Book Three

Sunset from Hawaii's Big Island, understanding what this next phase is all about.

If moving to Mozambique was Book One, moving to California and starting art school was Book Two, then this is Book Three. I am still based in the Bay Area but the cast of characters is significantly different, as is my perspective. I feel deeply moved to write these days, but found myself questioning whether it was right to continue blogging here, in this space that is all about homes I no longer live in, a career I no longer have, and a man I am no longer married to.

Despite all that has changed, this is still the place where I feel the most comfortable sharing, documenting, and processing my life. I remind myself there is no "wrong" in continuing to write my own story, even if the space is imbued in memories of Books One and Two. What a blessing, really, to have this record to look back upon.

Thirteen years have gone by since I started this blog on a rainy evening in Austin. I am now 36, working as an artist and translator, married to a soulful Brazilian cinematographer named Roberto. We met in San Francisco through a mutual friend, a beautiful story for another day. We live in a light-filled apartment about 10 minutes away from my mom's house. My days are spent making jewelry and painting in my studio, interpreting in hospitals and at welfare appointments, and translating technical documents. Roberto spends his time going to ESL school and working on various film and video projects. Life is good.

At some point I'll share some photos, perhaps from our wedding at City Hall, or from recent travel to Hawaii, New Mexico, and Italy/Slovenia. And I'll share stories. There are SO many stories from the last two years that I want to get out before the details dull. But for now, a small synopsis of Book Three thus far:

• I healed my heart from the end of a marriage, relationship, partnership, and friendship
• I lived with my mom for 1.5 years for the first time since I was 15
• I started working as an interpreter
• I reconnected with my roots in the Italy/Slovenia border region
• I opened myself to finding love again, and did!
• I lived in San Francisco for 6 months with Roberto in a shared apartment in the very foggy Outer Richmond neighborhood, and eventually rented a place of our own in the East Bay. 
• I realized that I want to be a mother. 
• We got pregnant!!
• We found out at 13 weeks that our baby had Turner's Syndrome and the pregnancy was not viable.
• We lost the baby at 14 weeks.
• We got married!! (Very strange to be celebrating and grieving at the same time).
• I have a new name - Ali Ambrosio!!
• My dad was diagnosed with cancer (again) and had major surgery. Thankfully he's now recovering.
• Roberto had a heart attack (he is 40 and otherwise healthy) and we discovered he has several congenital heart defects. So so so grateful he received treatment and is now seemingly okay.
• Contemplated moving to the Big Island of Hawaii (the tropics were calling big time, but we realized our destiny is elsewhere)
• Currently figuring out how to make life work in the Bay Area, with a medium-term plan to spend half our time in Italy/Slovenia.

So far Book Three has been dizzyingly intense. You can understand why I need to write again. Looking forward to sharing here frequently, I've missed blogging and missed interacting with you, my lovely readers, if any of you are still out there after all this time. :)

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.

Try-On

 Quality assurance try-on before delivery of a client's heirloom necklace and earrings I built out with gemstone drops.

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!

Back to Bay Life

My freeform pattern painting from last week. I never know what direction these pieces will take...

I've been back in the Bay Area for about a week now and am enjoying the particular pleasures of my life here, namely:

- Painting group. Every Tuesday I go to the house of my 87-year-old neighbor to paint for several hours. He is a retired architect, originally from Colombia, who could easily pass for 15 years younger (he has no wrinkles, is totally mobile and independent, and has a great sense of humor). Each week he opens his garage to me and a few other local artists and we paint, drink wine, share stories, and listen to music. This past week we had a turntable out and listened to Spanish records from the 1960's. Our host taught us to play the castanets, although none of us were particularly successful - they are way harder than they look.

- Cooking and eating fresh, simple meals. After three weeks in Italy and Slovenia, one of which was intensely spent doing wine and food tourism, it feels really good to be back to my regular routine. Since being home I've enjoyed making/eating white beans, roasted potatoes, arugula, radishes, zucchini, nectarines, bananas, oatmeal, cottage cheese, eggs, and almonds. Not all together of course, but this is the base from which I create salads, frittatas, and bowls. There have been some treats, too, of course. But it feels good to detox a bit from all the alcohol and sugar and fat of my trip.

