Julie Powell Volume 39.5

JULIE POWELL.  Photograph by Dog Daze Studio.  PATTERNED WRAP CUFF of glass seed beads, woven off loom in peyote stitch with a needle and fishing line. This woven fabric is created and then stretched over a sterling silver wire frame, and laced with fine sterling silver wire. The flexible cuff wraps around the wrist one and a half times, 25.0 centimeters long x 3.6 centimeters high, 2015.  Jewelry photographs by Larry Sanders.

JULIE POWELL. Photograph by Dog Daze Studio. PATTERNED WRAP CUFF of glass seed beads, woven off loom in peyote stitch with a needle and fishing line. This woven fabric is created and then stretched over a sterling silver wire frame, and laced with fine sterling silver wire. The flexible cuff wraps around the wrist one and a half times, 25.0 centimeters long x 3.6 centimeters high, 2015. Jewelry photographs by Larry Sanders.

"A lot of beadwork is too precious,” says bead jewelry designer Julie Powell. A tall, lithe brunette, wearing a pair of kick-ass cowboy boots, the Boulder, Colorado-based artist is in Santa Fe for a trunk show at the prominent Casa Nova Gallery. People are crowding around, asking about her work. “What I’ve seen in beadwork, for the most part, is an ornate and intricate and somewhat overly fussy design sensibility. That doesn’t feel right to me. That really isn’t where I wanted to go.” Powell, who describes herself as a self-taught bead artist, speaks from decades of experience as a successful textile artist and designer. When she began to focus on beadwork, about 2007, she had already left behind a thriving garment business with half-a-million-dollars in annual sales, and was working as a high-level executive travelling the world for another company. It seems daunting that anyone would want to leave behind a jet-fueled life in mid-career for the solitude and meditative slowness of working with a needle and a fishing line. But she craved working again as an independent artist. Beadwork, while familiar, also beckoned her with other possibilities.

      “When I’m interested in something, I research it,” Powell says. “I look online, I look in books and magazines, I go to the library, I go to galleries, I go to stores. In order to do something new, I need to see what else is out there. I process what I see, from ancient beadwork and Native American and African traditions all the way up to the contemporary artists I see in Ornament—all kinds of beadwork, over hundreds of years. One book that was very valuable for me in terms of seeing the history of beadwork and the progressions and the changes and the tweaking was The Art of Beadwork: Historic Inspiration, Contemporary Design, by Valerie Hector.”

Powell schooled herself in beadwork techniques, building what she calls her “muscle memory. My general process is learning about how to use your hands and doing it so you understand it, whether it’s dyeing, weaving, quilting, knitting with multiple colors; whatever it is, learn how to do it, do it again and again, repeat it and learn. Then you have a certain kind of confidence.” She settled on peyote stitch and herringbone stitch for her basic bead language. Herringbone, a weaving technique using two beads at a time, makes a fluid, sinuous tube or rope that drapes well. Peyote stitch she likes better for bracelets because it preserves a firmer, more stable surface that tolerates a lot of stress from moving wrists. Just as often she combines the two stitches; “I’m not really conscious of when I switch from one to the other.”

When she transitioned to jewelry, Powell ransacked her background in textiles, re-interpreting florals from Hungarian folk art or designing with William Morris tapestries in mind. She experimented with merging techniques that she has used in the past with beadwork. A recent example, Mixed Media Cuff, is made of abstract bead embroidery extended on either side with panels of peyote-stitch beadweaving, interspersed with hand embroidery in cotton DNC floss sewn into a felt backing. Powell manipulated tension and spacing to lift the beadwork up off the surface, creating a rising and falling topography in black, red and turquoise. “All of that’s going on in one piece, and for me that was mind-blowing,” she says. “The embroidery comes from a place of just having worked with artisans in Nepal. That’s a completely different context. The Nepalese women were using satin stitch to embroider flowers on woolen mittens, but I’m applying it in a cuff. That’s very exciting for me.”

PLAITED NECKLACE of glass seed beads, woven off loom in herringbone stitch with a needle and fishing line. Strands are woven separately and then braided together and attached; with Czech fire-polished glass, handwoven toggle closure, 44.0 centimeters long x 7.5 centimeters high, 2016.

