Neville in Nelson

One of the most wonderful benefits of attending the collaboration in Whangarei is the professional and personal connections I made that I know will last a lifetime. I got travel companions for various parts of my post-collab trip around the country, and the warm hospitality of many of the collab participants. I've already written about Hans and Lillian, whose gorgeous sustainable estate provided much-needed decompression time directly post-collab. Now I will share a bit about another new friend who - along with his gorgeous family - opened their home to me and my fellow traveler as I arrived on the South Island.

Neville Parker is an artist whose energy cannot easily be contained - and I mean this in the best possible way. His smile and playfulness in the studio are infectious, and had a huge impact on my experience (and that of any others with whom I spoke) at the collab. It's always fun to see people you meet at these events in their "native habitat" afterwards, especially with their partners and/or other loved ones. Turns out Neville is one of those intensely present and genuine people whose persona does not alter based on his surroundings. He and his wife of more than 25 years, Suzanne, along with their 9-year-old daughter, Emma, dog (Fergus - named after another of the collab artists) and cat (Eddie) have the most wonderful dynamic to observe, and we got to be honored participants for two days.

Neville is currently channeling his significant energy into transforming their land in Upper Moutere (near Nelson) into a sculpture park and art center, with the potential for gallery space, residencies, small collaborative events and more.
The land also bears lush fruit and nut trees, the abundance from which has sustained us for days after leaving (thanks, Neville!).

His own work is fantastically creative. You can see the most monumental piece I have seen of his to date (5.4m high!) entitled Velvet Stampede here. Below is a photo of a smaller piece he worked on at the collab (Neville fabricated the fish from flat sheet steel).

Neville is also quite active as an artist sharing his passion for making in his local community. You can read a little about one of his projects - and see a great photo of him and Emma - here.

I feel very fortunate to have been able to get to know Neville and his family, and look forward to seeing his many dreams for his site come to fruition.

Speaking in (Other) Voices

I am writing this from a hostel in Punakaiki, which is on the West Coast of the South Island of New Zealand. And I have lost my voice for the second time during this trip! Not being able to speak puts a real damper on traveling, not to mention collaboration! The first time during this trip that this happened was on the "open day" of the collab (Wednesday, March 23). On this day, the public is invited to the site (at their own risk!) to observe the artists in action. Hundreds of people trickled about the site throughout the day, asking questions and looking on...and I couldn't speak. After signing apologetically at people (and having them speak back at me more loudly, which was a bizarre but consistent reaction to my muteness), I finally made a sign to wear (see photo below of me and best bud Steve Haywood, who is wearing his own sign...). To my surprise, I received a hefty share of compliments from my fellow artists for coming up with the best "strategy" for keeping my head down on Open Day.

But of course this was not intentional, and the more time I spend without my voice, the more I reflect on what it means to have one - literally and metaphorically. At this phase of my career as a maker, for example, I think I have developed my own voice in terms of aesthetic and technique. Though it is fluid, it is recognizable to those who know me. What happens to each artist's voice, though, when we collaborate? I believe that in the best possible scenario, all the voices blend harmoniously to form a single new one.

The most common question I get about my participation in collaborative events is, "How does it work?" Though the answer is really, "lots of ways," and it's far too complicated to explain in one entry, I will describe to you the process of making for one piece I worked on entitled "Infinity," pictured below (now in the collection of Lindsay Embree).

On the second day of the collab, Renate von Petersdorff, a ceramic artist from Blenheim (on the South Island), came by my bench and asked if I would like to play with one of her gorgeous raku porcelain "donut" pieces. I had not met Renate before, but was inspired immediately by the piece, so I said yes and added it to my growing pile. As I considered the gem, I was introduced to the work of Bruce Fergus, a sculptor who lives near Renate. Bruce works with a range of materials (and is also a talented musician), but what drew me to him was his love of written language systems and symbols. I asked him to choose a word and write it in Augum (?spell), an ancient language made up of hash marks made above, below or through a center line. He chose the word "Infinity," which you can see here beneath a mica washer on the lower disc on the finished pendant.

From there, it was up to me to put together the pieces using other materials we had on site (in this case, silver sheet which I milled and textured, mica that I brought from home and black rubber cord. I am happy to say that the piece sold to another collab artist at the auction.

Collaboration happens in many, many ways at these events (and it also fails to happen from time to time - more on that later), and all are gifts.

Belonging

Maori culture - language, art, music - is very much alive and interwoven throughout daily life in New Zealand. One of the first things I learned about Maori culture here (which has spread to become a Kiwi thing in general) is about how people identify themselves. New Zealand is very place-oriented, and having seen some of its breathtaking sites, I can see why. I am told that before someone even tells you their name, they will tell you their "mountain," i.e., the mountain they live below (or sometimes a river or other geographic landmark). I love this notion. What a lovely sense of belonging. It feels like I should carry a photo of Mt. Hood - or maybe Fuji-san - as my ancestor. Here is Mt. Manaia, in whose shadow the collab was held.

Another Maori custom I love is the traditional greeting - the hongi or "sharing of breath." It's hard to mistrust someone who greets you this way! I think we should all adopt this greeting.

I got to visit a breathtakingly-crafted marae on the Unitec campus in Auckland, with a personal tour of the wharenui (meeting house) by creator and fellow collab artist Lyonel Grant. What an incredible opportunity. Though photos of the inside of the wharenui are forbidden, here a couple of the outside to give you an idea. The intricacy of the carving is exquisite, but perhaps even more impressive is all the thought and symbolism behind it. Every line, image, material and its placement is carefully considered, and together portray a history of local Maori culture through the present day. I feel so fortunate to have had the chance to go on this guided tour led by such a talented artist, and am happy to be able to share the experience with you.

