this is how i am feeling right now, all tangled and jumbled and in need of sorting out some loose end bits of my life. i never cease to be surprised at how busy my life remains to be, in spite of the fact that both boys are now out on their own, i have no spouse, my biggest responsibility is to keep my head above water and on course. but being self employed has all sorts of busy-ness that comes along with the package, good and bad, and i don't spend all of my time sitting blissfully around tinkering with gemstones and with silver. i know you all know this, i'm just musing out loud here on this overcast wet cotton monday morning. i've been creating detailed, emotional pieces of jewelry, have so many pieces that are completed and in need of releasing on their way out into the world beyond these windows of firefly road. i have incomplete pieces as well, and journal pages to write, and photographs to edit. we all do. welcome, monday morning. welcome, mercury retrograde.
i've been spending a lot of our walking time wandering through undergrowth and bare-bone late winter woodlands, admiring the way that weather and water and wind and river currents take their lovely toll on stones, on acorn caps, on sticks and branches and twigs that have been chewed by beavers, tumbled by flood waters and left heaped in piles along the banks of the river. i can't stop myself from gathering, gathering, gathering these sweet nature cast offs and bringing them home to rest here on tabletops and in vases and springing from old rusted tins on shelves in the studio. i contemplate how to use them in my work, how to make them be an integral part of storage and beauty and ornament, all in one.
i also can't seem to stop from pulling out needle and embroidery thread to embellish these small bits of windfall goodness, to decorate their simple natural beauty with a little touch of domestic artistry as well. strips of green velvet moss twisted and stitched and further stitched on crooked little knobs of filed and drilled wood convey the green patches of moss i see every time i walk along the trail behind my house, every time we walk along the river.
i snapped the photo of this wrapped twig before i had spent an additional hour stitching "vines" of chartreuse embroidery thread, winding and looping the design up and around and across the velvet moss and wood, attaching with fine silk cord the peridot carved leaves, the pearls and faceted green garnet. i don't even know if you can see all that vine stitching, now that the stones have been scattered across the surface. it doesn't matter; i know that the added detail is there. i think of the hours i spent sitting at the studio table, quietly embroidering, and remember just how i felt, remember the music that i was listening to, (schubert for two, with its achingly beautiful ständchen D 957/4), the story that was being read out loud to me, via audio tape (The Cat's Table, Michael Ondaatje).
it is a challenge, so difficult, to photograph these things when the day is grey, when lighting is stubbornly low. i've tried, a dozen times. it was raining last week when i photographed the necklace at one initial stage, it is deeply overcast this morning when i've carried the completed necklace in here to lay quietly in whatever milky light exists. i am a little amused to take note of the myriad of minor changes that took place in the course of its creation - even in its name. what an interesting exercise this is, to document a piece from step by step by step, to show it as it slowly unfolds.
here we have a finished piece, a little out of focus, just as life can sometimes be:
i've used the cast bronze acorns and leaves, the bezel binoculars charm from my 1995 studio. i remember rolling meadows, i remember the weathered old barn and little stream that sat within view of my studio window. i remember the boys being young, so young, i remember our beloved springer spaniel, aspen, who spent countless hours with those boys romping through the garnet-studded stream, into the mossy woods beyond. aspen is three years gone, the boys have grown and live lives of their own. all of that gets wrapped up into this one sweet piece of woodland history. out of the studio also comes another quiet piece that speaks of tender growth, of other things. it's all quite poignant, to me it seems, this work that is flowing up out of my heart, spilling out into pieces that speak of a longing for spring. i love the butterfly antennae, the dragonfly-esque mother of pearl wings. i'll be completing and listing all of these - the bracelets, the "blue skies" necklace, the branched moss, the pearly wings, sometime this week. for now, i have a very very sad heart that aches for my mother, who is this very morning having to put her beloved golden retriever, isaac, to sleep. only this week we've discovered his cancer. he is a tender, loving companion who has devotedly kept my mother company these past months of loss. that she has to suffer yet another death in such a brief amount of time seems beyond comprehension. i'll be heading down there tomorrow to help fill that painfully quiet house with walter's rambunctious spirit, with stories, with a daughter's solid loving presence. this is the very least that i can do.
xo
such absolutely stunning work here...the lovelies and the words. i want to reach out and let my fingertips lightly dance on "into the woods"....such intricate and loving work on all of these beauties. i can see and feel that your heart was wrapped in that as well.
i ache for your sweet mom and the loss of her buddy....hugs to all of you. safe travels sweet friend. xoxo
Posted by: Tina in McLeansville | March 12, 2012 at 11:47 AM
biggest hugs to you and your mama...
the work is beautiful and soulful... the wrapped twig is divine in its combination of age and sparkle...
have a safe trip tomorrow -
Posted by: mary jane dodd | March 12, 2012 at 11:52 AM
Such an achingly beautiful post, and then the heartbreaking mention of loss at the end. Losing a beloved animal companion is never easy; it must be doubly hard for your mother at this time.
But today, here, is cloudless blue and unseasonably warm. Spring is busting out all over, as if it were June, June, June. The day is full of wonderful promise, just as spring always is.