      Colors are her whole world. “Color moves every part of me,” Powell says. “I feel like that’s what makes me tick. I’ve always been that way.” Her mother told her she could name colors before she could walk (“It took me a long time to walk, let’s put it that way.”) Now she runs marathons, and her color sense is well-nigh unassailable. “I don’t have any real formula, except that I like to create a dynamic feeling of the colors playing off of each other,” Powell says. “I love old Czech, French and Venetian beads, and some Japanese, because they have amazing colors and transparencies; there’s no mistaking that they’re glass.” Her only caveat: she refuses to use delica beads. “They’re too perfect and refined. That’s not me.” She explains her aesthetic as a balance of “warm with cool tones. And while I like to combine unexpected hues, I have to consider the ‘wearability’ of my work. I often make sure each piece has some kind of gray/silver, black, bronze or gold in it to harmonize with other jewelry.” Though she avoids primaries, she will select very bright colors for cuffs or bracelets, and prefers softer, more sophisticated colors for necklaces.

Customers invariably comment on Powell’s color compositions, and she has thousands of followers on Pinterest, where she posts color boards. “Certain palettes appeal to me, and I catalogue them on Pinterest. I store inspiration there. I’ll pin everything from a bouquet of flowers to a painting to a landscape photograph. It’s about how the colors work together; I don’t care about individual colors as much as how they’re combined: light and dark, hue, value, tone—all the things that go into mixing colors are what’s interesting to me.”

SHANGHAI BAG of glass seed beads embroidered with a needle and fishing line, embellished with coral, labradorite and fire-polished glass; lined in silk, and backed with Italian wool, 13 centimeters x 15 centimeters with 112 centimeters hand-beaded strap, 2016. 

      Lining the white walls of her studio in Boulder are tall shelves stacked with glass baby-food jars of beads, bright with harlequin colors. Storage bins of cut stones—jade, labradorite, turquoise—stand rowed up beneath the shelves. A hanging abstract quilt, hand-dyed and sewn by Powell in blue-violet and rust, is the room’s only decoration. Two work desks stand close to tall sash windows, rising like portals to let the clear mountain light fill the room. The smaller desk is for metalwork. “I’ve developed quite a few pieces with beadwork stretched on sterling silver wire, like a trampoline or a corset. I’m wrapping and pounding the wire to move the beadwork from the flat plane into a three-dimensional frame.” A vintage oak library-card catalogue houses glass tubes of more beads. When she is constructing a new piece, Powell will get tubes out and think about “How do I want this to flow? How can I get it to move through and around? It’s like Asian dancing.

“It’s the idea of moving planes, of what’s traditionally thought of as a flat surface but it’s come to life by moving in unexpected ways,” Powell says. She calls the regimentation of putting down bead after bead “claustrophobic. With beadwork, you’re making decisions about every placement; everything is controlled.” But uniformity goes against her nature. “That’s partly because of my choice to use color and size over consistency. It’s engineering; solving spatial math problems, getting different shapes to lie down next to each other.”

Her surfaces seem to mimic a panorama of hills and valleys, and at the same time evoke the irregular, tactile quality of handwoven fabric. “When you touch my beadwork it’s very granular; it’s textural and organic. If I want it to go down into a gully I’ll use little beads, or I’ll pull it tighter or put in a stone that gives it a bump, to pop it out of being smooth.

“I want to make a mini-Bilbao in a cuff,” Powell says. She points to two people from different worlds as huge influences: renowned Ghanaian artist El Anatsui and architect Frank Gehry. “Gehry does it with titanium and steel; El Anatsui does it with metal bottle caps and copper wire ties.” She got to know Gehry’s architecture in Chicago; she discovered El Anatsui while on a business trip to Paris, when she walked into the Louvre and saw an enormous, suspended cloth-like assemblage. “Very often he’s present to help, but it’s up to the museum or gallery how they want to hang it, so it’s never the same. Each time it becomes another piece; it’s alive.” Powell’s Flux Panel Cuff, a tribute to El Anatsui, spreads expansively in free-form peyote-stitch panels randomly interspersed with open spaces. Like the gleaming metallics in El Anatsui’s hangings, the corrugated beadwork glitters. Up close, the reflected light suggests an ever-changing visual energy, like water coruscating over rocks in the bottom of a stream.

