You probably know from previous posts that I love brutalist jewelry. I guess you all know the work of Laine, Sarpaneva, Vidal and Larin, but I thought I'd show you one of my norwegian favorites.
Juhls' Silver Gallery is located in
Kautokeino, in the very north of Norway. The story of Regine and Frank
Juhls is as lovely as it is fascinating. In the 1950s Regine, who is originally from
Germany, studied at a theater school in Wienna, Austria, when she
started her journey to escape urban Europe, and find a place more
favourable to her creativity. Up in the north of Norway she met Frank
from Denmark, that was pursueing the same 'non-urban project'. In 1959 they started a small workshop. This was in the
earliest years of the Studio Silver Movement in Norway. They were true pioneers who started out empty-handed
to build up something in the wilderness. In the Fifties there were no
roads across the tundra yet - not even a path to where they wanted to
build. And therein lay the challenge. At first the building materials
had to be rowed over a river and then carried up a mountain. With
indefatigable pleasure in their work the two of them put up a house. The workshop
developed over the years into a gallery in a large building with
interesting architecture, reflecting the shapes of the surrounding landscape.
The
Juhls were fascinated by the nature on the tundra, and by the Sami
people who lived there. They started to repair silver jewelry for them
and this developed into a renewal of the tradition of jewelry used with
their folk costumes. Gold- and silversmiths were unknown here.
Because of their unsettled lifestyle it was difficult for the Laps to develop a craft that would have required fixed workshops. Nevertheless the
Laps had centuries old traditions concerning the wearing of particular jewellery
which they acquired through trade. Driving the Laps' enthusiasm for
self-adornment to greater heights and thereby taking into account the
particular ideas of the Sami is still an important task for this workshop - the
first of its kind in all of Lapland. Some of the jewelry, inspired from old grave
treasures, have animal shapes and are similar to modern studio jewelry
with naivistic influence.
However, it is the
modern jewelry of the Juhls' workshop that has been internationally
acknowledged. He paints - she creates sculptured jewellery. Both of
them are inspired by immense, untouched Nature. Regine's collection, named 'Tundra', in her own
words 'inspired by the eternal Wasteland of the arctic', has a tough
elegance. It is the result of a life in isolation, far away from large
cities, in fascination for the nomadic lifestyle, near to nature,
stones, bones, lichen and moss, from which it has borrowed it's shapes. The
collection is characterized by uneven surface texture, negative space,
raw unpolished white silver surfaces, and sometimes brightly colored
stones. The very earliest pieces and the prototypes are made of small
pieces of silver hammered and then soldered together.
Some
of the pieces from the 'Thundra Series' were exhibited at Expo 67, the
Montreal World's Fair in Canada, where Regine Juhls and Tone Vigeland
(another great favorite!) were chosen to represent Norwegian art of jewelry making.
There's an awful lot of text in this post, I know.... Still I want to show you Regine's jewelry accompanied by her text "Winged nomads", which is so beautifully written and gives you a glimpse into her artistic prosess and her loving appreciation for the landscape that surrounds her and that she draws her inspiration from. Her words are truly beautiful, I promise you won't regret spending a few minutes on them.
Winged Nomads
"If
I want to describe beauty, the first thing that comes to my mind is the
majestic appearance of large birds of passage, and it seems to me as if
I feel something like the resonance of their calls inside me. - Each
time they're always overhead quite unexpectedly. Before I grasp their
presence they're already flying across distant skies. - These few
seconds are like an initiation into the mysteries which are forever
unfathomable to mankind. Everything I am holding at that moment - things
and thoughts - I simply have to drop. For I feel as if I am seeing a
miracle. - After that there is a void, as if the birds have taken
something away with them. As if to replace it, I try to form shapes.
Sometimes I succeed."
"Being creative, - is it not like filling a deserted sky? Or is it
like with certain uninhabited rooms? As soon as the door opens they
swarm out from all over. They are the ideas woven in secrets which have
been waiting for someone to knock ... Picture a Tundra landscape, a vast
Arctic plain. Snow has covered it, but no-one has yet trodden out a
path. - Nature is practically crying out for it; - and somebody comes
... Being creative is like an act of defiance to the knowledge of the
meaninglessness of the individual. It is an attempt to portray the
longing for perception. Sometimes it is perception itself - other times a
simple game, and it is again different and so much more. - But how to
realize an idea? - At first glance the work of a goldsmith can seem to
be an accumulation of mere trifles."
"Saw this, file away that, solder it together again, sand it down -
what pedantry! The empty room, the vast plains, the bewitching calls of
winged nomads - where has it concealed itself, that which opened the
door to creativity? What was it that had me jump over an abyss, only to
leave me with good workmanship? At times I feel deceived. Or I am
plagued by doubt: creativity, - what is it worth? Doesn't it always
harbour a seed of destruction? Why reveal secrets, why tread footprints
in virgin snow? Look at the birds who don't form anything - but they
don't deform anything, either ...
Another time I am overcome with scorn
for my work: "What am I making? Baubles for vain ladies?" One
consolation is that much is form enough in itself, - regardless of use
and weight, - a form which could be made of iron or silver - could be a
sculpture or jewellery. However, that I then wrestle with it, as if it
were vital,. simply to make nuances harmonize with ideas what ridiculous
seriousness! And yet I continue, out of a feeling of obligation and out
of obstinacy, - and each time the resistance melts and disappears
completely. It is always the mysteries of a microcosm that attract me
and seek to suck me in, until I suddenly catch hold of the end of a
thread, and thereupon cast myself wholeheartedly into this unknown. Soon
it is my soul which takes the lead as if to head a magical parade. It
determines the rhythm, the formation, and before a couple of days have
passed I am again convinced that there is nothing more important than
creating something beautiful."