- Running. I ran while traveling, but there's nothing like being on my home turf. I am privileged to have a beautiful place to run right outside my doorstep. I can do an easy 3 or 5-mile loop along the water's edge, through a park, and into a marina area...or I can go the other direction and do some intense hills through the residential heart of Point Richmond, admiring architecture and gardens and killer views as I go along.

- Dancing. Perhaps the thing I most love about my life in the Bay Area these days. Be it cardio-fitness with the lovely ladies at Hipline in Oakland, salsa/bachata/kizomba at the dance school I've been going to in Emeryville, or most recently forró with live music in San Francisco, dancing is what keeps a smile on my face more than anything. I'm getting better at following, too, which makes the experience of partner dancing all the more enjoyable. 

- Studio life. Currently I'm trying to clean out my studio and get back to the minimalist state of being that makes me feel at ease. I see the light at the end of the current clutter tunnel, though, so hopefully tomorrow I will resume actually making jewelry instead of just organizing and purging stuff. I am looking forward to soldering again, I've got the itch to make some chandelier earrings. Plus I have some client work lined up, which isn't always glamorous but I'm grateful it's part of my life here for sure.

- Hanging out. I've been doing a fair amount of taking it easy these days, which feels good. Hanging out with my mom and her cat, Tuxa. Drinking lots of tea. Re-reading "Como Agua para Chocolate" and wishing I was eating all that divine food and living a love story of my own in Mexico. I'm hoping to sunbathe at some point, although the weather has been quite foggy which has me wearing slippers and snuggling with the electric blanket rather than reaching for my bikini. Hopefully I'll have a chance in the coming week...

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.

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!

Spreading Love All Over the World

Caricature my friend Rrramone did of me back in 2006. I was living in Maputo at the time.  I definitely feel like this.

As you can imagine, I am going through a roller coaster of emotions these days. But mostly I feel peace and excitement, and lots of love amid heartache.

For many years the thing I most feared was not being together with Rico. I knew how much it would hurt for us to break up. I felt the weight of the multiple personal-family-business connections our parting would disrupt. Rico works with my family. My mom is his boss. My aunt and uncle are the investors in the businesses they run together. (Rico and my mom actually are involved in three different businesses together, all under the same big umbrella though...) Also, there is the small detail of me wanting to make a living as an artist and translator and traveler, which is not always easy even with a gainfully employed partner.

And of course there is a geographic component to how connected we are. My mom lives just up the hill from us, so it's about 3 minutes walking to get from one house to the next. My studio is in my mom's basement. My gallery is downtown, two blocks from the clocks and home decor business Rico now runs (one of the above-mentioned businesses). Rico's mom lives 10 minutes down the road by car, near the marina.

Everything is together. Has been together. Is always together. Family, business, not wanting to intrude, having to always strategize, compartmentalize personal and professional, put up limits but also have no definition to what is family and what is business.

Rico and I started out working together, as you know. Living together. Being 100% together from the moment I set foot in Mozambique. We were a team on all fronts. We continue to be a team on all fronts. We are a really good match, life partners is how it feels. We could run the world together, that's for sure.

So all of this to say...deciding to separate was excruciatingly hard and took a long time for me to find clarity about what I was feeling. But, after a long summer and winter and start of spring examining ourselves and our relationship, Rico and I looked at each other a couple Sundays ago and just knew. It was over. We have evolved into something new, whatever's next.

It is one of the greatest gifts I've ever felt to know that he and I are at peace. That we see eye to eye and feel heart to heart about where we started and where we are now ending. That we are separating but the other interconnected layers of our lives can continue, will continue.

Likely there will be better harmony there, as well. I really like Rico's mom, for example, but it's a bummer to hang out with your mother-in-law when you are contemplating the impending breakup with her son. So she and I can hang out now like I imagine we've both always wanted to. Having fun. Dancing somewhere. I can hang out with my mom again and have it be just mom. I'm not self-censoring all the time, we can travel to Italy together, eat and drink and visit and hike. Enjoy life.

I am in awe to see how many of the other relationships in my life have also healed in the wake of me and Rico separating - and also of my grandma passing away. Gina, my mom's mom, finally let go at age 94 and went to have a party with all her friends up in the sky from Italy and all around the world who have been waiting for her arrival.  So after my grandma passing and then Rico and I separating, I have experienced so much healing, so much closeness and authenticity with the people I love. I am grateful for all the support and to be able to be real with my people, without walls around my heart and constantly putting up a positive front.