 
In my head I have a sense of a sine curve or a wave. I see a motion in it; I want the piece to have a life of its own. As I’m making it I’m thinking: how do I want the whole piece to be? Not the half-inch I’m working on, but the whole macrocosm.”
 

FIVE-STRAND PLAITED CUFF of glass seed beads, woven off loom in herringbone stitch with a needle and fishing line. Strands are woven separately and then braided together and attached; handwoven toggle closure, 17 centimeters long x 5 centimeters high, 2016. FLUX PANEL CUFF of glass seed beads and fire-polished glass, woven with a needle and fishing line in a sculptural manner, into an undulating fabric. Pieces are created separately and then linked together with sterling silver beads; handwoven toggle closure, 18 centimeters long x 6 centimeters high, 2012. MIXY CUFF of glass beads, woven with a needle and fishing line in peyote stitch. Various sized beads are used to create texture; embellished with fire-polished glass and stones, 17 centimeters long x 4 centimeters high, 2017.

      Capturing a sense of integral movement gives her work a distinctive edge. “In my head I have a sense of a sine curve or a wave. I see a motion in it; I want the piece to have a life of its own. As I’m making it I’m thinking: how do I want the whole piece to be? Not the half-inch I’m working on, but the whole macrocosm. Then I’ll reach for the materials that I’ll know in my technical brain will work.” She became enthralled with adapting the idea of braiding, of ‘ribbons’ that move, into beadwork: it emerged as the Plaited Necklace. “That one made me so happy. First of all I could use color. I had a palette of black, amber, bone, and red that I loved. I have always baked bread, and the beaded ribbons intertwined like braiding challah. But instead of multiple twisted ribbons all the way around the neck, I beaded continuous ribbons in different lengths that could cascade. They are each independent; you can adjust the ribbons so they fall in different combinations.” The geometric, lozenge-like pattern suggests mobility heightened by an indefinable air of whimsy and elegance, all characteristic of Powell’s art.

WISTERIA AND LEAF SQUARE KNOT NECKLACE of glass beads, woven in a spiral herringbone stitch with a needle and fishing line. The hollow tube is filled with small glass beads and then knotted into a square knot form; with recycled glass, stone beads and handwoven toggle closure, 45 centimeters
long x 5 centimeters high, 2014. 

      Sometimes, if she gets a vision for a piece, she draws it out. “Drawing comes naturally to me. I’ll do a few of them, especially for a new design or a version of a previous one. I always have a piece of paper or a sketchbook around, so if something’s brewing in my head and I wake up in the night I can interpret it. It’s like a riff: what if I change that from herringbone to another stitch; what if I did that in shades of gray instead? It’s the overall structure, form and shape. That’s where the techniques that I’ve nailed come in. I’ll look at how I want it to come out, and then decide on the execution.” She likes to share her creative process on Facebook, posting photos of pen-and-watercolor sketches partly for feedback from other artists. She may do a piece a few times before it comes right, or she may throw it all out.

Raised near New York, Powell grew up immersed in the arts. “I was surrounded by gorgeous books on crafts. We made visits to museums dozens of times a year going into the city.” Her mother was an artist and art teacher; her father, a musician and record producer, always had music playing in the house. As an undergraduate at Bowdoin College, in Maine, Powell began making handwoven jackets and handknit sweaters, spinning and dyeing all the yarns herself. For her junior year she studied textiles with Sherri Smith at the University of Michigan in Ann Arbor. In 1981, while still a student and with the wearable art movement coming into full swing, she founded her company, Periwinkle. Relocated to San Francisco, Periwinkle grew into a company with ten employees. Powell sold wholesale and at shows with other Bay Area designers. She remembers inventing her own mission control, a system of “giant white boards with colored post-its to track hundreds of orders,” and hired a production manager and a sales rep. “It was an amazing time. I learned how to get a bank loan; what you do with a purchase order; how to think about price points.”

She told herself she was a businesswoman, not an artist any more. By then Powell and her husband, an attorney, had bought their first home and had two young sons. But after twenty years, she felt depleted. Her jam-packed life had “taken away my love of creativity. You have to have the constitution to handle the stress of constant juggling, marketing and having to be accountable. Like Homer Price and the doughnut machine, eventually it felt out of control. So I decided to stop.”

