I sure am enjoying this thread! Thanks to all for sharing! So many
different paths, so many different experiences. Just like the
jewelry we all create.
Who taught me? A whole lot of people, in fact I’m still learning and
I hope I never stop. I started in a tent with my Dad in 1972 on the
Bunny Slope at Loon Mountain, NH (in the summer of course) banging 4
gauge square silver wire into jewelry. Dad was old school and didn’t
believe in rolling mills or any of that (draw plates were barely OK),
so everything started out as 4 gauge square or as an ingot cast from
scrap and then forged and filed to shape. Sheet, shanks, bezel wire,
square wire, tubing, everything. That was my job, make mill products
for Dad without using a mill (I guess I was cheaper than a mill and
he never bothered to tell me that there was such a thing). That was
when I learned how to forge sheet and square wire with a steel block
and a couple of different hammers. Those are probably the two most
important skills I have ever learned, as so much comes from those
two basic skills. It is still amazing to me that it is possible to
make 24 gauge sheet or 18 gauge square wire that is almost
indistinguishable from milled (in some cases, even better) with
nothing more than a good block and a couple of decent hammers. But to
this day, I still can’t forge thin gauge dead square wire with no
twist like Dad could. He’d say that’s because I cheat with a rolling
mill too much and traded the skill for speed. He’d be right, of
course.
I had an incredible opportunity to learn as an apprentice from a
true world class master of enameling back then, but I was young and
stupid, and didn’t realize what I was blowing off. He made me promise
that whatever I learned I must pass on, that keeping secrets of our
art and trade is a sin against our fellow man. I didn’t realize that
he was telling me that he was going to pass on a lifetime of his
learning to me if I wanted to learn it, with the only price, a
promise to pass it on to others. And I sure didn’t want to work that
hard with a crotchety, hard to understand old college professor with
a thick accent telling me what to do all the time. Cruising and
skiing were way more fun, and paid almost as much. Biggest mistake of
my life. It’s because of that promise and missed opportunity that I
participate in Orchid. At least I can say I learned one thing from a
real once-in-a-generation master artist and craftsman (a very fine
gentleman named Karl Drerup for those wondering).
Be very careful when dismissing cranky old men and women, you have
no idea what those old eyes may have seen, where those slow moving
old feet may have walked and what those gnarly old hands may have
wrought. My greatest lesson of the 70’s, officially passed on.
Other than gemological training, the only formal jewelry training I
have is a three day seminar I took in 1984 when I came back to the
business after a few years in college (with a few basic courses in
art) and the Army. Can’t say I learned a lot during those three days,
I already knew how to light a torch. Everything else I learned by
hanging out with the best goldsmiths I could find, both friends and
co-workers. I also learned some very valuable lessons from my own
apprentices. It IS possible to learn from those with less experience
and skill than we have. You just have to keep an open mind, and
always remember that no matter how long you’ve been doing this, you
don’t know it all. In other words, always check your ego at the door
if you want to learn anything new.
I moved 1200 miles and took a major cut in pay so that I could work
at a top-notch retail custom design studio that had some of the most
talented goldsmiths in America. I learned an awful lot there, not so
much about how to do things, but more about what it really is
possible to do and what high standards of design and craftsmanship
really are. I thought I had both of those pretty much figured out,
but I was like a babe in the woods when I saw really nice high-end
custom work being created day after day and started creating it
myself. The best teachers in the world are the people that work at
the benches right next to you when you all demand only the highest
standards from each other and are willing to help each other achieve
them.
Leonid made a post on a concurrent thread stating basically (I’m
paraphrasing here, and I hope I get it right) that it is not
possible to teach goldsmithing, it is really only possible to provide
an atmosphere in which learning can take place. I agree
wholeheartedly with that sentiment. It’s a lot like learning to drive
or learning to fly, you can ride as much as you want, but that won’t
help a lick when you finally sit at the controls. The only way to
learn how to land a plane is to land a plane, many, many times. Same
with goldsmithing. It’s just a little harder to kill yourself sitting
at a bench (and no, it doesn’t mean that any setting job you can walk
away from is a good one).
Dave Phelps