Gina Paola Cantoni. 1922-2016. I look a lot like her and have inherited many of her traits and interests.

Also, conveniently, people can give double condolences to the family. Sorry about Gina. Sorry about Rico and Ali.

I've been meeting the most incredible strangers lately, too, as a bonus gift from the universe. People with whom I can share a moment or two whenever paths randomly cross in a café or restaurant or while listening to live music. Travel reminds me to disconnect from the phone and be a person in the present moment. Eye contact. Breath. Sand. Saying hello and good morning. Smiling whenever people pass me to see who I can get to smile back. Spreading love all over the world.

The Ride

Amid the heavy emotions I'm feeling lately, there are also many lighthearted moments. Solo dancing for the security cameras in my gallery, enjoying wearing new spring clothes and high heels, trying new restaurants with Rico, being around the family's assorted cats and their funny ways.

Ups and downs, choices, and a big-ass learning curve on this ride called life.

Next up: three weeks in Italy - two of which will be with my mom, and one will be solo. I'll be doing lots of art and writing and dancing, exploring, eating and drinking the region's delights, and taking a welcome break from my regular routine.

I am very lucky.

Yes to This, No to That

This year I'm making some intentional shifts in where my yes's and no's are. Some of this feels terrifying, some of it feels like a relief, some feels like adventure waiting to unfold.

SAYING YES TO TRAVEL means saying NO to:

- a geographically fixed workspace

- a consistent open-to-the-public schedule at the gallery 

- being able to attend all of the local events that interest me

- other tempting ways of using my time and money

SAYING YES TO THE WORK I WANT TO MAKE means saying NO to:

- certain requests for custom work or repairs

- certain social activities because I need lots of time in the studio

- an easily defined image/style (which causes me stress because I like to be cohesive, and the work I want to make feels pretty random right now)

SAYING YES TO MY PHYSICAL HEALTH means saying NO to:

- eating too much sugar

- smoking too much weed

- weighing myself obsessively

SAYING YES TO MY EMOTIONAL HEALTH means saying NO to:

- behavior patterns that cause me pain

- toxic relationships

- the stigma of being in therapy

SAYING YES TO THE SPACE I NEED means saying NO to:

- a shared studio space

- employing an assistant

- a boundary-less existence with the family business

SAYING YES TO MY CREATIVE PRACTICE means saying NO to:

- having my phone in the studio

- the need to make "good" work

- fear of being vulnerable

Studio Incarnations

Over the years there have been many spaces in many different places where I have made my work. Here's a fun flashback, from Maputo to Oakland to Mendocino to Point Richmond.

Half-Life

I turn 34 tomorrow.

I can't remember my birthday last year or what I did to celebrate it. I mean, I'm sure if I look back at my calendar or photos I can piece it together, but offhand it's a blank.

A lot of last year felt blank honestly. Well, a mix of blank and bouncing between "I feel incredible joy, my life is exactly what I've always wished for," and "I feel unbearable pain and something major in my life must change." Exhausting and deeply confusing, all these opposite feelings.

It had been creeping up on me for a while that a major life inventory was due. Then one day in August, it happened. I was no longer afraid to look inside and name my truths. This unstoppable stream of words and emotions and bravery came out of me, and I shared with the people I love.

It's so refreshing to feel like myself again, to turn on the fuck-it button (ligar o foda-se), to learn about what I want and don't want, to be humble and grateful, and to make sure I am living my life accordingly.

Tomorrow, on my birthday, I will:

- Go swimming at 6:15am at the Plunge (the pool by our house that I had been curious about for ages and finally started going to with a couple of girlfriends to swim laps).

- Find something that seems delicious as a birthday treat and go buy it.

- Have a picnic lunch on our deck with Rico, his mom (who is here and loving life in California), and my mom. Hanging out with the moms is one of my favorite things.

- Then I have therapy in Berkeley, with a woman I recently started going to and totally love. (I had been thinking about going to therapy for the last 7 years. Seven!!! I guess you go when you are ready, and I'm so glad I did.)

