MY NAME IS LARISSA.

...welcome to my head...

INTRODUCTION

From August 2006 to January 2008 I served on the board of the Metal Arts Guild of San Francisco as editor of the guild's newsletter (aka the Guildletter). I am pleased to have had the opportunity to serve the metals community in this capacity. On this page you will find the articles I wrote for the Guildletter.  Feel free to shoot me a comment or suggestion.

Letter From The Editor

published in Volume 24 Issue 6: Dec07/Jan08

Dear MAG Members,

Since being elected I have enjoyed serving our community as MAG Guildletter editor. I have met tons of dynamic and talented folks working in the field, had the satisfaction of being part of something larger than myself, learned more about my craft, learned more about running not-for-profit arts organizations, honed my writing skills, made new friends, learned more about organizing and publishing periodicals, and ultimately learned a lot about myself. (All without having to pay tuition!)

When I began volunteering with MAG over three years ago, my goals were to meet other metalsmiths and to find new ways to get my work out there. Both of those goals were quickly met and I found myself still wanting more out of the experience. When the position of Guildletter editor became vacant I jumped at the opportunity.

When I took over editorship from now MAG president, Alison Antelman, I had the challenge of taking an already strong publication and, at least, maintaining its integrity, but hopefully making it even better. In instituting the themes for each issue I aimed to make the Guildletter  more cohesive. My approach was holistic, in that I was thinking of the Guildletter first in terms of the whole and then in terms of the individual parts, much as I approach designing my metal-work. I also wanted to engage more of the membership in participation and did this by soliciting articles from the great talent pool that is our guild. I hope that this has come across to you, the reader, and that you have enjoyed my handiwork.

As all things must, my time as editor has come to an end. Working with MAG, specifically on the Guildletter, has helped me to make new decisions about the direction of my career and life in general. So, this is my last issue before I pass it on to new editor, Cyndee Clearwater. I have every confidence that Cyndee is a great fit for the job and will continue to maintain the integrity of and improve upon the Guildletter.

My most sincere thanks goes to the MAG Board for all that I have learned from them, and to the MAG membership at large for your participation and many words of support. I encourage each of you to consider becoming more involved in MAG. There are tons of opportunities to help out even if you are not able to make a long-term commitment. Committees are always looking for extra hands and minds. Plus, it’s fun, helps build your professional skills and is a great way to connect with others in the field. I promise you won’t regret the experience.
 
One last thing...don’t forget to renew your membership. My check is in the mail today!

Yours editorially,

Larissa Dahroug

School's In. Enjoy the Ride.

published in Volume 24 Issue 5: Oct/Nov 07

Summer has given way to crisp mornings, fallen acorns and apple cider. Fall has arrived, and with it has come the beginning of school. Teachers and students alike are adjusting to the familiar, if grueling schedule.

This editor has recently started taking classes again herself. After some soul searching, and a summer that seemed to fly by like a tornado, I have decided it is time again to add to my bag of tricks. Though I am not currently taking a metals class, or even any art classes for that matter, I know that the new knowledge and experiences I am gaining will enrich my future work.

I am already facing challenges. When working on my BFA I was enrolled in a very small art school. Classes rarely had over 10 students in them and most were conducted in informal settings, all the desks in a circle, when there were desks at all. More often than not, out of necessity, class was held in a shop with multiple workstations. After the initial demo and explanation we were off to our stations to create, free to talk among ourselves about our work or whatever, taking short breaks as needed for the restroom, sustenance and cancer sticks...NOT THE CASE NOW. (Thank goodness I quit smoking six years ago!)

Taking lecture-style classes in a more traditional setting is proving very difficult for me. Staring at the back of the head of the student in front of me and knowing that someone is staring at the back of mine is a scary throwback to a time when I had to raise my hand and ask to use the restroom. In fact, in one of my classes I’ve been told I can not leave to use the restroom so don’t even bother asking. What!? I’m an adult. If I need to use the restroom I will use the restroom.
 
As artists we are always training ourselves to be independent and think critically. We constantly test the boundaries of ourselves, others, the materials we use, and the ideas we fabricate into finished work. However, we are still members of our individual communities, society and ultimately the world and occasionally have to be reminded of this. I have been off to drift by myself for quite some time now, exploring my thoughts and experiencing my world through my art. I think sometimes the best way to learn is to put myself in a totally new situation. Taking traditionally structured classes is teaching me about conformity and control, things I am used to rejecting fervently. Though I am  uncomfortable in the moment, I hope that my experience will give me a fresh perspective on my art and direction of my career. No matter what, it’s going to be a wild ride.

