Hi Laurie,
Many of us have had to face this exact decision at some point(s) in
our careers. One thing that I didn’t find in your post is a sense of
where you ulimately wish to be? Do you see yourself ideally as an
independent metalsmith, a bench jeweler, a custom person in an
elegant store. Or maybe you wish to be on the cover of Metalsmith
magazine or, conversely, Jeweler’s Circular Keystone or Modern
Jeweler.
Regardless, all of the scenarios you listed have something to offer.
But with the benefit of hindsight I’d take the opportunity presented
by the independent artists. There’s much to learn there, not the
least of which is how to conduct yourself as an independent designer/
artists/ craftsperson and run a business. You also have the
opportunity to do a little teaching. The other jobs that you
mentioned will come around, in some form, again.
I’ve included an essay that you might find helpful or maybe just
amusing. At any rate give it a read, if you like. There’s more
writing on my web site–andycooperman.com.
Good luck and keep us posted.
Andy
STARTING OUT
Andy Cooperman 2006
True story: Early spring 1987. My first official solo custom client
after moving to Washington State. The sister of our landlord’s wife
wanted a wedding ring built in gold, set w/ two small diamonds and a
square cut pink sapphire. We met several times, in Seattle and in her
suburban town, to discuss drawings-- I produced over 20 carefully
rendered color sketches-- examine stones and approve wax carvings.
Having finished the ring, which also involved the making of a rubber
mold, I cheerfully drove my 1979 V8 GMC gas lovin’ pickup somewhere
into the country and delivered the completed piece to my client, who
then invited me to the wedding reception where-- if I wouldn’t mind–
she’d really appreciate me tending bar, since I probably wouldn’t
know that many people any way. Price tag? $250.00
I told this story to a friend and colleague recently who is trying
to establish himself as a goldsmith after recently finishing a
university undergraduate degree in jewelry and metalsmithing. My
friend is on the horns of a dilemma: to work for another metalsmith
producing their line of jewelry or to take a low paying grunt type of
job in the commercial jewelry industry where he would learn through
doing or maybe to work at a non related job, for a higher wage, buy a
home, sock some cash away and pursue his passion in the off time.
Tough decision, one that I suppose depends to a large part on how
much he really wants to be a successful jeweler or metalsmith, and
just how he defines those terms. Working for another artist might
allow you to gain speed and proficiency at, say, soldering,
fabrication, setting and finishing. It’s inarguably a great way to
gain an education in production methods, gallery communications and
the operation of a business in general. Being in another artist’s
space can be quite positive, can give you some exposure for your own
work and allow you to use and discover tools and processes that you
had no idea existed. You may even be able to subcontract piecework
from your own studio, a situation some find more comfortable. If you
have your sights set on establishing yourself as a production
jewelry artist, for instance, than working for one can be invaluable.
The downside is that the skills you learn may be very specific and
the work itself can become repetitive. However, as a friend once
reminded me, there’s more to be learned from a job than dry technique
and sound business practices; working with or for another artist can
offer life lessons that cannot be had elsewhere. Watching another
artist integrate their work into the rest of their life–especially
when the studio demands so much physical and mental energy-- and
seeing how they conduct themselves in an ethical manner under what
can be trying circumstances are object lessons that can truly change
your life. It’s knowledge that perhaps can only be found in this
type of situation.
Working at the bench in a jewelry store or “trade shop” situation is
another deal entirely. You may start at the bottom, often in the
polishing room–which is as bad as it sounds. This won’t last for
ever and with some advancement things can look up and you can gain
some real experience in soldering, fabricating, repair, maybe wax
carving and casting and eventually setting. You get to try a wide
variety of techniques on a vast assortment of jewelry and, although
much of it is often mind numbingly banal and simplistically designed,
this variety offers myriad opportunities to learn. Learning how to
repair jewelry, for instance, is one of those unexpected yet
incredibly useful skill sets that applies to situations one can
never dream of. You get to sit next to old timers who may be really
great people willing to share their tricks and short cuts or paranoid
sociopaths who wrap their benches in tin foil because they believe
that you’re broadcasting thought rays to steal their carefully
guarded knowledge. (Even the kindly old timer may not understand
"jewelry art" and by the 187th time you’ve heard the term
"artsy-fartsy" you’ll be ready to wrap him in tin foil.) This is
learning in the trenches. The pay may not be great and the
environment nerve wracking, but the potential to learn is huge. This
is all about technique and, at times, customer service; things that
school may have fallen a bit short on. (Besides, there’s often the
text book way to do something and the real world way.) It can be
humbling. But if you want to be a goldsmith or studio jeweler or want
to establish a sound technical vocabulary or gain experience with
retail and wholesale clients then this is a great path to choose. You
will become fast and you will become good. The drawback here is that
the “trade” carries it’s own frustrations, the festive holiday
season, personality clashes and territoriality being just a few.
