry store. This is not what I want to do, but it is the easiest model to follow and the one that people most readily understand. And the desire to have a flourishing business where others understand what I'm doing, support it, approve of it...I won't lie. It's there.

- Making jewelry that I think will sell, not the pieces my gut/soul/whatever leads me to create. Production work is a tempting mistress. Again, it's what others most easily "get". It's safe and expected/accepted. It's the most lucrative strategy, at least in the short term. But it is the wrong path for me, and that I do know in my gut. Focusing on production work (think wearable, fashionable jewelry collections that are made in multiples) is the fast track to my business mind taking over.

- Living too much in the future. Planning excessively. Scheduling every free moment. Maxing out my productivity.

- Creating a public persona where I don't allow myself to be real, vulnerable, messy, or uncertain. Feeling like I always have to front positivity and be "on" in order to be successful. Here I feel free to tell it like it is. On my www.aliamaro.com blog and newsletter and in the gallery, I don't. There is a major filter in place. I recognize the importance of privacy, of keeping some semblance of separation between business and personal life...but it bothers me that I don't feel okay sharing my authentic self in the spaces where I share my work.

- Feeling overly obligated to others. Man this is a big one. I want to share my opportunities with my fellow artists, and I want to contribute to my community...but there needs to be balance so I'm not consumed up in the process.

So there's the unhappy list, in a nutshell. Now for what makes me happy (it's a much less philosophical list):

- Doing the painting exercise I invented where I color mix for 5 minutes, then apply paint to the canvas for 5 minutes, let dry, and repeat. These loose, colorful, free paintings are my favorite thing right now in terms of studio work.

- Taking photos of textures, patterns, and architecture. Taking portraits.

- Creating compositions with objects. Finding edges that match and angles that meet. Finding balance within asymmetry.

- Playing with color. Putting together unexpected palettes. Organize things according to gradients.

- Doing processes that involve the unknown. Like enameling, where you have no idea what the colors will look like before you apply heat. Or using my jeweler's saw to slice into those dried acrylic paint balls I like so much, revealing a hidden interior.

- Rendering (drawing) jewelry. I think I like it because it's so damn hard and the results are so gratifying. Nothing like a challenge.

- Being a stylist: putting together a great outfit, nailing proportion, mixing patterns, accessorizing.

- Creating something for another person that is incredibly meaningful to them.

- Doing nothing. Hanging out with cats. Being in the sun. Dancing.

- Getting away. Traveling. Exploring. Wandering.

I am going to pin this to my studio wall and make it a priority to look at it, reflect on it, allow myself to say YES to things on the happy list and STOP doing the things on the unhappy list without guilt or anxiety or insecurity. I'm not sure what the result will look like, in terms of what I'll create or where it will lead. And that's part of the exercise.  

A Royal Finish

One of my major custom projects this year involved making a crown using my client's Nana's clip-on earrings and brooches as the inputs. When I said yes, I wasn't even sure I *could* make a crown, but we figured it out. The end result used Nana's vintage costume jewelry mixed with golden grass shapes (capim dourado from Brazil), labradorite, Swarovski crystals, and hundreds of tiny rivets to attach everything to the brass structure. I am still amazed by what came together.

I've been working on another big project, too: creating the structure and content for my new website over at www.aliamaro.com. It's still a work in progress, but it's close enough to soft launch and share. I know there are several dead end links, and lots of images and captions yet to upload, but after building this site from the ground up over the past 1.5 years, I'm ready for it to be a thing, out there in real life, a tool to be used.

My new site has a blog, which you can access here. I'll be sharing all of my major jewelry stuff there, writing about my experiences as a creative micro entrepreneur, posting inspiration photos, talking about process and techniques. I hope you'll follow me there, and bear with my dust while the site is still in construction.

Also in the works for early 2015: a revamped online shop! Yay!

Que Pasa, Calabaza?

It's been a whirlwind month since we arrived back from Portugal. Lots of community organizing, work at the gallery, custom orders, and moments of observation and relaxation. Here is a visual record of how I've been spending my days:

Living and working in Point Richmond, there are always opportunities for a moment. Cool cars, old houses, and a neighborhood full of friendly characters. I try to walk between our house, the studio, and the gallery as much as possible. It's about 15 minutes between any of them, the ideal distance for a meander, a pause, a reset on my perspective.

This is a house where a hoarder lived for many years. It used to be full of giant nutcrackers in the windows. At a certain point it was condemned by the city. Now it's been sold, cleaned out, and is undergoing a renovation following what seemed to be a continuous, 3-week garage sale.

Speaking of chaos (albeit the beautiful, tangled, physical kind), I am so obsessed with Martin Rickert's ceramic sculptures. We have three of them in the gallery right now and I feel like they mirror my brain state much of the time. Lots of connections, a lot going on, trying to figure out how everything links together.

Martin also does stone carving. He apprenticed in Germany in the traditional guild system and is a serious craftsman. He lives and works here in Point Richmond, and is someone we're enjoying getting to know.

I've been working on a custom headdress for a client that she will wear on her 30th birthday at a beach party in Jamaica. The inspiration is a runway piece done for Givenchy. We will put a unique twist on the design by using my client's grandmother's clip-on earrings as the focal sparkly points in the headdress. I'm super excited to see this come together.

I'm also working on a big cocktail ring that has an oval blue topaz flanked by round green tourmalines. I'm creating custom basket settings for the stones, which has been an exercise in precision and geometry. Hopefully this piece will be done this weekend.