Making the Family Jewels

published in Volume 24 Issue 3: Jun/Jul 07

Recently I have been working on a big project for a very difficult ‘client’...my family. Just after the ‘06 holiday season my youngest sister got engaged. Ever since, my whole family has been a-buzz with the preparations. As with many people in our [crafts] line of work, I come from a long tradition of craftspeople, musicians and fine-artists; our specialties varied but complimentary. So, each of our ‘gifts’ needs to be represented in this family affair...at least according to my mother.
Designing and making custom work for anyone can be trying. Since the market is flooded with mass-produced bling fit for every Hallmark-holiday and priced for any budget, the client seeking out custom, one-of-a-kind, hand-fabricated jewelry is a rare and generally picky breed. In addition, the custom client’s motivation to purchase a one-of-a-kind piece is usually some highly charged emotional event such as a wedding. Situations such as weddings and anniversaries add another complex layer to the design and fabrication process. When that emotionally charged client happens to be family the gloves can soon be off and no punches will be pulled if you aren’t careful.
I love my family and am happy to share my skills and talents with them. Usually I do this by making birthday and holiday gifts as opposed to buying them in a store. When a gift is made and given out of the maker’s own volition, the sentiment and motivation is markedly different than when the maker has been specifically asked to make a gift.
Another issue that is often at play in these types of transactions is a preconception held by many non-makers; that since we [makers] love what we do it is not ‘work’ and that our love for what we do is, or should be, compensation enough. I had always suspected this was the case, but it was sadly confirmed for me a few years ago when I was working for a not-to-be-mentioned-by-name South Bay municipality as an Arts Recreation Coordinator. In this position I was responsible for overseeing arts classes for youth and adults at the local community center as well as helping in the planning and facilitation of publicly commissioned art works for and by the community. At the time I was helping to put together a large scale quilt workshop project for the Senior Center. The workshops would be lead by a well respected local quilt artist. Over a series of day-long workshops more than 50 local seniors would create a giant quilt that when finished would be displayed on the walls of the brand new Senior Center facility. It’s a long story, but we were at the point where the project had been approved and an artist had been chosen by the Arts Staff to lead the workshop. Now all we had to do was present the artist to the Arts Commission for final approval. The amount the artist was to be paid had been previously approved by the Recreation Superintendent and budgeted at a mere $10,000. When the Arts Commission heard what the artist was to be paid they recoiled with one commissioner saying, “But she’s an artist! She’s doing something she loves! Why do we have to pay her at all?” (To grasp the full absurdity of this statement keep in mind that this project would run over a number of months and all supplies were to come out of the $10,000.) This was a commonly held belief among the municipality’s staff as well. I no longer work for this municipality.
They say that it is a great compliment to be told that you make something ‘look so easy.’ But the idea that something is easy seems to connote that it is of little value; just as the word ‘work’ seems to imply an unpleasant activity. So if you love what you do and make it look so easy there must be absolutely no value in your endeavors...right? Well, you and I know that this is not truth. All of these misconceptions are things you must take into consideration when being asked to take on a family project like the one I’ve been working on.
So far it has been requested of me to make, as a gift, and I have completed, matching necklace and earring sets for my sister’s nine (yup, that is no type-o...9!) bridesmaids as well as a necklace, earring and bracelet set for my sister. Additionally I have been asked to make a head piece for my sister. Like me, Mary has very short hair, so making a headpiece that will stay on her head is tricky and I have run into a number of design and fabrication obstacles including waning motivation. When I agreed to take on this project I did not consider everything that I should have and now I find myself feeling overwhelmed, under pressure to please and worst of all, under appreciated. I must stress however that this is no one’s fault save my own and I know that on my sister’s special day I will be both happy about and proud of my contribution.
So, how can you avoid the mess I find myself in? Before committing to a family project ask yourself the following questions:
  • Is this project something I want to do or would I be doing it out of a false sense of obligation?
  • Will the finished project be appreciated and treasured?
  • Do I have the adequate time, facilities and skills to complete this project?
  • If I say yes to this project will I feel pressured to say yes to future projects?
  • Does the person asking me to take on this project hold any of the before mentioned misconceptions about the work I do?
  • Can I live with the answers to all of these questions and complete the project without compromising my personal values and ethics? Example: Because I personally find the diamond trade vulgar and gratuitous I do not work with diamonds, ever, and declined the request for me to make wedding bands for my sister and her fiancé even though they wanted to pay me for making them.
If you are comfortable with the answers to these questions and agree to take on a family project I also recommend you do the following:
  • Set boundaries for yourself and be sure that you know exactly what is being asked of you.
  • Set a strict budget and time line for the project and be sure that the requesting family member is aware of this. Doing so will avoid misunderstandings and unfulfilled expectations down the line.
  • Make sure no means no and yes means yes. Do not allow yourself to be compromised by the piggyback effect. An example of the piggyback effect would be if the requesting family member made the following statement: Since you are already doing this project it would be great if you did such-and-such too.
  • Do the project with joy. It will read in the finished piece and make it that much more special.
  • And finally, if the family member is paying you for anything other than the supplies you need, it is no longer a gift and should be treated as such. Be careful accepting money from family in this type of situation. Often family members feel a greater sense of entitlement than a random client and are more willing to spend your time for you. Be sure that you both know exactly where the other stands.
All warnings aside, creating work that will become a family heirloom is a rich and rewarding experience. Your story will travel through future generations along with the finished piece. It is very gratifying and empowering to write your family history in this way...by making the family jewels.