POWELL stringing beaded ribbon in her studio.

      She took a break before going to work for Icelandic Designs, a multi-million-dollar knitwear corporation based in Colorado. The family moved to Boulder in 2002. For the next ten years Powell was Icelandic’s director of design and merchandising. She mastered CAD programs and Photoshop, and now freelances as a designer. One of her jobs, for a fair-trade handmade knitwear company, takes her to Nepal every year for three weeks to work with women’s cooperatives around the Kathmandu valley. Powell compares the diversity of her work to cross-training; it recharges her design mojo.

The idea of going in a new direction with her own bead embroidery struck the way inspiration tends to: she was watching her son tie a fishing fly. At first she was “doing little paintings in beads, in the style of Robin Atkins, but not to wear.” As soon as she made her first jewelry she began working fine arts fairs. “I love setting up a tent and seeing what happens; I like the outdoors, and the chance to get together with other artists. I love people trying on a piece so I can see how it looks. But for me, it’s gambling for a living. I can’t count on the shows. You drive twenty hours to get there, then there’s a rainstorm and nobody comes.”

 

BLUEBELLS AND POPPIES FIORI NECKLACE of glass beads, woven in various off-loom stitches with a needle and fishing line in a free-form style. Petals and leaves are woven and then embroidered to each other and a fabric base. Embellished with stones and fire-polished glass, the necklace is backed with Ultra-suede; back of necklace is created with a filled herringbone spiral tube, 43 centimeters long x 9 centimeters high, 2014.

 

      Powell, convinced that the internet increasingly is making everything accessible, launched her beadwork jewelry and simultaneously put up her own website, started posting on social media, and soon was selling on Artful Home to promote name recognition. Artful Home has become the premier online marketplace connecting independent artisans with consumers (they also have a print catalogue). It now accounts for nearly one-third of Powell’s business. “It helps keep me current, as an artist, and it informs me about trends.” She offers special editions of jewelry on Artful Home; and on her own site will take custom orders, say for one of her necklaces made in different colors. In February 2017, for the second year, Powell was an exhibitor at the American Craft Council show in Baltimore, which she says is “my best show ever.” These days, her work is featured in galleries, boutiques and museum shops all over the country.

One lesson she learned as an entrepreneur is the vital necessity to stay ahead. She recalls how, during a recent conversation, a knitter in Nepal pulled out a hat made from a design on Pinterest. “You have to stay innovative,” Powell says. “You have to figure out what you can make that’s going to continue appealing to people, that can meet consumer need for something that’s different.” Powell pauses, then smiles with anticipation. “I’ve got hundreds of ideas.”

 

Click on Photos for Captions

 

      Get Inspired!


Leslie Clark still quails at the memory of attempting to learn Native American loom beading. Especially she remembers the torments of trying to spear a row of beads with her needle. “Beads like to jump,” she claims, and for months found beads scattered far, far away. Left with great admiration for the prowess of bead artists, Clark was delighted to speak with bead jewelry designer Julie Powell. “Julie has an extraordinary color sense, and is breaking out in a new direction with the craft. Plus she was articulate and stimulating to talk to about her work,” Clark says. “I bet her beads behave, too.” Clark lives and writes in Santa Fe, a city where all kinds of glorious beadwork flourishes.

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Leslie Clark

Leslie Clark is a freelanced writer and editor in Santa Fe, New Mexico. Clark, who claims red is her favorite color, was flabbergasted by her visit to the “The Red That Colored the World” exhibit at the Museum of International Folk Art up on Museum Hill. “I had no idea how exhaustively people worked, for centuries, to produce a red color. No wonder kings and prelates hogged it for themselves. Cochineal changed everything. Even now, with synthetic dyes around, its amazing properties are still the best. It makes you grateful to Mother Nature and those little bugs.”

Kristina Logan Volume 39.3

TURQUOISE FLORAL PENDANT/BROOCH of flameworked glass and fabricated sterling silver, 7 centimeters diameter, 2016.  Photograph by Dean Powell. 

TURQUOISE FLORAL PENDANT/BROOCH of flameworked glass and fabricated sterling silver, 7 centimeters diameter, 2016. Photograph by Dean Powell. 

