Cherry Walk

Yesterday I spent several hours walking around Central Park behind the Metropolitan Museum. It is a short trip to New York, but the first one I have taken in nearly a month and it seems so different now than it did the last time I was here. I've enjoyed walking amongst the fallen leaves of the cherry trees that are in bloom everywhere. It is so similar to snow. The cherry leaves along the sides of the paths are undisturbed and piled high still fragile and lush with life. Yet, the ones in the middle of the paths, like snow that has been walked through, have broken down and are wet. It shares great similarity with winter snow and how people passing through it define themselves in a physical way in the landscape.

We, as people, impose ourselves in so many different ways that range from subtle to bold, yet there are times of the year that frame our perceptions and our acknowledgement more than others. This week I had noted a sensitivity to sculpture that never existed during the winter. Nobody seems to see the sculptures in the parks until spring. Why is that? Is it because the bronze shows up against green leaves better than it does against grey skies? Or is it because in the winter, psychologically, we are less attuned to paying attention to things outside. I think about this stuff all the time as it relates to jewelry. Why is turquoise a summer color and not a Fall color? I certainly understand that aqua blue is not a shade of a leaf in Fall, but why is it such an attractive color in springtime? Leaves don't turn aqua blue then either. I think it is because we associate the color with the tropics and the beautiful water of the Caribbean, or to take it a step further, water in general. Note, however, that aqua is most commonly found in Arizona in Indian jewelry, far from the water's edge. I'm making a lot of pieces out of turquoise right now, including a beautiful piece for a young woman, in aqua and rubies. Historically, turquoise has been used with coral to expand on the aquatic theme, most notably in the Van Cleef jewelry in the 1960s, as well as silver in Indian jewelry and in some Art Deco pieces, alongside onyx and white diamonds. The last example being the work of Cartier for the opening of the Suez Canal. Most of those pieces involved scarabs and Egyptian themes. I personally consider the Van Cleef and Cartier pieces aforementioned as some of the most important and beautiful pieces of jewelry ever created. Books of both jewelers are full of unique examples of these genres. However, having said that, I believe turquoise has been so under-utilized as an opaque stone. The pieces I have been making have been combinations of turquoise and transparent gem stones rarely seen together. I love turquoise and orange fire opal. The combination of turquoise and rubelite is extraordinary. Ruby and turquoise is electric, both hot and cold colors working alongside one another. It is especially important to know that we will not see turquoise quite the same way in the future. The Sleeping Beauty mine in Arizona, which is America's equivalent to Persian turquoise, is no longer going to be mined. No longer will we be able to see new turquoise material without matrix. Hopefully, we shall find another mine that gives us that extraordinary color in a form of a gem stone I'm so excited for this weekend. The plan is to bicycle the Natchez Trace from Jackson to Natchez in Mississippi. It is a one hundred mile bike ride that finishes at a Tamale restaurant overlooking the Mississippi. The ride gives me the opportunity to think for six hours unimpeded by the telephone or other parts of modern life. I've done the ride before and all I think about are the many colors of springtime and the possibilities of creating pieces of jewelry that I hope become little sculptures that make their presence known more pointedly at one part of the year as opposed to another. The colors will dictate when we see them more, when we see them less, and what statements they make. I had a conversation with a young woman this morning at an Art Gallery. We were looking at Kenneth Nolan paintings at Mitchell-Innes and Nash. Kenneth was a friend and a very sweet man. We used to drink wine together in Maine in the winters and I had some of the most interesting talks with him that I have ever had regarding art. He taught me so much and I was so sad that he passed away this year, but I was fortunate enough to buy one of his paintings before he died. He was my introduction to color field and perhaps the best voice of the importance of color. Color has such fabulous energy. Without form, color can still tell wonderful stories because of our associations. It holds power. It holds passion. It holds the emotion the artist wants to convey, but the seasons and the light and our mood define the delivery. I remember writing about watermelon last year at this time and what a fabulous color it is. I think if I go back and look at my blogs that came after the ride, watermelon was a major theme. I saw a painting yesterday at Gagosian uptown by an artist named Malevich that was the most beautiful watermelon color. It took me a full year to find a physical example of a color that I spent a lot of time thinking about during my last year's bike ride. I'm very excited for Saturday and the daydreams about specific hues of color that I know have no option but to come to mind. It always plays such an important role in the creative process. I apologize for free association in this blog, but it is a passionate time of the year and I'm feeling especially keen. One of the most fortunate things I have been privy to is experiencing Spring twice. Once in NOLA and once again in the North East. I'm planning a big birthday this year and a number of trips with great excitement and the jewelry I expect will follow suit.