Under a Carnelian Sun

I took a walk across Prince Alfred Park, the decomposing leaves of the plane trees (platanus xhispanica) looked like the skeletal remains of giant hands (giants with very thin bones, at that).

A dense black snagged my attention. A charcoal-blackened gum leaf lay damp and incongruent beside the discarded desiduous matter.

Odd as that sighting was, it swiftly reminded me of childhoods in summer, when the bushfire clouds would roll in over our suburb and litter our green backyard with charred and smokey smelling gum leaves. They were perfectly leaf-shaped, often still retaining the fine markings of veins and grub-eaten edges, but they were charcoal all the way through. As though someone had snap-burned them.

I remember one year, the fires got 'close' and we kids were up on the roof clearing the gutters, and Abs packed things into boxes and bags.

Most of all though, I remember the sun. I could look at it through the clouds of smoke and admire the colour, and relish the quiver of fear it created. Bloodshot red to pale orange, depending on the density of the smoke - an omen of the last days, a portent of danger.

Inspired by this memory, I bought several small carnelian cabochons. They're the right colour for a sun behind bushfire smoke. I might make some earrings with them.

an auspicious something

In a world of mass produced consumerist greed, I attempt to convince random strangers that my handmade jewellery is not only elegant and aesthetically pleasing, but good for the environment and good for the soul.

1. No private vehicles are involved in my jewellery whilst my pieces are in my possesion. I walk/public transport to my suppliers. I walk to Australia Post to have the items posted across the world. No Cars, trucks or private jets!
2. I recycle where possible. Packaging, display materials, tools, icecream containers... etc.
3. No Child Labour, or Sweat Shop Labour went into any of my pendants. They are 100% made by a thirty year old woman who still lives at home.
4. They are really shiny
5. They are my own designs. Not that I'm going to claim that NO ONE ON EARTH EVER could have come up with a similar thing. But I didn't copy them from anyone. I allow room for the 'great minds think alike factor'.
6. They're mini-sculptures. Sort of like if Henry Moore wanted to get into wearable art, and went small scale with silver.

But when all is said and done, mostly I just want a rational excuse to keep making things from materials that are costed per gram. If people buy my work, then that's a pretty good reason to keep going with this expensive passion of mine. At least, that's what I keep telling myself.