After extensive renovations, the Renwick Gallery of the Smithsonian American Art Museum reopened this past July with a stellar showcase of objects from its permanent collection. “Connections: Contemporary Craft at the Renwick Gallery,” which is ongoing, offers eighty-plus eclectic and engaging examples of craft art, from the Eames brothers’ plywood Leg Splint, 1942, to Judith Schaechter’s stained glass The Birth of Eve, 2013. Curated by Nora Atkinson, the Lloyd Herman Curator of Craft, the exhibition works by association rather than by chronology, seeking to emulate today’s hyperlinked world.

      Kristina Logan is represented by a brooch/pendant featuring a pattern of cobalt and silver accented with a ring of sterling dots. The lampworked soda-lime glass and sterling silver piece, made in 2001, is displayed alongside Alexander Calder’s undated hammered copper Necklace. In a video produced for the show, Logan speaks about Calder and their aesthetic ties. She loves how he used simple materials and created value “by infusing them with creative energy, ideas and careful mark-making.” Glass, like brass and copper, she notes, “has little intrinsic value, but it is the artist’s hand and spirit” that can give them worth.

Logan’s appearance in the Renwick show comes as no surprise: over the past twenty-five years, she has become one of the foremost glass bead artists in the world. Her work is in major collections, including the Museum of Fine Arts in Boston, and she has earned special recognition in her field, including the title “Dot Queen”—for the marvelous array of dots that accent her beads.

Certain of Logan’s designs, such as the Constellation necklace and the Cactus bead, are icons of contemporary beadwork. Her brooches, pendants, rings, and necklaces mesmerize. Kaleidoscopic disks set in sterling silver dazzle the eye.

COLLECTION OF TOTEM BEADS of flameworked glass, largest bead 10 centimeters long, 2000-2003.  Photograph by Dean Powell.

COLLECTION OF TOTEM BEADS of flameworked glass, largest bead 10 centimeters long, 2000-2003. Photograph by Dean Powell.

     Having started out making single beads, today Logan is the creator of reliquaries, candlesticks, goblets, teapots, chalices, and other objects that incorporate her beadwork. She is increasingly interested in pushing the boundaries of scale while retaining her intricate details. She is currently finishing up several statuesque drinking vessels inspired by eighteenth-century Nuremberg goblets she discovered in the Corning Museum of Glass. While the profile of her lidded goblets are similar to those early ones, the flameworked, pâte de verre and bronze pieces are “incredibly different” on a tactile level. One of them was featured in the recent exhibition “Beginnings” at the Corning Museum of Glass.

When asked about the evolution of her designs, Logan admits to progressing in geological time—very slowly. If you were to look at her beads today alongside ones she made early on, you would be able, she avers, to see the lineage. She does make drawings—of the brooches and metalwork—but the bead designs arise from experimentation. Once in a while an idea will come to her when she is not looking for it, at three in the morning, but ninety-nine percent of the time it happens when she is in the studio. She believes the constant pattern of work brings ideas. “I believe in that preparation,” she has stated. The concentration that comes with deadlines helps spur the work forward.

GOBLET of glass, bronze, silver, steel, lost wax cast and flameworked glass, cast bronze, 11.43 x 11.43 x 33.02 centimeters, 2016. Photograph by Bill Truslow.

     Logan’s beads are marked by opaque and transparent layers—“That’s how I find color,” she says. Starting with a “Crayola box of all the colors,” she uses layering to play subtle variations on the palette, thereby altering the design from piece to piece. She relishes this exploration of tint and shade and hue. Early on Logan was not always comfortable with color, and has noted, she “may have been afraid of it.” It was not the color in flameworking that interested her so much as the fluidity and movement of melting glass.

Logan likes working in series, “beading an idea to death,” she says with a smile, until she gets it right. She loves the refining process, a “precision” that comes “from hours and hours of going back over the same concept again and again,” deepening the vocabulary along the way. While she admires artists who can jump ideas, it is not in her DNA to work that way.