Posted by: Mary G. | March 12, 2012 at 12:05 PM
It's clear that Mercury Retrograde isn't affecting your communication here Nina! This post is filled with beauty and sorrow bumping against each other with a quiet grace that is a hallmark of your beautiful writing.
I admire all that you do to support your mother Nina - I have not always had a good relationship with my own mother but yours is an example I strive to achieve in the years to come.
Thank you for sharing ALL of yourself here in this beautiful space Nina - it is such a treat to visit this graceful space =-)
Posted by: Monica | March 12, 2012 at 12:38 PM
...such beauty against the sadness of your heart...
sometimes it hurts. go towards it and let it seep through the pores and cleanse you..
Posted by: sandra | March 12, 2012 at 01:20 PM
you are such a kind heart Nina! so sad that your mother is loosing her beloved dog. you are on my thoughts...
and that twig necklace is just beautiful. reminds me of walks in English woods, where trees where filled with ivy.
Posted by: delila | March 12, 2012 at 01:23 PM
Your large kind heart is that embroidered twig in its heart-shaped splendor. Each twined green tendril, each small bead of viridian, each taproot reconnected is your life's experiences and yes, oh yes, you share so much with others. May you take light and love to your dear mother. You will be the candle for her in this time of passings and loving the circle of life that we must acknowledge and honor in its many guises. You are authentic and real like what you are discovering in the walks. Praise be to all life and greening - it renews us and gives us strength that all is, as Julian of Norwich says, "…All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of thing shall be well." I also send you these most lovely lines from T. S. Eliot as spirit clothes to wear upon this journey.
"Whatever we inherit from the fortunate
We have taken from the defeated
What they had to leave us—a symbol:
A symbol perfected in death.
And all shall be well and
All manner of thing shall be well
By the purification of the motive
In the ground of our beseeching"
Blessings to you --
Posted by: Katherine Langford | March 12, 2012 at 01:33 PM
I can very much relate to the "busy-ness" of being self-employed. Some days... actually... most days... I dream of having someone take care of everything "ELSE" and be able to just create and make and have that as my sole preoccupation.
And I'm sorry to hear that your mom is having to put down her golden retriever. It must have been hard. A difficult act to ease the suffering of a creature loved.
Posted by: Andrew Thornton | March 12, 2012 at 01:51 PM
As always, I find such a deep peace here. Strength for the days ahead, Nina. xo
Posted by: Di | March 12, 2012 at 02:33 PM
Amazing work! The pieces show a story with all their little treasures which you lovingly put into them -- they are works of art! Sorry about your mom's friend.I'm sure you can make your mom a piece of art to honor and remember her faithful friend. HUGS!
Posted by: Lori Burek | March 12, 2012 at 02:34 PM
Amazing! I always feel inspired by your words and your beautiful works of art. I, too, am sorry about your mom's dog. Your presence will help her through.
Posted by: Dorylyn | March 12, 2012 at 03:01 PM
Goodness Nina ... so so sorry to hear about Isaac - I do know that sick feeling. Of course, the new work is gorgeous, especially loving the twig necklace - brilliant!
Travel safe and let me know when you return. love always ...
Posted by: Kathy VK | March 12, 2012 at 04:21 PM
That's what makes for beautiful art though, I think - when there are layers and layers that you can't always quite see, or know all of, but they're there, adding something, doing their part. And their presence is as necessary to the whole as that which lies on top.
I love making things that look different at different distances - the little surprises and nuances that become clear as you move closer, the detail on the back that is only revealed if the viewer picks it up. The little gasp or "ooh" they utter is my favourite part of someone looking at something I've made.
I love how you describe it all, and the soft misty light is perfect - the pictures are beautiful!
My heart goes out to your mother; the loss of a faithful friend is a heavy one. Good journey.
Posted by: Jillayne | March 12, 2012 at 06:12 PM
Dear Nina, even in such sadness your lovely soul shines through! It is so sad to lose those dear companions who never ask much of us and are just there at our knee always and especially when they have also helped us through earlier grief. My heart goes out to your mother and you and it is wonderful that you have your "work" things to help you through. Even those non-blissful things can help. Love and hugs from Robyn.
Posted by: Robyn Ayaz | March 12, 2012 at 08:08 PM
your new pieces are exquisite.......and you are a very caring daughter......
Posted by: carol | March 12, 2012 at 08:49 PM
Such beauty in your post and new pieces that tell such sweet stories. Such beauty in your kind and loving devotion to your mother. And such bittersweet beauty in the companionship and loss of a loyal friend. Real beauty everywhere. CW
Posted by: Carol Weiler | March 12, 2012 at 09:46 PM
I'm so sorry about your mom's dog. It is a pain-filled loss, I know. Our pets are such loveable and loving companions. My thoughts and prayers are with you all.
vickie in kc
Posted by: vickie | March 12, 2012 at 10:35 PM
Hallo my Dear One,
as usual your work is magical. Such detail, such soul.
Kind thoughts to your Mama.
xo
Posted by: herhimnbryn | March 13, 2012 at 01:09 AM
I love it when you document and share the process. It's a visible symbol of the way that memories, the immediate environment, the music we're hearing, thoughts we're having, the stories we're listening to (and lots more) are all invisible parts of the piece. I do believe that all of that is there in an intangible way.