- In the evening I will go paint with my painting group. (My 90-year-old friend Manny hosts it at his house, and there are two other local artists who attend regularly, plus guest participation by Rico's mom every once in a while.)

Already my birthday this year has been a good one. Pre-birthday, I guess, but whatever. I feel like it's started. My dad told me the first cranes made it to New Mexico on their fall migration, so the kick-off is official.

I just had solo dance party in my gallery, which was fabulous. And I am working on the sketches for a challenging commission, a geometric ring in sterling silver. The design is two lines zig-zagging through life (around the ring band) that eventually converge and intersect at two points. Beautiful concept, but a nightmare to calculate and draw (although this is just the kind of math + pattern + aesthetics problem I love).

There is some major full-circle synchronicity to these rings, too. In the summer of 1999 I was 17 and fell in love with a boy in Brazil. Very long story short, it ended with me heartbroken and full of self-hate. Although we eventually found closure, this person and that relationship have been riding shotgun in my unconscious for the past 17 years. I just realized this is exactly half my lifetime ago!!

Again long story short, I now find myself making promise rings for him and his girlfriend. Today while sketching yet another version of the design, I had an epiphany about the reasons why this half-life relationship has continued to have such a hold on me. I had a major cry, and then lightness. What a wonderful birthday gift, this moment of self understanding.

Spaces

I want my business to flow like I want my life to flow, and for this I need systems. I spend a lot of time analyzing what I do, how I do it, where I do it, when I feel like doing it, and when I avoid it. After nearly two years of observing myself, I can see certain patterns, allowing me to engineer my use of time and space in a way that feels productive, flexible, and full of ease.

My work is split between three spaces, each of which has finally begun to reveal its identity. I've realized what I want to do in each place, what works given the unique layouts and constraints, what definitely doesn't work.

My studio at my mom's house is my alone space. There I can dive deep in my ideas, experiment with materials, get lost in my projects. It's also a space where I measure very, very precisely and hopefully cut only once. It's where I solder and make noise and use power tools. This has been a shared space for the last three years, and in the new year it will be all mine for the first time. I plan to rearrange a little and put in a painting area and an enameling area. I'm excited.

My gallery is where I put on my public face, at least during the hours I've committed to being regularly open. I've recently started spending more time in this space in off-hours, which feels good and allows me to let my hair down and relax into just being present. The gallery has often felt stressful, and over the last two years I've started to understand why that is, and how to overcome it.

I have a carefully controlled presentation to the public, an experience that I want people to have when they come in here. This requires discipline and procedures and lots and lots of tweaking of details. So much goes into creating the space I envision, and I'm constantly rearranging. I've recognized the cycle, at least: I'll put out new work, agonize because it all looks horrible the way it's displayed, feel like I don't have any of the right props or surfaces or labels, then make a brilliant adjustment that brings all the jewelry and paintings and found objects together, then feel super satisfied for about two weeks, then start to think the displays look bad, feel the need to drastically rearrange, then repeat the cycle but with a slightly different mix of pieces.

I often feel dissatisfied with the way my work looks in the gallery, which I know seems bizarre because the space itself is always beautiful. But there's always something that doesn't fit right, or needs to be regrouped, or on a larger background, or explained in a different way. I think a lot about iterations. Dozens of different ways of categorizing, classifying, presenting, and narrating my work. With each iteration I understand more about myself, about what I'm doing.

The logistical side of this constant re-visioning and re-arranging is a nightmare. Holes drilled, walls patched, paint touched up, lights adjusted, displays built, props corralled in bins, mannequins and busts acquired, aluminum maps stacked, supplies sorted, labels printed, stuff hauled back and forth and back and forth. Thus I am obsessed with how to make it flow easy, this eternal doing and undoing of my space.

Furthermore, I have the opportunity to work with two young women artists as assistant/interns, which means I need to have good storage systems and policies and procedures in place, because if it's hard with one person it quickly turns to chaos when there are more hands and heads involved. Not just the logistical stuff, but thinking about the experience and the identity of my space: how to greet people when they walk in, what kind of values I want to transmit, how to operate in my absence. It's a lot. Training people is hard, because to do it right you have to know what YOU want, which in my case has not only taken a while but is ever-changing. Being able to be flexible and dynamic is a must.