Architectural detail has been an important inspiration, be it East Indian doorways, Moroccan tiles, or mosaics from the pre-Renaissance and Renaissance. European reliquaries from 1300-1500, the bronze armatures found in Louis Comfort Tiffany’s work—these also inspire, as do patterns in nature. One collection of brooches got its start after Logan came across a book on ancient shields of Africa, South East Asia and Oceania from the Barbier-Mueller Museum collection in Geneva, Switzerland.

Logan has made it her mission to challenge the stereotype of bead jewelry, namely, beads strung together or with knots between them, like a string of pearls or a rosary. She is committed to connecting beads with metal in a way that is nontraditional, that “counteracts that idea of stringing.” To that end she cuts, drills and grinds her beads, in the process taking them to a new place in the realm of ornament. She is an innovator.

COLLECTION of large disk beads in flameworked glass, 5.08 centimeters diameter, 2016. Photograph by Kristina Logan.

     Kristina Logan was born in Worcester, Massachusetts, but spent much of her early life in New Hampshire’s White Mountains; she considers the Plymouth/Waterville Valley area her home. She boasts significant artistic genes, especially when it comes to working with her hands. Her mother, Reg Logan, née Surette, was a fashion illustrator at a time when newspaper and magazine advertisements were hand-drawn; today, she makes insect jewelry and ceramic objects. Logan’s grandmother, Reggie Surette, also worked in illustration, hand-drawing and -coloring for the Rust Craft Greeting Card Company, while her grandfather, Eliot Surette, did restoration in churches in the Boston area.

Growing up in this artistic milieu Logan recalls thinking that she, too, would draw for a living. In turn, she tells her own children, nine-year-old Valère and twelve-year-old Sophia, that she can tell that they already have the family hands. One of her necklace designs, a lively and playful collection of round beads, is named for her daughter.

Logan earned a BFA in sculpture at the University of New Hampshire in Durham in 1987. The all-star faculty included painter John Hatch (1919-1998), printmaker and draftsman Sigmund Abeles, and sculptor Michael McConnell (1948-2012). She appreciated the focus they placed on the foundations for making art—and their stories of life in New York City. She ended up embracing 3-D and carving in wood, sometimes with a chainsaw.

After moving to the coast of New Hampshire, Logan chanced into a job working for the renowned glass artist Dan Dailey in Kensington. “He needed people with good hands,” she recalls, and she fit the bill. In the four years in his studio, she received an education in glass. She did a lot of enameling on vases, as well as sandblasting, cold working, studio organizing “and making sure that pieces got to factories in West Virginia to be dipped in acid, and got back home again.”

One night while attending Pilchuk Glass School, Logan spied someone flameworking. She remembers thinking, “Oh, man, you mean I can do glass by myself? Without an enormous studio?” While she appreciates the sense of teamwork found among a group of glass blowers, she prefers working alone. As she noted in a 2009 interview, she likes the feeling of being self-reliant. 

Logan-LR-DSC_0957.jpg

     Logan was at Pilchuk to take a class in pâte de verre, which she describes as a kind of lost wax casting technique for glass. She was interested in trying to incorporate cast parts into the wood sculptures she was making at the time, but she found herself “seduced” by the flame and melting glass, by the intimacy and smaller scale of this work—“a torch and two hands.”

When she began to make beads, Logan was not all that serious. It was an amusement; “Oh, I’ll make some beads, it’ll be great, I’ll sell them for a dollar,” she recalls thinking. She had no idea that she would become fascinated by the rich cultural and anthropological history and reach of beadmaking. “All of a sudden,” she recounts, “I kind of plummeted into this world that I now exist in and adore.”

For a time Logan sold individual beads that other people would use to make jewelry. She attended bead shows, loading up her Volkswagen van and hitting the road. It afforded her a modest living and was “very empowering.” After a while, however, she wanted to make something out of the beads. She began collaborating with a jeweler friend who taught her how to solder. Soon she was making a few pieces of her own and loved it.

PREPARING the silver prior to soldering for Ivory and Red Constellation Necklace, 2015. Photograph by Kristina Logan.

     Logan never went to school for metalwork, but she knew enough to make the pieces she wanted to produce. If she wished to try something new, she would ask a friend—and sometimes her mother—how to do it. “I’ve always learned metalsmithing through osmosis,” she says. Formal training came from a few evening classes with the Australian silversmith Alan Place who worked for a time at Old Newbury Crafters in Amesbury, Massachusetts.

