In one way or another, we know the world through our bodies. They are complex machines–contained chaos, if you will–and infinitely fascinating. It is no surprise to me that artists, philosophers and sociologists (among many) return to the body as a site of investigation and exploration. The artists below offer an especially intriguing framework for considering the human body–they offer up adornment that fragments it and turns it into an object to be worn. A represented body could refer to someone specific or no one in particular–either way, when it is turned into jewelry and worn by someone it becomes a part of that body, the wearer’s body, and a cycle of meaning is created that consistently refers one to the other.



Jessica Calderwood, Blink (enamel, copper and sterling silver)


chrysanthemum_red  chrysanthemums

Heather White, Chrysanthemums (brooches, 2004, sterling silver and cast resin teeth)



Julia Harrison, A Dozen Rose Buds (brooches of wood, lacquer, gouache, epoxy + more)



Margaux Lange, The Kiss (sterling silver, plastic and epoxy resin)



Sarah J.G. Wauzynski, Small Demands (brooch in sterling silver, egg tempera pigment and 18kt gold)



Ineke Heerkens, Ring (leather)



Stacy Rodgers, Breasts



Melanie Bilenker, Feet (2007; brooch of gold, sterling silver, ebony, resin, pigment and hair, 1 x 7/8 x 3/8 in.)






I like the action suggested by the statement “by a thread.” Of course, without a verb, it also suggests something surreal–as if the thread itself was animate. And in a way, thread is active for a time–put in motion as it is drawn through the fibers. Thread always feels “alive” to me and I think this is partly due to the way it reflects a certain kind of labor and human presence. Embroidery and stitching, similar to other handcrafts, have been readdressed in recent years, with a coterie of artists reinvigorating the conversation and using the technique not only for its tactile or visual appeal but also as a way to touch on issues of labor, gender, handcraft, consumerism, notions of the decorative, time, individual and collective memory and personal history. This has happened all the while those who may have embroidered as a “pastime” continue to do so, creating an interesting dialogue across groups of people who have not always been engaged. Whether or not an artist learned how to embroider or stitch in their youth is always an interesting question–personal experience through several exhibitions would suggest that many (but not all) are indeed drawing on earlier memories or techniques learned (whether specifically embroidery or not). The following are just a few of those working the needle in some interesting and thought-provoking directions…(sorry there are not details for all, trust that these are as luscious as you think they might be.)



Anna Lorich, Embroidered Pillow Rings (Cloth, thread and cotton)


Recyled Ring’s Edith Cameo Brooch on Etsy



Angelo Filomeno, My Love Sings When the Flower is Near (The Philosopher and the Woman), (2007, Embroidery on silk shantung stretched over linen with crystals; 150 x 90 in.)





Stacey Lee Webber, Fancywork (one dollar bills and thread)





Yu-Chun Chen




Xiang Yang, Here and There




Reddish Studio, X-table (wood and thread)


In the 18th century, an aristocratic gentleman compared the yards of lace around his neck to the land and fields he owned, suggesting that his sartorial finery was worth as much as his geographic property (both being worth a lot of money and functioning, basically, as inventory). Unlike this man, lace is not something I thought a lot about until about 5 years ago. Lace making was not something anyone in my family spent time doing and lace itself was something that I had to avoid wearing. Then I began to see lace (and the utilization of other handcraft techniques–a whole other exhibition and topic I pondered and which will appear in later posts) in brand new work that looked to it as something vital, energizing, fascinating. To be sure, lace never went anywhere. Its heyday as an industry was long over but there are still those who carry on the tradition–updating it, embracing it. And what lace “means” today both in practice and in content is not the same as lace of the past but the history has become an energy that fuels its continuation and adaptation. Lace is about labor and the work of the hand and mind–regardless of materials or ultimate endpoint, the exploration of lace itself is a demanding endeavor. And, even with all of these comments about what lace “is”, it also holds a mysterious, romantic power that cannot be adequately discussed–a power that is respected and explored but, for those truly enamored, not something that can be reasoned.


Anya Kivarkis, DOUBLE CUP BROOCH (Sterling silver and enamel). See more of her work at the awesome Sienna Gallery website

The vintage black lace cover-up/lingerie jacket from the 1950s is lace at its most intimate–originally only meant to be worn indoors as a “cover” to something else. But, and a point taken up later by others, it reveals as much as it conceals. And, black lace was naugh-tay back in the day–a reality that might still be connected with lace (and black lingerie) depending on the context. Anya Kivarkis’ brooch plays specifically with the 1950s camisole kind of “sexy” lace–evoking earlier fibrous lace but complicating it even more, and, in the form of jewelry, questioning its luxury, its ornamental status its relationship to the personal, to the feminine, to the domestic, to the old-fashioned, and the the racy.


Betsy Brandt, WHIRL (Hot glue and pigment, 14 ft. diameter)

Betsy Brandt picks up on lace as signifier of the feminine and domestic but immediately renegotiates the conversation by creating a 14 ft. doily of hot glue and pigment that becomes simultaneously a “carpet” and a swirling mass of form, color and meaning. No longer lace in its familiar form, Brandt’s doily demands we consider the processes of making (first for this piece then for all lace), the significance of questions about gender and gender roles, and notions about what constitutes pretty.


Anna Lindsay MacDonald

And, the wearable lace “maps” of Anna Lindsay MacDonald bring lace back to the body but cement its presence within a larger realm. MacDonald was not first inspired by lace–she has been interested in the interweaving of city streets and the mapping of urban spaces, but has since realized the formal connection between the street networks and the patterning of lace. The concepts of pattern and ornamentation link jewelry, lace, and the maps she was making. With her jewelry, lace has come full circle, in a way, linking the land back to the fiber network back to the body (just like that earlier aristocrat).


For full disclosure, this posting’s title is the same as that of an exhibition I curated (publication pending) that included both historical lace and contemporary objects that were inspired by or utilized lace (generated by those trained within the “art world” and by those who have addressed lace as a pastime and a passion.) While this posting emphasizes jewelry, that exhibition included cut and quilled paper, painting, mylar drawings, 5 ft. cedar lace “collars” and more.) Extraordinary artists and extraordinary work.