When I first opened the gallery, I thought I'd do a certain kind of work at my front desk and jeweler's bench. I've finally learned what it is I actually want to do here, and what doesn't work at all. I need to do tasks that are conducive to interruption and pauses. Sketching works well, as does administrative stuff.

Other things seemed better in theory than in reality. For example, I started with a huge monitor in the gallery to be able to do photo editing and website updates in here. What I didn't anticipate was the size of the screen, coupled with the glare from the sun hitting the cars parked across the street, giving me migraines. Also the screen blocked my view of the front door. And I realized that when I work on my website, I'm deep in thought trying to build my site in a way that makes sense and write succinct copy. Any interruption totally takes me out of the zone, and I forget what exactly I was doing and what page needed updating. So that was out. I took my monitor home, and now do photo editing and website updates from there.

Which brings me to my final workspace, in our house, in a shared office with Ricardo. That's where I do my accounting, and my emails, and anything that benefits from a huge computer screen. It's a pain to have my functions/papers/things split among three spaces, but the reality is that I often feel like staying home but also need to work a bit. So if I can work a little from home as well as my studio and my gallery, I'm able to stay on top of things better. And there's nothing quite as nice as rolling out of bed, getting some coffee, and knocking out five things on the computer while still wearing pajamas.

The habits from my days as a freelance consultant die hard, I guess.

Freeform Patterns

I love painting multi-layered patterns with no plan other than to mix some colors and be loose. No overthinking allowed. No worries about how ruined or unattractive my expression might become. Every brush stroke will take me exactly where I need to go, so I just lay down the colors and shapes and enjoy the surprises that emerge.

I've been designing patterns my whole life, so by this point I know how to engineer a pleasing result. But that's not what interests me per se, so a lot of this exercise is about finding ways to move beyond the predictable and into whatever exists beyond the prettiness.

Above is an example of a pattern that went somewhere new for me, away from the Marimekko/tropical/floral aesthetic that is my first language. It started out looking like a giant abacus, then got some florals and geometry, then got way too messy with too much going on, so I wiped all over the entire surface with a big, dry brush. Finally I drew a vine/chain pattern over the plaid with a light hand.

This blurry, pink plaid is exciting to me because it represents a new strategy to explore: make a pattern, then blend everything together. Lose the details. Throw a layer of fog over what once was clear. The results will be softer and quieter than my usual frequência operacional, I imagine.

Groove Back

What have I been up to lately? Oh, you know, finding my fabulousness again.

Sometime around February things began to shift. After many years of not feeling like myself deep down, I was ready to reconnect with ME.

I started painting (something I've wanted to do for-ever), allowing myself the pleasure of creating spontaneous worlds of color. For all the fun of abstract painting, I've also been drawn to the insane technical challenge of representational painting. Still lives and even a portrait. Really what I need to do is practice drawing - learn how to lay a good foundation for the color and volume that come next. I so struggle with lines and perspective. But that challenge is a big part of what keeps me coming back.

I made some ballsy custom jewelry that threw me way outside my comfort zone but also showed me I can be confident in my work. This necklace has 23 repurposed diamonds from my client's mother's wedding band, set in 18k gold in a field of blue enamel. Technically this was a major challenge, but I did it!

I decided it was high time to get the tattoo I'd been thinking about for the last few years, and now have my personal map on my back. It's a mash-up of the places that are/were home: Casa Cali, Maputo, Austin, Albuquerque, Rio, Peci (Italy). Six dots, lots of geography, lots of living.

I also cleaned up my eating and drinking habits and lost 10+ pounds in 3 months. What was the trick? An app called MyFitnessPal where you can log foods and exercise. Well, that and finally dealing with some emotional/personal stuff that I'd been desperately avoiding for the past ten years or so. Ten and ten. Lots of weighty stuff. Ha, ha.

I've been going to Hipline (the dance studio in Oakland I love so much) a lot, as usual. And doing pilates, and running. And I even started swimming at the Plunge (lovely pool by our house) on Tuesdays at 6:15am. I feel so good, I'm on my way to a six-pack, and my thigh-waist proportions are less drastic which means I can wear pants again without feeling like I'm being squeezed to death.

