Wright Auction

What inspires you to use such unique materials in the world of jewelry making? 

With jewelry, you have this strange material, tangible wealth issue to deal with. So many carats of that, so many carats of this. I think it's an odd approach. I can take a stone or a rough crystal, which I pay under $50 for, and I can turn it into something that I can sell for a lot of money. And also I like the challenge of working with things or doing things from the beginning. I used to set at least an hour, once a week, aside to do something to a material where the textbook said, “Don't do it,” just to see what would happen and things would happen. I always like that challenge because as I learn about the materials, they teach me things. 

For instance, there is a mineral called vivianite. I had never heard of it before until an old Chinese jeweler told me about it. He explained that it comes from South America. It grows mainly inside the bones of dinosaur fossils. I didn't believe him, but he showed me a big gem book. And I was like, “I'm going to get some.” He knew me, knew some of my work. He said, “Yeah, but you can't make jewelry with it. It's too fragile.” So the first thing I made is a piece of jewelry out of it. Vivianite is a pale green hue, but it's a very intriguing color.

What inspires you generally?

Everything is a life and therefore has to be treated with love and respect is all I really can say. Everything is a life. I mean, early Earth had maybe a hundred different kinds of minerals. A couple of million years later, there were twice as many. Rocks participated in evolution. Now, how is that possible? It's just a rock. Well, to participate in evolution, you must have some kind of consciousness. Something that says, “Stay away from the light. Go toward the light. Turn right.” Simple things like that. And even rocks were able to deal with it on a scale much, much slower than I would say, inspiration, art wise.

I had some inspiration as a child. I would visit my grandparents over the summer in the southwest of Germany. In the center city, I would wander downstairs at the art museum. I was like, “Oh, what's art?” So I go in the big vestibule and there was a big curving staircase up to the museum. But on the left was a small staircase that went down: which one should I take? It went down to an area where on the wall was a painting, maybe four feet by six feet. It showed the beach backed up by gigantic stone cliffs. The sea. There was a storm coming. Big waves were crashing. The sky was like melt lead. But on the beach stood a small human figure looking out to sea. You couldn't tell because of a cloak if it was a man or woman, but it was a human figure facing the storm. And looking at that, suddenly, as an eight year old, I felt cold. I was like, “Wait a minute. It's just paint on canvas. How can you do that to make me feel something.” So I pondered that. I went back a few days later. The same thing happened. I was like, “Wow!”

I see inspiration everywhere. I have this short thing where I say every human should own a coat with two pockets. In one pocket, a piece of paper that says, “You are nothing but dust and ashes.” And in the other one, a piece of paper that says, “This universe was made for you.” See, I own a microscope. I own a telescope. So anybody who says, “I don't have time to look at the real stuff.” It's their loss. Because reality as it is surprises me. Several times a day, I look and I find something where I just go, “Wow, beautiful!”

Emotions affect our DNA, too. We know that they have measured it. You're angry, you're frustrated: it will change the way your body works. So I would say most that my inspiration comes from an excess of health. When I'm sick, I don't really have my mojo. I will still go in my studio, I will clean up some tools, work this or that out, but I don't start anything. Otherwise, I have at least two or three projects going at the same time, focusing on one that I can bring to a certain stage of completion or finish, put it aside, and I start on the next one. So when I pick up a new piece, all my focus is back. It's like a light switch has been hit. And I like that kind of rhythm.

You were a diver when you were younger. How did that inform your view of nature?

I always loved water as a kid. There's one photo of me where I'm standing ankle deep in a river. I have a diver's mask on. I'm rubbing the river mud all over myself. When I enter the water, it feels like going back to the original state of Earth. Life definitely started in deep submarine trenches. Whereas, atrocious as the conditions were, at least they were stable. Even today, they find life forms on so-called “smokers” 8,000 feet deep in the Marianas Trench. By diving, I learned a lot about how to fix stuff, and I was always into that. It's a three-year basic apprenticeship system. You not only learn how to dive, but there are all sorts of different tools and equipment you have to use down there. I know how to weld underwater. I can do construction and demolition.

The company I apprenticed with, they were strong in film and photography underwater in the Mediterranean. We went to the Red Sea in Sudan for photo shoots. So that was a very big learning curve. And I learned how to do work with materials during that time. Big piece of wood, little piece of wood: it doesn't matter. In total darkness, weightless, you have to know what you're doing. I would reach over and pick a specific tool out of my work basket just by touch. I knew exactly where everything was. It kind of creates a weird capsule again—“time without time”—space in between spaces. But it was a magical experience. I did it for several years while I was in the States, too.

Finally, what are the names of your pets?

I have three cats and a fish. The three cats are all feral. One is the original orange, striped cat. His name is Basti, who was a goddess in Egypt, with a female body and a cat head on it. She was the goddess of love who had a whole city built for her. My cat Basti is just such a friendly, cuddly guy. Another cat is a big, fluffy one. A Persian called Mithra. In ancient times, the city gates of Persian big cities were held up by two rearing lions. They stood on their back legs, held up the horizontal lintel with their front paws. They look like lions. The third cat is a little stray who showed up in my backyard in poor shape a few years ago. I nursed her back to health gradually. She is very sleek, almost like an Abyssinian cat. Gray, dark markings. Very beautiful face mask. Her name is Shiva. Otherwise, I have a fish. I have a large tank with a cichlid. They also call them Oscars. The name of my fish is Oscar. Male cichlids have these very distinctive black and bright orange-gray patterns on their bodies that they can change. They can become very pale, very vivid, interesting. The dynamics I have with them all are just so delightful. During the Coronavirus period, they were great companions. As an artist, I have no issue with social isolation in the first place, but it is nice to have the animals. The main difference with animals is that they don't lie. They might play tricks on you, but they will never outright lie to you.