Posted by: Ann | March 13, 2012 at 09:14 AM
What a kind and loving daughter you are. You and your mom are so lucky to have each other....
xoxo
Bonnie
Posted by: Bonnie Moench | March 13, 2012 at 11:44 AM
Beautiful jewelry pieces, Nina.
Safe travels to be with your mom.
Much love.
xo dusan
Posted by: susan | March 13, 2012 at 04:50 PM
Oh, moss in the woods! Is there anything better?! When I was a little girl we had lots of moss in the yard, I used to love to go out and lay down on the cool velvety greenness of it. I like the thought of the green velvet in this piece and the connection to moss :)
Beautiful pieces, as always!
Posted by: tracey | March 13, 2012 at 06:16 PM
ps: I forgot to say, my condolences to you and your mom.....
Posted by: tracey | March 13, 2012 at 06:17 PM
Great minds think alike. :) Funny how the world works. Over the last few days, between everything else, I have wrapped and stitched on a piece of driftwood that I gathered on a walk awhile back.
It doesnt look anywhere as artful as yours.But Im hoping that eventually I can work as inspiringly as you.
I also have little vignettes around the house of found natural objects :)
Regards Phillipa
Posted by: Phillipa | March 13, 2012 at 06:29 PM
Your new work is simply beautiful Nina! It really reflects your love of nature.
I am sorry to hear about your Mom's sweet dog. Sending her warm thoughts.
Posted by: Lorraine | March 13, 2012 at 09:34 PM
Wow...the 'into the woods' necklace looks like it is encrusted with all kinds of growth....it's an amazing piece. Sorry for your mom having to loose her dog so soon after losing her husband. A lot of this life is made up of loss isn't it.
Posted by: Dinahsoar | March 13, 2012 at 11:58 PM
Such beauty in your new creations...you are so in tune with winter's beauty and the tentative peeks of spring. Your words, your photos, your creations weave a picture of such inspirational, awesome beauty. I feel deeply for you and your mum. Losing a faithful furry companion is such a heartbreaking thing. Much love sent your way.
Posted by: Sophie | March 14, 2012 at 03:55 AM
Dear Nina,
As always I thank you for your beautiful blog, the amazing photos of your jewelry and your surroundings but most of all I thank you for your words -- it's like having a friend out there in the world who is so honest and so giving.
Hug yourself and kiss walter for me.
xox,
Diana
Posted by: Diana Giambrone | March 14, 2012 at 12:21 PM
i love seeing the transition with the photos . it is nice to see how your necklace evolved .
love to your mom and her transition of losing a friend .
xxoo
kathyd
Posted by: kathy dorfer | March 14, 2012 at 01:24 PM
i just got a chance to sit and read...i've been uber busy with "stuff" these days that i haven't had a chance to stop by. i love what you have been creating lately...seems as though your mojo is flowing pretty good these days...must be the spring and sunshine i hope! i love the natural colors and incorporation of your nature walks in your work. i wish i had your creativity...i'm still working on the left brain. *wink* i feel bad for your mom..i know how difficult it is to put a beloved pet down...i had to be the strong one in a house full of men when my dog was at his end...give her a hug from me...
Posted by: bev b | March 15, 2012 at 12:04 AM
I like milky light, especially with cookies... aloha sweet pup.
Posted by: Vickie | March 15, 2012 at 01:40 AM
I've so enjoyed meeting new people through Seth - but your blog has really amazed me. Your writing is absolutely beautiful, your jewellry equally so. I've spent a couple of hours reading your posts, thinking, trying to take in the scope of your life, your work, your love of the woods, and your love for Walter. I cried for your Mom, losing Isaac, and I know you and Walter will look after her. Blessings from faraway Australia.
Posted by: Carol | March 15, 2012 at 06:28 AM
I am always amazed by your jewelry, it takes twists and turns that I don't expect, and comes out beautifully on the other side!
I love Seth's blog and all the artists he clues me in to. One time I featured a quick note on my blog, and he acutally left me a message! Very sweet. I like your question too, ahving been to a therapist myself. Also, as a nurse, we often have this type of issue with patients- do we tell them anything about ourselves, or just listen to what they say? Often it is a judgement call.
Hugs to your mom. Losing an animal is such a terrible thing. I still miss my old beloved cat, gone these two years...
Posted by: Lee | March 15, 2012 at 11:56 AM
beautiful, in so many ways...
Posted by: donna joy | March 17, 2012 at 11:37 AM
Beautiful work, beautiful words. I have always said that I believe that every mother needs a wonderful daughter and I am sure that you fit the bill. Hope your mom heals soon.
Posted by: Kathy Pennekamp | March 18, 2012 at 07:35 AM
I don't have the eloquent words the other commenters have, but, I do want to let you know that you and your mother are in my heart.I look at your lovely necklace and wonder if it was laying against my throat if I would be able to smell the woods and river. How incredible that would be.
Posted by: Jan | March 18, 2012 at 04:34 PM