Speaking of, I recently held a snake for the first time (well, the tail end of my friend Emi's ball python) but even so - major phobia overcoming right there! I thought I'd be brave enough to hold the whole snake, even wrap it around my neck, but there was no way that was going to happen. I was pretty proud of getting this far given my history.

It's good to be back.

Power Rings

Mozambican ametrine and 18k gold power ring.

Over the last year I've been making power rings for women. Large gemstones, minimal settings, lots of personal significance. There's something magnetic when a person finds the right stone at the right time. There is an energy that makes you never want to take it off your finger. 

Blue topaz and 10k gold power ring.

These rings are some of my favorite pieces to create. They usher us through chapter changes, whether a round-number birthday, the beginning of a new career, or the loss of a loved one. A power ring is a reminder to be courageous, to be present amid heartache and triumph, and above all to be true to one's self.

Raw Mozambican blue topaz and sterling silver power ring.

Recently I felt the need for a power ring of my own. Back in Maputo, I was introduced to a Dutch diplomat whose hobby was lapidary work. I went to buy some gems one day, and spotted this incredible blue topaz in his "trash pile," an empty Ricoffy container full of rocks that had been rejected for one reason or another. This particular topaz has an inclusion, or internal flaw, that looks like iridescent water bubbles from the right angle. My diplomat contact had started to facet the stone, but when he discovered the defect he abandoned ship. For me, however, it was pure magic. He gave me the stone for free and I remember thinking that one day I would know how to make it into a ring.

Rough blue topaz in asymmetrical sterling silver setting.

That was before we moved to the Bay. Before I applied to CCA. Before I learned how to solder. Before knowing for sure if this crazy idea to change careers would materialize. Six years later, settled in my new identity as a jeweler and an artist, I finally made that fabulous topaz into a power ring.

And just in time... Now more than ever I need a reminder to find myself, be true to myself, be in the moment, and have no fear of the unknown destiny that lies ahead. Life is a bumpy-ass road sometimes, and there's nothing like a luminous, geologically ancient, perfectly flawed rock on my hand to guide me through the turbulence.

Fabrication

Here's a little behind-the-scenes insight for you all, thoughts about my jewelry and art and business, two years out of school and a year-and-a-half into the gallery:

- I still buy double the materials I need for most custom jewelry projects. I am a firm believer that Murphy is always riding shotgun, and things will go wrong at the most inopportune times. No matter how careful I am with planning and measuring, mistakes happen. Things melt or are cut wrong. Also, the black hole that lurks in all jeweler's studios will swallow up pieces of metal or tiny gemstones that manage to escape our death grip or drop through our inner thighs a nanosecond after we slam them together because something has fallen off the bench. Between the possibility of ruining or losing a critical component, I have to have double materials on hand. Expensive, but I have no regrets.

- For tricky client projects, I make prototypes. Often at my own expense in terms of hours and materials, but I still see myself as such a learner that it makes sense this way, for now. I want to make sure that things will work, materials will behave, that I'm not promising something I can't deliver. I understand the piece so much more after making a prototype. At a certain point, I imagine being comfortable and experienced enough that I don't have to buy double materials and don't have to spend quite so much time in the prototype phase. I think of it as building a knowledge library that I can access in the future. I take really good notes on what I am doing, and what specifically I am learning from not just the prototypes, but all the work I make.

- I make most of my jewelry by fabricating. This means I start "from scratch" using different dimensions of wire and sheet as the building blocks for a finished piece. Occasionally I will make pieces using lost wax casting, where you start with a wax model, make a mold, and then cast in metal. Casting and fabricating have significantly different design and production challenges. Fabricating to me is like miniature engineering. You have to be exceptionally precise and consider the order in which you do things. Casting is more like sculpting a beautiful wax and then following instructions, like baking a cake. To get more pieces, you just "bake" another round. Casting is way more efficient, time and cost wise...but it's the mental and structural challenge of fabricating that really gets me. So a big challenge for my business is that I prefer the slow and expensive but technically brilliant way of working.

- Custom work is what keeps coming to me, which is exciting. I have made some really incredible pieces for people this year. I can't share all of them yet, which is the burden of the jeweler who must keep secrets, but I am very excited and will be able to post photos in the coming weeks.

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.