In her thirties Logan “induced” arthritis in the cartilage in her left thumb from nearly non-stop beadmaking. Taken aback by the idea that one could wear out a body part at that age, she wore a brace for a while, but continued to work as hard as ever. Eventually realizing that she could no longer be a “bead machine,” Logan began making larger objects and combining glass and metals. Returning to her sculptural roots, to what was important to her as an artist, she needed to invest more heart into her work in order “to feel better about myself and not have my hands wear out.”At the same time Logan began to see the potential of beads as sculptural forms. Individual beads could be resonant objects that people might carry around with them, like a Japanese netsuke or a marble—“a small piece that holds importance.” She came to believe that an object could be made so carefully that it could hold “spiritual content” without being attached to any specific religion.

Logan’s totem beads, inspired by ancient African granite beads, epitomize this belief. She started out making them as handles for objects, but never made the actual object for the handle. While she has made a few brooches out of them, she feels they connect to the hand more than anything.

Logan likes working in series, ‘beading an idea to death,’ she says with a smile, until she gets it right. She loves the refining process, a ‘precision’ that comes ‘from hours and hours of going back over the same concept again and again,’ deepening the vocabulary along the way. While she admires artists who can jump ideas, it is not in her DNA to work that way.

     The “Contemporary Glass Bead Exhibition” in Prescott, Arizona, in 1993 proved to be a turning point, both for Logan and the universe of bead artists. “You can kind of call that the beginning of the glass bead movement,” she says. About eighty people came together and realized, “Hey, we’re all making glass beads! We’re a society.” The Society of Glass Beadmakers, later changed to the International Society of Glass Beadmakers, was born. Logan would serve as its president in 1996-1998 and later, in 2005, win its Hall of Flame award. Its annual conference, called “The Gathering,” takes place in a different spot each year. While the ISGB has, says Logan, waxed and waned over the years, “we still get together.”

KRISTINA LOGAN’S STUDIO, designed and built by Michael Graf. Photograph by Kristen Fuller.

     Asked about how she balances teaching with her artmaking, Logan estimates that ninety percent of the time she is working alone in the studio—“just me making”—with the balance spent leading workshops. In addition to instructorships at Haystack, the Corning Museum, Penland, and other schools and private studios further afield, she has started offering bead workshops at her new studio in Portsmouth. Being around other artists and interacting with students charges her up.

In the workshop at Haystack, assisted by bead artist Priscilla Turner Spada from Newburyport, Massachusetts, Logan taught flamework technique—“all beads, all the time”—plus how to insert silver rivets in the bead holes. Seated before torches attached to three benches set along a wall of windows overlooking Jericho Bay, the students gamely wound the melting soda-lime glass canes around mandrels and listened as Logan shared the thought process that goes into creating her beads.

Logan has sought to impart her knowledge of her art to an ever broader audience. In 2009, the Corning Museum of Glass helped in that mission, producing “Beadmaking with Kristina Logan,” the seventh installment in its Master Class series. In the thirty-minute video Logan offers insight into her artistic principles. She notes, for example, that she has never turned away from making smaller beads because “it all serves the greater purpose, to have your hands ready to work with this molten material.” She also admits she is not a fast beadmaker. Indeed, she encourages her students to “seek ease and the fewest movements possible.” She likens it to her yoga practice “where your movement and your breath are very much connected to your mind at the same time.”

IVORY AND RED CONSTELLATION NECKLACE of flameworked glass and fabricated sterling silver, 4.45 x 1.27 x 66.04 centimeters, 2015. Photograph by Dean Powell.

      “Bead people are passionate about beads,” Logan says. They understand the primal connection people have to these pieces of glass and how they are worn on the body. They also appreciate, as she does, the long lineage of beadwork in the cultures of the world. These beautiful objects bring people together “on a heart level.” That is the level to which Logan aspires, in art and life.