Steel Town Revelation

published in Volume 23 Issue 5: Oct/Nov 06

Recently I traveled to Pittsburgh, PA, my home town, for a long overdue trip to visit my aunts, uncles, cousins and aging grandparents. On the plane ride there I sat next to a young man who was a California South Bay native attending Carnegie Mellon University in downtown Pittsburgh. He was returning to school for his junior year studying mechanical engineering. Interestingly enough, he pointed out a very poignant fact to me about my roots and how they relate to my profession that had never even occurred to me.
We were exchanging pleasantries: Do you live in Pittsburgh? Where are you from? What do you do? When I told him I am originally from Pittsburgh and am a metalsmith he replied, “Wow, so that’s really in your blood.” For a second I didn’t know what he was talking about. Then it hit me and I smiled saying, “Yes, I guess it really is.” You see, while the official Pittsburgh claim to fame is ‘The City of Bridges’, it is known to all Pittsburgh natives as ‘Steel Town’.
In the early 1800’s Pittsburgh was a very significant supplier of tin, brass, iron and coal for the US. Smelting techniques were refined and streamlined and starting in the early 1900’s Pittsburgh was producing up to half of the steel manufactured in the US. During WWII alone it produced 95 million tons. Most of the people working in the steel mills and closely related coal mines were of Slavic decent. At that time the Slavs were the newest group of immigrants flowing into the region. Most people referred to them as the Mill-Hunks; ‘Mill’ referring to working in the steel mills and ‘Hunks’ referring to originating from Hungary, though most of them came from Serbia, Croatia and Poland. The slang/slur was shortened to Hunkies and is still used endearingly by people of Slavic decent living in the area. My maiden name is Funyak (pronounced Foon-yalk). Yes, I come from a family of Hunkies.
Many of my relatives worked either in the coal mines or in the steel mills. It was arduous work that required attention to detail and a strong work ethic. In addition to working in the mines and mills many of my relatives were craftsmen on the side. My Roosia, my grandmother on my father’s side, often tells stories about the intricate inlaid wood boxes and spoons her father created in what spare time he had. My own father continued the tradition . When I was a little girl he went to college at night and during the day worked for the Union Railroad painting Pittsburgh’s many bridges and laying track and ties, all made from Steel Town steel. In what spare time he had he was, and still is, a master woodworker. I have many treasured items in my home that he has made through the years. Even the house I was born in is located in an old mine and mill town built in the late 1800’s/early 1900’s.
While back for my visit I travelled over PA 76, aka the Pennsylvania Turnpike, one of the oldest paved roads and the first toll road in the US, to get to the homes of my  relatives (so they could stuff me with homemade peirogi and halupki). As I cut through the soft rolling tree covered mountains, I was romanced by the sleepy little towns that once were bustling with steel and coal commerce. The quaint brick turn-of-the-century buildings now boasted signs that said “Best Antiques This Side of the Allegheny,”  “Fresh Sweet Corn” and “Comfy Bed & Breakfast: Steeler Fans Welcome!” Sometimes in the background I could see a looming dark structure, a steel mill, boarded up and fenced off, or a large strip of land black and terraced with a spattering of rusting old cars dumped long after the strip mine had been closed. This is where I come from. This will always feel like home.
When I was older we moved from Pennsylvania to the Detroit, Michigan Area. I ended up going to college  in Detroit at the Center for Creative Studies, now known as the College for Creative Studies. Though Detroit is not a giant producer of raw metals it has been a giant in the automotive industry, hence the nickname ‘Motor City’. Materials, manufacturing, tools and process have surrounded me my whole life and as I look at my work I can see and feel their pulse running through it and me.
Now living in the Bay Area I often come in contact with tech types. When they ask what I do and I tell them, the next question is usually something like, “How’d you get into that?” I have always said something about trying it out in a high school art class and falling in love with the torch...which is true. But upon reflection I see that it is something much deeper and richer than that.
That kid on the plane was only making small talk to pass the time, but in that one small conversation I found a new appreciation for my craft. I feel that I now have a better understanding of my work and the constant evolution that it is going through...that I am going through. Maybe this new revelation will help push my work to the next level. I don’t think I will ever look at a hammer the same way again. I’ve always loved my hammers, but now I can acknowledge them for what they really are...a part of me. 
-Larissa Dahroug

