It’s the time of the year when the Nuytsia Floribonda tree catches our attention in the midst of dry sun-scorched bush, its vibrant yellow flowers licking the blue sky: the West Australian Christmas tree.

 

On the jewellery side of Tineke Creations, I continue to create new work, all one-off pieces around natural objects. A new project brings together my jewellery practice and job at the Lung Institute with a residency at SymbioticA from March 2011 to make jewellery from mouse lungs! 

 

On the writing side of Tineke Creations, the manuscript of my novel Traverse is now in its final stages of development. I have included a brief excerpt to give you a taste of the story. Stay tuned to read more.

 

And for something completely different: Australia is exporting the art of happiness - check the ABC website for more details.

 

 

 

 

My work typically uses special stones, bits of endangered tree bark or twig, cast in silver or gold. Because part of the fun is to collect each of these items at source, they often refer to a unique place such as Madagascar, Zambia or remote parts of Australia. 

 

The irregular shape of the natural object brings its own challenges: custom made irregular ‘bezels’ (box setting for a stone) to integrate the organic form and to join with metal sheets for pendants, rings and other made objects. 

 

At times I seek a solution by creating a wire-made structure, using traditional textile techniques such as knitting or, even better, crochet which allows for more flexibility, like the peridot-in-gold earrings in the image. 

 

While the technical process of creating jewellery requires process and precision, the most important element in design of a piece of jewellery is play.

 

Playing means observing all aspects of a natural object and juxtaposing it with other elements. This can take anywhere from seconds to hours to even years. For instance, I had been playing with silver wire when it struck me that the moonstones from Madagascar would fit beautifully, and that the opaque in the labradorites worked best when opposed by an open wire structure. This took only moments.

 

Another stone, an aquamarine I have been holding, observing, many times since I got it nine years ago, finally found a purpose with a commission for a friend’s mother’s birthday. Thinking of her, her golden complexion and dark brown eyes, I could only think of ‘cool blue’. The perfect gem quality of one part of the crystal stood out against the other part where specks of dirt and other minerals and natural inclusion seemed to ‘blurr’ the stone. I admired it in its entirety, so perfectly faceted by nature, a blue rock, 500 millions of years old.

 

    

 

The final ‘match’ came when I combined gold dust pieces from Madagascar that reflect the little specks in the crystal, and found blue Amazonite beads and frosted quartz cylindrical beads to decorate the necklace chain. 

In the last few months, I have been making few but unique pieces with tourmaline and amethyst crystals, labradorite or moonstone and aquamarine. All prices are in Australian dollars, excluding GST or freight costs.

 

 

The Bemarivo cut so deep through the land we had reached after over three weeks of trekking, its water seemed to be boiling up from nowhere, a place so deep down below the earth’s crust it was neither future, past or present. Water, white as snow with whirlpools deeps like ravins gave birth to snakes water, their iridescent heads circling up and reaching high above. It felt as if their tongues were licking my calves as I carefully placed my feet one before the other. The river gorge was filled with a mass of spray connecting the quick water from the deep with the sky.

The river was like a giant washing machine, in which I could throw anything and it would come out clean, somewhere else, as unpredictable as the water’s movement appeared. The spray had also wet the rocks, making the path, which was on an angle, slippery and dangerously prone to cause accidents.

My mind tried to figure out what was level, holding on to some invisible grid that would allow me to take the next step, and another one.

‘C’mon, a little faster,’ Dis’s voice behind me ushered impatiently.

‘What if I fall?’ I replied but my words were swallowed by the thunder behind the spray. I did not dare to turn and look him in the face. ‘Don’t you know I fear heights?’ I shouted.

Again, he heard nothing but the thunder in the white water down below.

That place below in some way appealed. What if I did slip?

I remember once, while canoeing in France, and having missed the sign ‘Competition. Stop. Danger waterfalls,’ because I was too busy trying to get my canoe unstuck from a tree. The next thing was that my canoe slipped away into the waterfall first, then I followed, my body brushing slippery soft rock at the bottom of the river, then sliding, dragged further, then tumbling down another level into the next waterfall. I had no idea which side was up and where was down. I just kept going, as if I too was fluid, stretching myself across all six of the waterfalls until I came to rest in a quiet green blue pool. I would have been at peace if things had ended there, in death. But here I was clinging on to life with all my senses and fears. And wasn’t this a much better time and place to go than over in France at the Gorges de l’Herault, with my mother, who never learnt to swim, watching her daughter plunge from pool to pool, powered by the white water?

This journey had soaked all sap out of me. By this time, I either stop and slide, or think of this place metaphorically, as the stream which I traveled along for all of 350 km, washes and rinses the inside of me, and prepares me for the next challenge ahead. I picked up my pace. My legs were like a mountain goat’s legs pushing me ahead fast and light, to another, safer place, if only for now.