A Question of Balance.

I just received my FIRST show rejection. Finally! It feels good. The rejection still had the bite of “thanks, but no thanks” but after nearly 30 years of not really risking myself artistically, that little nibble on my ego is a welcome pain, and makes me feel like I am now an actually an artist.

While the real Glitterati and jewelry luminaries are cavorting in New York, NewYork (a place I tried to live once), I am cooking dinner and preparing for the end of the fall trimester in a delightful institution for the best and brightest high school students in Southeastern New England.

Over the last 5 years I have watched the metals world on my social media feed. I cheered as Sulo Bee @sparkle_filth worked their a$$ off to find their voice and place in the pantheon of metalsmiths. Ogled the exquisite taste and large scope of artists brought to me by @athousandfacets. I attended virtual conferences that introduced me to artisans far and wide who brought me into their studios and talked about process, technique, message and tenacity. I had courtside seats for the unexpected explosion of crème brûlée torch jewelers as they emerged from their pandemic palaces of self taught silver soldering and kitchen table studio set ups. Their chutzpah and Instagram following making them profitable, energized and admired. My jaw is regularly dusting the floor as the wide world of maximalist luxury and art intersect at Schmuck Munich, Goldsmiths Fair, and NYC Jewelry Week. This is not the yearly SNAG conference world I left at the dawning of the internet when a good show card image could last you a few years.

Now, here I am, the ultimate “late bloomer,” getting my first real taste of rejection and loving it. It started when I was propelled into action by a comment made on a zoom call. An off hand remark that lit the fire of my Hoke torch. It came from an undergrad classmate, who also happens to be a professor of a well recognized metals program, and an internationally exhibited metals artist.

Between the existential reality check of living through a pandemic and a life time supply of jewelry supplies gathering dust in my basement, TK Smith Jewelry emerged.

My recent submission was a necklace I made after a mysterious health trauma this summer. I call it In Search of Balance (Heart Attack Necklace). I have been in shows before. Mostly local, mostly ones I was invited to or had occasion to be a curator or member of the gallery coop that was mounting the show. This was my first real cast into the rushing river of the metals world beyond my knowing, and it was refreshing!

In August I experienced a cardiac event. Doctors were confused and the cause remains a mystery. I was told to “relax” and banned from working at my bench for two weeks. While the overhand knot is not in my comfort zone, I risked the stress, so I could keep working and not lose the momentum I had gained toward publishing this website and planning to enter a few shows this past September. Beading became part of my healing process. Researching malas and chakra alignment ( I am, after all, a daughter of the “new age” era at the end of the 80’s), I plunged into my stash of gemstone beads, some of which are actually from that distant, incense filled past. Stringing irregular rhythms of shape, color and meaning while compiling a wide list of stones for the 7 (or 8) chakras allowed me to teach myself a new language. To the initiated, this necklace reads like an index of healing gems. To the casual viewer it is a whimsical but grounded assortment of colors and textures, pleasing to the eye and pleasant to wear. This necklace is a reminder to slow down, stay balanced and listen to my heart.

I missed two intended show deadlines, but here I am, thoughtful rejection email under my belt and ready for more.

Tricia K Smith lives, writes and makes her work in New Bedford MA.