Amid all this custom work, there's been some priceless (in)action from Gato Preto Pria:

Excitingly, people from CCA alumni and career development got in touch and did a field trip to the gallery. I'm super pleased that I got on their radar, because not only am I an alum, there is the work of three other CCA graduates in the gallery right now, plus two more CCA guest artists lined up to do shows over the summer. It's a CCA party! Plus Martin!

 It's been fun to feel the gallery come into its own. The word is getting out, and increasingly it feels "real". Nothing like a sign out front to remind me that yes, this is happening. :)

The gallery participated once again in Point to Point, the pop-up community event I've been helping organize and facilitate. I offered an interactive metals stamping booth (which was a major hit) plus a little world cup and samba action (not so much of a hit, but ya gotta try, right?).

Not only did we stamp up a storm, I managed to re-home my grandfather's sparkly red accordion that has been sitting at the bottom of my coat closet for about 10 years.

 I'd left the accordion on the gallery stoop, hoping to find someone interested in playing it that could become its new owner. Lo and behold, that happened. A gentleman picked it up, rocked out, and accepted the gifted instrument. It was a magical moment.

The new accordion owner jumped into some jam sessions that were happening around the downtown area for Point to Point. It was a treat to watch!

And of course there was the solstice. A beautiful, calm, light-washed evening. It's been a good month. :)

Spring Show Opening Reception

An Organizer at Heart

The grand paper calendar. I love this format.

It's no secret that I adore planning. It's like comfort food. Soothing, reassuring, makes me feel like all is right in the world.

I've used a paper calendar since high school and it works really well for me, especially this vertical format where every day of the week has the same layout. It drives me nuts when calendars will treat Saturday and Sunday as half-columns, or double them up. I also really like the to-do list at the side.

Being self-employed, the reality is that each of my days could potentially be a rest day or a work day. I do try to maintain a consistent schedule, and after several months of unpredictable hours and random (and urgent!) tasks, I've finally settled into something that feels right.

Here's how it goes:

• Mondays I start the day with some accounting and emails, then work in my studio for a couple of hours. I go to pilates at 2pm with Rico, then do another studio session until sunset.
• Tuesdays I focus on exercise in the morning (ideally a combo of strength training and cardio), then work in my studio until sunset.
• Wednesdays are studio and pilates, and every other week I get a super relaxing shiatsu massage and go to gallery openings at CCA.
• Thursdays I work in the showroom all day and can usually put a good dent in computer work and graphic design while I am there.
• Fridays I work out in the morning, then work in the showroom.
• Saturdays I have flex time in the morning that I can use for whatever needs attention, then I work in the showroom.
• Sundays I run with my running partner H., then sunbathe, go to studio, and have the rest of the day off (or, if needed, can play catch up).

Over the years I've figured out a balance of activities that makes me feel happy, gets the work done, and allows for the feeling of spontaneity even within such a controlled schedule. I plan my activities, obligations, studio sessions, and workouts way in advance - sometimes up to two months. I like to know what lies ahead, what I need to be prepared for, when I can let my hair down.

I track two main things each week to help keep me on track: # of times I exercise in a week, and the # of times I make it to my studio (computer work, photography, and graphic design don't count - it has to be metalsmithing). I have a little code to mark each day, and I tally everything in the corner of each page at the end of the week.

My minimum goal is 4x exercise and 3x studio, my ideal goal is 5-6x exercise and 4x studio. It really works. If I hit those numbers, somehow the rest falls into place pretty well.

So far in 2014 I've exercised 63 times (average of 5.2x per week, so totally on track there) and worked in my studio 35 days (average of 2.9 days per week, so just below my minimum goal).

I love tracking everything, and especially love looking back. I often struggle to recognize the things I've accomplished (the pending items on the to-do list usually stand out more than the ones I've crossed off) and this is a nice, empirical, undeniable way to appreciate my efforts.

Are you a planner? Do you keep a paper calendar? What (if anything) do you keep track of over time?

Africa to the Bay

I have now lived at Casa Cali for as long as I lived in Mozambique. Four-and-a-half years. Combining both places, nearly a decade.

I think about the fact that I moved to Chimoio when I was 23 and it blows my mind. So ambitious and precocious and confident and arrogant. So open to radical change. So unfazed by geography.

Between then and now I got married, created a lucrative freelance career for myself, left said career, became a homeowner, went to art school, became a metalsmith, learned how to parallel park, set up a collaborative studio space, and now - most recently - with lots of help from lots of people, opened the showroom.

I also felt my wanderlust and expat identity transform into something more grounded, content to stay in one place and invest in that life as a solid base from which to explore.

In many ways, the process of making art feels like living abroad. It can be frustrating and lonely and full of fear. It is continually humbling. There are lots of tears. And yet it is also enlightening, inspiring, and an unfailing way to get to know myself better.

These days life is grand and it is also very hard. All of the aspects of being a self-employed artist, an entrepreneur, a collaborator, a mentor, a boss that I knew would be a challenge have been just that. But in a good way. In a growing way. In a way that makes me remember every day that it's the cumulative and sustained efforts that make a difference. That Rome wasn't built in a day. That it's okay for things to be continually in flux.

The reality of my latest leap is still sinking in. I write this from the most calming and beautiful space imaginable, in a community that I am wholly part of. My fledgling business is flourishing. Rico is here helping me close for the day. We will likely go next door to the wine bar and have a glass of something delicious before going home. Then I will cook, we will relax with the cats, and tomorrow I have the chance to do it all again.