Studio PMC - Rio Grande

As I PMC It
Suzanne and Jonah prepare to ride off into the
sunset, heading towards their next adventure.
As long as there have been human
beings, we have reached for paintbrush
and clay to share our experiences of
the divine, with amazing and often powerful
results. Even those who are not particularly
religious can hardly help but be moved
by Michelangelo's Pieta and Da Vinci's Last
Supper, intrigued by the intricate patterns
of Islamic art, or struck by the serene countenance
of an ancient Buddhist statue.
So it probably isn't surprising that over
the years, I've talked to many jewelry
artists who have spoken about their faith
and spirituality as essential sources of inspiration
in their work. Some have been active
in organized religion, others practice more
individual forms of spirituality, but all
think of their work as speaking to the spirit,
inviting the viewer into contemplation
of something greater than themselves.
This is the final issue of Studio PMC, and
with its cessation is the end of my involvement
in the world of PMC. The theme of
this issue was planned long before the decision
was made to change the Guild's publications,
but I could not have chosen a more
appropriate one for my farewell issue. In
September, I will become a full-time student
at Episcopal Divinity School in
Cambridge, Massachusetts, with the anticipation
of being ordained an Episcopal
priest in four or five years. So this issue represents
the convergence of two things I
truly love: writing about jewelry and jewelry
makers, and exploring issues of faith
and spirituality.
It strikes me as odd that in a culture as
saturated with religious symbolism and language
as ours, faith is one of the last great
taboos for casual conversation. So I eagerly
took this opportunity to invite artists to talk
about the intersection of art and spirituality
in their lives.
The artists featured here are not a group
of religious extremists. Few even create
overtly religious jewelry. But all tap their
own sources of spirituality for inspiration
and use their work in PMC as a means of
translating the spiritual truths they have
found for the world.
In some cases, that spirituality was very
different from my own, while in others, we
might have been members of the same congregation.
But whatever our differences, I
found we all shared a desire to offer something
that has been deeply important in
our own lives to others, as a gift.
That spirit of sharing is what I have
loved most about working in the PMC
community. From the best way to rehydrate
PMC to questions about the meaning
of life and faith and art, every time I have
asked, this community has answered.
But the sharing goes well beyond the
exchange of information. Over the years,
many artists have told me about their
efforts to use their talents and the unique
qualities of PMC to reach out to others.
Artists have written to me about their
experiences working with the developmentally
delayed, the disabled, and the
seriously ill. They have talked about using
PMC to reach out to those who have struggled
to find a means to express themselves,
particularly in the wake of grief and loss.
One of the artists profiled in this issue,
Robin Whittemore, exemplified this spirit
— not only in her own work, but in the
way the PMC community rallied around
her. Robin died in July, finally succumbing
to the bone marrow disease she had fought
for four years.
Throughout her illness, Robin used her
art to reach out to others. “This experience
has been so rewarding,” she told me when
I interviewed her two months before her
death. “Not having this disease, but the
purpose it has given me. I have been told
that my attitude has helped to inspire others,
and it just seems if I can be an inspiration
to others and help bring them some
sense of peace in their troubles, give them
hope, not to give up… that's important.”
When she was well enough, she made
PMC bracelets inscribed with messages of
hope, and led bone marrow drives to
locate donors. Those drives never resulted
by Suzanne Wade
in a perfect match for her, but she rejoiced
in the others who were helped by the identification
of new potential donors.
And in reaching out, she also invited others
to reach back to her. When she shared
her struggle with her friends on a Yahoo
metal clay board, the online community
sprang into action. Although most had
never met her in person, several donated
pieces for an eBay auction that raised nearly
$2,000 to help cover Robin's mounting
medical bills. And they kept in touch with
her, sending cards and messages of encouragement
when she needed to undergo additional
treatment and sharing in her and her
family's joy and grief as they weathered the
ups and downs of the disease.
In my faith tradition, there is no greater
act than caring for one another. St. Paul
writes in his letter to the Galatians, “Bear
one another's burdens, and thereby fulfill
the law of Christ.” Powerful calls for compassion
are found in Jewish, Islamic, and
Buddhist teaching, among others. Love and
compassion for others should be the defining
characteristic of people of faith,
although sometimes we seem to forget that.
I have been blessed indeed to have been
part of a metal clay community that lives
out that spirit of caring, even though its
members profess different creeds or no
creeds at all. That unity in spirit is a great
gift, and the hope it offers is something I
will carry with me on my new road. I
thank you all for sharing it with me.
I hope you will be equally blessed by
Robin's story and those of the other artists
in this issue. May you find in these pages
inspiration and encouragement to explore
your life's deepest mysteries and greatest
joys in your own work, whatever your path.
In closing and farewell, I would like to
offer you all this blessing from the Hebrew
scriptures:
May the Lord bless you and keep you,
May the Lord make his face to shine upon you
and be gracious unto you.
May the Lord lift up his countenance upon you
and give you peace.
Suzanne
Fall 2007 · 5