"I am no technician. An "old-fashioned" person, I stand helpless when
faced with apparatus with knobs, - barely able to reconcile myself with
a pair of compasses and a ruler. Nor am I one of those who must under
all circumstances work with their hands. After all, I am always
surprised at being able to solve aesthetic problems with my hands. I
work with my eyes. Indeed, I love beauty. Most of all, though, I am
basically geared to making something out of nothing - on no matter what
subject. Everywhere I discover" something, find, pick up, collect what
others would overlook, scorn even, and disgard. In the tiny remains of
broken, half-decayed things a whole world of possibilities can open up
to me."
"When enthusiasm overcomes me, I become like a child, not noticing
that I am sawing my finger or singeing my hair. And be it child or
sorceress - no, the enthusiastic servant of a sorceress who juggles with
corrosive acids, sulphur, gas and fire, I am warm and raw with
gratitude because I know: I serve Beauty ... Until I have finished and
woken up sober in order to let the new piece of jewellery pass through
the hands of our friendly employees. Now the model has to be copied so
that it resembles the original as closely as possible.
The Lap Tundra: During Summer's embrace the earth breathes beneath a
phosphorus-green net embroidered with a pattern of tiny plants.
Mushrooms, moss and lichen - the claim to be able to recognize this
abundant sprouting of the tiniest plants in my jewellery, - is it not
just the wishful thinking of the well-disposed? Or can living a long
time in a particular landscape develop a style? - the ability to
experience Nature with fervour, - we understand that it fills the soul.
Likewise we understand that in the profusion the soul gives of itself.
But what is it that is added and produces poems that have to be written
on paper, and forms that have to be made with tools? - It isn't known."
"It is very sad that I hardly get a chance to make jewellery, - if I
do, it's winter, and then only rarely. There is always something else to
do to preserve what we've built up. Sometimes more than a year passes
and my hands are no longer used to the tools. Even touching them almost
requires an effort, and all the doubts find excuses to put off making a
start. - Finally I clear a big table, root out what I have collected and
tip it out over the bare surface. That helps give me a perspective. And
already a mysterious mechanism starts up. ..
"Well, look at that, -
that's not bad," I can hear myself mumbling. "This half-molten fragment
here - and that one over there, - surprising that I've still got that!"
And I brood over all these metallic curiosities. It is like in the
summery Tundra, - when I am engrossed in the "forest" of the thousands
of individual tree lets" that make up the reindeer moss. - Finally I go
to my workbench. And there I stay, - day and night. And I love my work! -
Now the ideas assail me. It is as if I were being wrapped up in
crackling garlands, just like the Northern Lights when I stomp through
the snow on winter nights. I saw, file, sand down, as if anaesthetized
by the flowering pot plants around me. Now I experience the practical
work as something precious, - something that glows, smells even, - like
white hyacinths in dark sunless days. ...
Outside storms can rage and the frost can hammer mighty blows against
our walls. "That's Winter," we say and smile. So what? We face the fact
that he will stay for at least eight months. - But all of us here in
the North - people and animals - long for Summer. We are beside
ourselves when she comes. And when she goes, we feel as if we'd had her
for a long time, for we loved every moment of her presence. - Then the
Tundra colours, blazes, glows, and we know... now it is at its most
beautiful. ...
After that it gets quiet. Autumn, late autumn - a new
innocence, a submissive virginity trembles around each defoliated twig.
This bareness, trusting in whatever may come ... I don't know why this
season moves me so much. Reverently I follow the slightest changes, roam
carefully through the silent wilderness. It is so delicate, you hardly
dare approach. A shaking emanates from the straggling rusty-brown
birches. The moors glisten palely around timidly grey waters. A weak,
yellow-ochre glimmer of forgotten willows lingers on the open plain, -
around distant heights' there is still a touch of violet ...
Standing on a hill, I am gripped by the feeling that I am looking at
the end of all things, and yet I am only standing at the beginning of
Siberian eternity. And I say to myself "This is where I live" and a
thankful sensation of security comes over me. There, suddenly -
wonderous calls. From behind denuded trees regal birds soar into the air
with mighty beating of their wings, high, high into the air and away
from all that ties one to the ground. - At that moment I am transfixed
by a swan-white light that takes my breath away. "Yes", I think, and I
find myself on knees, "I've just seen a miracle". Tundra -you demand
also from us the humility which is only inherent in animals. Rarely does
a human succeed in getting close to your wholeness, - and you honour
that person by welcoming him."
The buildings alone are well worth a trip to Juhls silvergallery. I still haven't been there, it's a really long journey from here, actually as far as from here to Italy. Gives you an idea of our long and narrow country! My parents have, though, and told me it was an unforgettable experience. It's very high on my list. The jewelry pictures and Regine's text are from www.juhls.com. Sadly, the image quality doesn't match the greatness of their work. I like using my own pictures in my posts, but the ones below, as you've probably guessed, are shamelessly "borrowed" from cyberspace. I've downloaded them some time ago, so unfortuneately I can't remember who to credit. I'm not very proud of that bit... But I just had to show you this amazing place. The lamps in the first pic are to die for... They're called "Orient", and were designed by Jo Hammerborg for Fog & Mørup in 1963.
The roofs of the buildings spread out over the variously-shaped rooms like
snowdrifts over the Tundra... The buildings are filled with art from other diciplines, paintings, prints, glass, ceramics, as well as collections of old sami artefacts.
I do not know the people in the picture below, but couldn't resist showing you the lovely Falcon chairs by Sigurd Resell....
The buildings and outdoor space contain several ongoing artworks and murals by Frank Juhls.
Regine and Frank Juhls, don't they look lovely?