SUGGESTED READING 
Benesh, Carolyn L. E. “Kristina Logan. A Luminous Aesthetic.” Ornament 21.4: 42-45, 1998.
DeDominicis, Jill. “Kristina Logan. Master Class in Glass Beadmaking.” Ornament 30.3: 64-67, 2007.
Dubin, Lois Sherr. The History of Beads: From 100,000 B.C. to the Present, revised and expanded edition. New York: Harry N. Abrams, 2009.
Hemachandra, Ray, editor. The Penland Book of Glass: Master Classes in Flamework Techniques. Lark Crafts, 2011.
Jenkins, Cindy. Making Glass Beads (Beadwork Books). New York: Lark Books, 1997.
Logan, Kristina. “Creative Process and Inspiration.” Glass Bead Evolution. International Society of Glass Beadmakers, Vol. 2, No. 2, 2014.
     Masters: Glass Beads: Major Works by Leading Artists. New York: Lark Books, 2008.
     1000 Glass Beads: Innovation & Imagination in Contemporary Glass Beadmaking. New York: Lark Books, 2004.

 

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Carl Little caught up with Kristina Logan in late August at the Haystack Mountain School of Crafts on Deer Isle where she was teaching a workshop on glass beadmaking. Based in Portsmouth, New Hampshire, Logan is “the leading maker of glass beads working today,” according to David Whitehouse, executive director of the Corning Museum of Glass. Little is one of twenty poets featured in a series of videos produced during Maine poet laureate Wesley McNair’s tenure. They can be viewed on the University of Maine website. His most recent book is Wendy Turner—Island Light.

Zhou Dynasty Glass Volume 38.4 Preview

Zhou Dynasty Glass and Silicate Jewelry

 

Since I began studying the faience, glass and other silicate ornaments of the Zhou Dynasty in 1975, this field has undergone a sharp dichotomy. While previously mostly foreign scientists or Chinese outside of China researched their chemical makeup, age and stylistics, in the past decades Chinese themselves have begun to intensively study their composition, through sophisticated non-destructive techniques like XRF and Raman spectroscopy, but with little attention to their typology, chronology or how they were made or used, despite the enormous increase in number of excavated sites bearing such beads (Gan 2009; Kwan 2001, 2013; Lankton and Dussubieux 2006, 2013; Li et al., 2015; Liu 1975, 1991, 2005, 2013; Yang et al., 2013; Zhu 2013). Now regarded as important cultural relics, beads of the Zhou/Han times were widely sold since at least the 1990s on the world antiquities markets, often sourced by looting, and which are still available (Murphy 1995; Liu 1996-1997).

      Faience, composite silicates and glass came late to China, lagging behind the Near East; faience about 1000 B.C. and composite silicates, frit and glass in the Spring and Autumn/Warring States (W.S.) periods of the Zhou dynasty. By then, bronze and stone industries were well established, with the former using sophisticated piece-mold and core-casting, while the latter employed similarly advanced lapidary technology. Even in the 1970s, I realized that these early Chinese glassworkers had adapted some of these same techniques for fabricating their glass ornaments, as seen in mold-cast, press-molded and lapidary-finished Zhou and Han glass artifacts. My own research on composite beads also implicates the role of early ceramics.

 

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Robert K. Liu is Coeditor of Ornament and for many years its in-house photographer. His new book, The Photography of Personal Adornment, covers forty plus years of shooting jewelry, clothing and events related to wearable art, both in and out of the Ornament studio. In this issue he writes about the extraordinary crafting of Zhou Dynasty/Warring States faience, glass and other silicate ornaments, as well as their complexity.

Maryland to Murano Volume 38.1 Preview

Maryland to Murano. Neckpieces and Sculptures
by Joyce J. Scott

VIRGIN OF GUADALUPE AND CLOSEUP of woven glass beads, 35.6 x 22.9 centimeters, 2009. BREATHE of hand-blown Murano glass, beads, wire, thread, 52.1 x 49.5 x 5.1 centimeters, 2014. Photographs by Patrick R. Benesh-Liu. VESSEL of woven glass beads, mixed media, wire, 35.6 x 30.5 x 30.5 centimeters, 2006. Photograph by Carolyn L. E. Benesh.

The question of how stories come into being is not something we tend to consider; indeed, our predilection is for enjoying them, not questioning how they came about. But the DNA strands of the narrative wind themselves together from happenstance and memory, chance encounters and relationships between people, objects and ideas. If one were to see this ephemeral process translated into physical form, there is no need to look any further than the complicated web of connections created by master beadworker Joyce J. Scott.