Perhaps the biggest danger lying along this path is what I’ve come
to call “Imperial Conditioning”. Years spent at the bench in a market
driven environment may tend to make a metalsmith more cautious and
conservative in the design and material choices that they make. This
influence can last a long, long time.
Working at a decently paying job not related to the jewelry
industry, buying a house and socking away cash sounds great. Taking
care of life’s essentials and pursuing your passion in your spare
time is sound, adult thinking. But what spare time would that be? You
may be one of those renaissance people who can do it all: work all
day, drive home, cook dinner, remodel the house, create passionate
evenings for the spouse, partner or significant other and build
wonderful, thoughtful brooches that comment on late 20 th century
angst and the need for ritual and community in modern life. I’m not
one of those people. I need to sleep. It’s the rare metalsmith that I
see who hasn’t submerged themselves somehow in the field and is still
really good. Technical proficiency and depth of thought are most
often achieved by constant exposure to process and to ideas.
As for me, I viewed every jewelry related job as another brick in
the foundation. I steeped myself in the metals world, working days at
the bench at a variety of jewelry stores and trade type of shops and
working in my own studio nights and weekends, even spending several
years making crowns and bridges in a dentist office where I really
learned to cast and be comfortable w/ the process. I tried the
production route and attempted to market a line of cast sterling
jewelry which, wearing a dark blue blazer, I carried in a briefcase
from store to store and from booth to booth at gift and wholesale
shows. (This led directly to a gallery affiliation and a custom
jewelry relationship, both of which lasted for many years.) I sent my
slides to calls for entry to juried exhibitions and mailed more
slides along with cover letters to countless galleries that caught my
eye in the pages of Metalsmith, Ornament and American Craft. I
applied for grants and competitions.
There’s many ways to approach your career. But never forget that
opportunities come in many guises: a staff position at a gallery, a
job in the trade or at a supply house. Along the way, find your
particular voice and once you have, generate a cohesive, recognizable
body of work. Remember that this is your edge, the one thing that
truly sets you apart from the pack. Have good, professional quality
images of this work ready to send to whoever asks. (Slide dupe and
scanning costs can add up, but it’s pretty cheap advertising when you
think of it.) Get your name out there. Speak about your work whenever
asked to-- no venue is too small. Write about your work-- you don’t
have to show it to anyone, but it will aid you in clarifying your
vision. Keep your ears open: Ask for feedback from galleries, clients
and colleagues and consider it when it’s offered; it can be
invaluable. Learn to live with the fear of failure and don’t let it
get in the way. Sometimes you will fail; learn from it and then put
it behind you. Always remember to follow through and do something if
you’ve said that you will. Nothing can compete with the sour taste
left in the mouth of a client or colleague left hanging. Plow the
profits back into the studio for a while if you can. Build up your
equipment. Take risks sometimes. Kiss some ass if you have to–you
won’t have to pucker forever.
The point of my story: Don’t pass up any opportunity. Nothing is too
small when you’re starting out. You may take it in the shorts a few
times and some people are going to walk away with some really great
deals. But keep your eyes on the prize. Remember that this is like
the stock market: you’re in it for the long haul. I have clients now
who are third and fourth generation referrals.
Having a home, a family, a nice car, and a social life are certainly
not achievements that mutually exclude a successful career as an
artist. The real world has to be dealt with: you have to eat, buy
clothes, have fun and enjoy life. But making a commitment to what
you want is essential. Those who have a supportive partner are
certainly at an advantage. My wife never questioned my commitment of
time and emotion or the dedication of funds to the studio. I was very
fortunate. For every one it’s a matter of choosing priorities.
Sometimes you may even have to tend a little bar.