Environment for Inspiration

published in Volume 23 Issue 4: Aug/Sept 06

As artists and craftspeople we are always on the look out for inspiration for new work. We cut pictures out of magazines, scribble random thoughts and doodles feverishly in sketchbooks, pick up bits of schmootz off the ground; pretty much collect and categorize any little bit of whatever  catches our eye to create our next opus. Pablo Picasso said, “The artist is a receptacle for emotions that come from all over the place: from the sky, from the earth, from a scrap of paper, from a passing shape, from a spider's web.” I have a friend who is a mixed media gal who takes this collecting to an extreme. Finding a place to sit down at her house is definitely a challenge, which brings me to my point: In our search for inspiration, our environment is easily overlooked; not specifically meaning nature, but our day to day living conditions, our space.

Since last September I had been struggling with creative block. By the middle of March I still didn’t have one new concept model, not even one good sketch of a new piece. I was starting to get a little panicked. I had gone a few months before with no practice models but I always had some solid sketches. Almost seven whole months with nothing was wearing on me. Even the thought of going to the studio was starting to feel pretty scary. Then one morning my husband said to me, “Let’s go away for the weekend.” For us that means a stay at our favorite B&B, The Inn at Occidental, up in wine country. (Heck yeah!) I said “I’m already packed!”

As we were getting closer to our destination and the landscape changed from chain stores, strip malls and tech company logos to vineyards, beaches and redwoods, I felt a marked change in myself as well. I wasn’t clenching my teeth. My shoulders were relaxed and not up around my ears. I had one thought at a time on my mind instead of the normal torrent of sound bites and reminders. Some might say it was the anticipation of a vacation that was behind this relaxation. That was my first thought. However, I have since changed my mind. Other than getting a massage, which I occasionally do when I’m not on vacation anyway, we spent the weekend doing the ordinary things that we regularly do at home. We did some reading. I went to the grocery store. We played cards and did yoga. Then it happened...I picked up my sketchbook and started to draw! When we got home Sunday afternoon I had some good solid sketches and notes. In a couple weeks time I had two new pieces made. Yes! Inspiration! But it was fleeting. Soon I was back to feeling unmotivated and stuck.

Where had it gone? I sat and thought about what had happened. Then it hit me. I am not comfortable in my environment. I feel rushed, out of place and over stimulated all the time. I need to be in a greener space to feel inspired to create. This got my husband and I talking and since we have been able to work things out we have decided to move to the Sonoma area. Even the prospect of the move has inspired me to start designing and fabricating new work.

Let me be clear, I am not saying that I think everyone needs to or should move out to the sticks and live in log cabins. Some people are inspired by more urban surroundings. Take your environment into consideration.  Try having an internal dialogue. Do I like the location of my studio? of my house? Do I like the sounds  I hear when I wake up in the morning? in the middle of the night? while I’m working? Do I feel healthy most days? Do I look forward to interacting in my community daily? Are my personal values reflected in my day to day living? How does that make me feel? The bottom line is, we are usually best at our craft when we are happy and healthy. If living in the city among the hustle and bustle fosters happiness and good health for you, and that’s where you live, then you are very smart to be there. Me, well, I need the smell of the trees and the quiet.

Moving is an ordeal and isn’t a practical option for everyone. In that case try making the most of what is available to you. Set up your studio in a way that is efficient and pleasing. If you like living and working in a tidy space take the time to clean and organize. If you like being around green things then put some cut flowers or a potted plant in your line of sight. My mixed media friend is surrounded by lots of things that she has collected for inspiration. But, since her space is so cluttered and disorganized she’s rarely able to finish anything that she starts or even have the time to make anything at all. She is overwhelmed by her surroundings.

Next time you experience creative block ask yourself if it is your environment that is holding you back. You may be surprised at the answer. All this being said it is also good to keep in mind a quote from German composer, Johannes Brahms, “Without craftsmanship, inspiration is a mere reed shaken in the wind.”
-Larissa Dahroug