Collab Reflections - Installment 1

Believe it or not (I don't), the collaboration is already over and I've already had a week to process it. Internet access at the site was not available, with many technical issues spoiling my plan to blog daily during the event. In all honesty, I can't imagine having been able to meet that goal anyway - not only was I working at my bench from 6AM - 11PM, but I just didn't have enough perspective yet to be able to sort out the most crucial bits to share with you. Now that I've had some time, I will start posting installments as often as I can (internet access allowing).

I'll start at the very beginning. I arrived in Auckland at 5AM on April 19, the day the event began. After a 3-hour layover and several cups of coffee, I boarded a puddle-jumper to Whangarei Airport, which has all of one gate for arrivals and departures!


After some confusion about my ride to the collab site, I found my way to the beautiful Manaia campgrounds where the collaboration would be held. Some people had already arrived, and the rest were slowly trickling in.

The site is an Baptist camp site, with no facilities other than the usual kitchen, baths and dorms. The "studios" that were set up for this event were far better equipped than I had expected - especially the small metals area. I had my own jeweler's bench, which was nicer than the one I work on at home,
thanks to Steve Haywood, a Kiwi jeweler and my host as an international artist. You can see Steve's work here. The small metals area - and my work station - was situated at the main entrance of the dining/gathering hall, which I soon found was simultaneously the most public and loneliest place on the premises. It was always in the middle of the action though, and I was able to do some very discreet observing from behind my bench pin...

It turns out I was mistaken about the number of artists who were invited to this event - only about 75 were in attendance (not 100), and that was more than usual - making me even more humbled by my invitation. Many internationally-renowned artists were there. I won't mention any big names in this post, though, because one of the things that makes these events successful is when all artists leave their egos at the gate. This goes for established and emerging artists alike.

As an observer, the one thing that really struck me was the great arc of ego each individual seemed to be faced with throughout the course of the week. I'll speak from my own experience which, based on the feedback I got from others, was fairly typical. When I first arrived, my energy was really turned outward, trying to figure out who everyone was and what role they played. Next, I found myself searching for where I fit in/with whom I might fit. Through the process of collaborating with other artists, we all found our egos challenged. For me, it was a rollercoaster ride between feeling like my opinion MUST be right to wondering if they made a mistake by inviting me at all. The eventual total breakdown of self-assurance allowed me to put aside my ego and provided for an opening to the process of deep collaboration.

Not everyone experienced this as a positive, of course. I saw some participants who were very clearly broken by the process, and who could not wait to return to the comfortable solitude of their own studios. Some worked alone on pieces. Some complained loudly about the work that was done by other artists on "their piece." A friend of mine asked me how we might make sure that these people, who were "clearly a bad fit" for these events, did not get invited in the future. My answer was that the people playing these roles were just as integral to the whole dynamic as everyone else, and if we took them away, someone else would take on their roles. It's that special balance we're after.

Our Site

I arrived on site yesterday afternoon, just in time to share lunch with the nearly 50 artists who had already arrived. After almost 30 hours of traveling you'd think I'd be exhausted, but I found myself extremely energized. With a view like this, who wouldn't be?


The site is actually a Baptist camp site, with a few buildings and many tents set up for working and sleeping. The studio setup here - for jewelry as well as other media including steel, wood (turning & fabrication), glass (fusing, lampworking and neon!), printmaking, painting and ceramics - is very impressive. My bench is better equipped than most places I have taught! I feel very fortunate to have such gracious hosts to organize this whole event, and will have to introduce them to you here as the week progresses.

The schedule for the week actually includes only five days of making, followed by three more days of auction prep and cleanup. This doesn't leave much time to meet the other artists, plan something together and execute it, but that limitation is one of the best things about these events. You don't have time to think too much or take your successes or failures too seriously. It's a very fertile ground for learning, "happy accidents" and growth.

The people I have met so far are extraordinary. They are singularly warm, generous, talented and humble souls, all from various corners of the earth. I feel very blessed to be among them in this beautiful place.

Location:McDonald Rd,Whangarei Heads,New Zealand

Arrival

I'm writing this update from my cell phone, so it'll be short, but I wanted to let you all know I arrived in Auckland safely - one more flight and a bus ride left to go.

When I left PDX, this rainbow led the way to San Francisco.


Touching down in Auckland, I was greeted by smiling (?!) customs agents and this inspiring mural:


The sun is just starting to rise here, and on my walk between terminals, my lungs were hungrily filled with the briny smell of the sea (Auckland is flanked by water on it's East and West sides). Beautiful.

I love it here already! More soon.

Location:Andrew Mckee Ave,Auckland Airport,New Zealand

On My Way!

Well, I'm off! I wanted to send out one last post before I head to the airport this afternoon for the first of four legs in my journey to get to the site for CollaboratioNZ. If all goes smoothly, I will arrive at McGregor's Bay just in time for the fun to start - the collab begins the morning my flight lands in Whangarei. Better be sure to get some sleep on the plane so I can hit the ground running. I've always sort of enjoyed the quiet time afforded by plane travel...but 26 hours is a lot of quiet time! As my brother would say, please send good vibes.

As I mentioned, I'm not sure I'll have any way to send updates until after the first ten days of this trip (when the collab is over), since I'm not sure what my Internet access will be like on site, or how much time I will want to take away from making. Rest assured, though, that I will be soaking up lots of stories to share with you all as soon as I am able. Until then, great warm wishes to you, and thanks for joining me on this adventure!