02 September 2017

Broken and Infinite


This was us.


If you know me at all, either via social media or in person, you've seen this picture before.
This was the best night of my life.
This was the night I married David with five of my favorite women standing by me.
Weren't we something?
We were infinite.

Six of us.
Two years ago.

Six of us.
And two years later,
there are four of us left.


That's me, in the center.  Literally held together by the virtual fibers of these women.
On your far left is Audra.  She lives down the street from me in this small town, is cousins with my husband, is the kind of woman and mom that makes you want to be better.  To her left is Dori.  I met Dori at my son's fifth birthday party.  One of the most genuine people I've ever known, she showed up in a baseball hat and I thought she was the most beautiful understated thing I'd ever seen.  Then she made me laugh, and I was hooked.  Between me and Dori is Kelly.  Kelly has been by my side since the eighth grade, though we hated each other back then.  Years later, in high school, she knocked me out cold, but that's a story for another post.  That girl keeps my sanity and my faith in her back pocket, and pulls them out to remind me of who I am when I need it the most.  On my other side are UmberDove and SunnyRising.  I met them as many of us meet in this new age world, online through the blogosphere.  Fellow artists, these two understood a part of me that perhaps very few of my local friends do.  They have always been quick to make me laugh at the indignities and unknowns of the artistic life, fast with reassurance, endlessly inspiring.  The friendship was still relatively youthful when this photo was taken, but deep as hell and just as pulling.

Such a crew!
We.  Were.  Infinite.

You would never know looking at this, that one of us just came from a chemo treatment, grinning beneath a carefully styled wig.  Another is dazzling in all of her Stage 4 glory.  Yet another would begin to battle potential blindness in the not too distant future, and still another would be diagnosed with an auto-immune disorder that would leave bloody lesions on her legs and in her kidneys.  Two years.  Two.

About fourteen months after that night, Dori lost her fight with breast cancer.
Roughly six months later, Umber lost hers.


* * * * *

I share this to let you know where my mind and heart have been since taking my sabbatical last year.
One thing I've learned since my wedding is that so much of who we are is defined in death.
If only we could remember this while living.

It's been an interesting span of time.  One where I have felt a survivor's guilt, a guilt for not having been more present when presence was an option, a guilt for the days when I lived my life in a lazy way.  Even a guilt for allowing myself to be driven by stress (and what did I even know about stress) and dollars and external expectations.  I've discovered since then that, for me, time is such a tease, and I went through a spell where I felt, "hell... perhaps we are not infinite at all?"  And yet, in the end, in the way we hold each other together, the way we carry each other far into an abyss of sky we may never ourselves live to see again?  The way we are linked, the way we pull each other forward, bring each other home..?  Ah.  Perhaps we are more infinite than I ever thought.  Because of sisterhood.  As women, as mere mortals, so frustratingly fragile, so frustratingly HUMAN... we are infinitely broken.  And infinitely beautiful.  That is what this series of work is all about.


I hope you enjoy it.
And thank you, for welcoming me back into the fold.



Broken Necklace No. 1
Sterling Silver, Fine Silver, Kingman Turquoise, Leather


















Broken Necklace No. 2
Sterling Silver, Fine Silver, Leather



















Infinite Necklace No. 1
Sterling Silver, Fine Silver, Hubei Mine Turquoise













Infinite Necklace No. 2
Sterling Silver, Fine Silver, Nevada Turquoise
** stones come from an old estate piece- the specific mine is unknown **











Infinite Necklace No. 3
Sterling Silver, Fine Silver, Kingman Turquoise










Infinite Earrings
Sterling Silver










On www.rosyrevolver.com at 9pm EST.













20 comments:

  1. You blow me away with your insights and your jewelry is astoundingly gorgeous!

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    1. Thank you so much, Dia- those are words I will never take for granted.

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  2. as always, you are elegant with your words and thoughts. The horror of losing two close friends in 2 years is unimaginable, but you are handing it with grace, and allowing yourself the time to process and grieve and then live...that is the true way to honor your friends. I am glad I know you

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    1. You know... for two artists who live so close, we have got to find time to see each other more. We always end up across the country before we can hug. Let's try to change that... meanwhile, thank you for being here, for always having been here, and for your words. I'm so glad I know YOU.

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  3. Love you Jess, can't wait to see you in Feb.....

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    1. Love YOU, Leslie. Yes! Tucson bound and beyond excited. <3

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  4. I was introduced to your work by a dear friend of mine. I just recently bought her a geode from you for her birthday. We met through a master bead weaving class and have been friends for 8 years. She works with metal...I crossed over to the dark side last year attending a Tracy Stanley class. Great style to get started with. Your story touched my heart more than you could know. I lost my Dad to an incurable brain disease 10 years ago. It hits 1 in a million people. My Dad was a brilliant artist. He was the first person to be awarded a full scholarship to Parsons School of Design in NYC. My life will never be the same without him. My Mother, who was a fashion designer, is not really living since his death. Painful as it is to watch...this is the path that she has chosen without him. Death teaches us a different walk through life when we love so deeply. I am thankful that you took some time to grieve and I am glad that you are creating your gorgeous jewelry again. You are amazing!

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    1. Thank you so much for sharing this with me, Jamie. I'm incredibly close to my parents and already dread the day that I'll have to say goodbye, either physically or mentally, and knowing it may well be the latter being that dementia runs in my family. I'm so sorry for what you've been through, and so glad you found an artistic outlet that brings you joy. I've never been in a class with Tracy but have heard such wonderful things! Thank you beyond measure for being here, for taking the time to read and expose bits of yourself. I imagine your parents were (are) amazing souls. Huge hugs to you, always.

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  5. Fragile,broken,flawed and infinite, yes,infinite in our legacy and the energy that guided our lives and will remain long after we are gone. We each create ripples in time, in lives, in hearts and the very spirits of those that linger long enough to allow it to resonate within. You. Inspire. Me. And make me want to be more, do more, share more. Thank you.

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    1. I think you are one magical soul, Catherine. Thank you for being here and for taking the time to leave a note... You inspire me back with you beautiful work and heart.

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  6. I love you and your creativity! I have witnessed the passion for family and friends as well as love for them. Your jewelry shows this inner strength. So grateful to have you in our lives��������. Dori loves you still��

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    1. Dearest Peggy, I knew it was you. Huge hugs, always. And always.

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  7. Your words....are spot on! Thank you for sharing something as personal as loss to us.

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    1. Thank you for taking the time to read something so personal... I know that so frequently, "personal" isn't the interesting thing to share... it means so much that you took the time to read and leave a comment. Hugs to you and much gratitude.

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  8. Glad you are back!! Beautiful work always!

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  9. I love you and give thanks for you. You teach the most beautiful lessons in the most beautiful ways.

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  10. Your words touched my heart
    Thank you

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  11. I think you hit it precisely with the words, "infinitely broken. Infinitely beautiful." I believe that is our core-life-lesson, the Christ-within-us, Immanuel. Thank you for being a Co-creator with our Lord, and for your gift to express the depth of your empathy and compassion for the rough edges we all possess, having been broken again and again and again -- life itself.

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