Is there such a thing as too much jewelry? IS THERE? Schmuck 2012 may have just been that. I say this in a conflicting manner, as it is amazing to finally have the ability to see so much work in one place and yet have that be the problem simultaneously. Unfortunately, and like many others who flocked to Munich for this event, I could absolutely not attend every single collateral gallery show. I arrived the morning of the 15^th and left the evening of the 18^th.  I also needed some naps. And sometimes I got lost. And then there were the sausages. Anyway, please accept my most sincere apologizes for missing what else was out there. And I’m sure I missed some golden nuggets (FROWN FACE).

I have delayed this first response for a few reasons, the main one being my uncertainty of knowing how to properly digest it all- how to spit it back out in a critical but informative way, speaking of each conversation I had meanwhile, and reporting on the good, the bad, and the boring. Let’s not forget that attending Schmuck was research, and how to categorize or at least sort it all is a daunting task. This bit and those to follow will be a review of sorts, perhaps even a critique in all actuality, and they will all point to previously mentioned ideas spoken about on the blog in effort to synthesize concepts of my existing research.

I will start by explaining one of the main interests in attending Schmuck in the first place, which primarily had to do with looking at display conventions and forms of exhibition. Who were the innovators and who were the traditionalists? The first show I was able to see was MURMURation, a group show including artists Silke Fleischer, Adam Grinovich, Dana Hakim, Hannah Joris, Jorge Manilla, Peter Vermandere, Willy Van de velde, and Stephen Gallagher. This show was indicated as Upstairs on the Schmuck guide, differentiating itself from Downstairs, where the work of Ulo Florack and Caroline von Steinau-Steinrück was also displayed. These side-by-side exhibitions had nothing to do with one another, almost perfectly summarizing what I would distinguish as what to do more of and what not to do ever again. Let me put it this way; after a half glance I walked straight through downstairs and went right upstairs. And here’s why:

An instant turn off, really. And that’s not to say that perhaps the work within these god-awful display cases wasn’t… interesting. Surely there was a gem or two. Florack is actually quite a successful German artist who has exhibited everywhere. His I-don’t-really-give-a-shit statement is even short, sweet and good:

Anticipating the signs of the time is not the intention doing my jewellery. Being too early or too late is quite the same to me – therefore I will continue to do it my way. 
If my jewellery lights a fire in someone, I would be delighted to be the treasurer.

But to my disappointment, the pieces were all too crowded and unapproachable like other jewelry exhibitions far too often. And WHY? Now I will type in bold, as I guess we could call this my first main point: Editing is important. If you want people to actually see the work, to look at each piece and appreciate each one for all it might be worth, then give it some god damn room to breath. Being selective indicates a critical eye.

“But jewelry is small!” you might say. It doesn’t matter. Or I suppose I should say it shouldn’t matter. There shouldn’t be an “everything goes” type of system just because it all fits inside the room.

Thankfully it was better upstairs.

I am going to attempt a crappy analogy. Let’s pretend that contemporary jewelry is a bit like mainstream rap. Ok. Jay-Z is a really popular hip-hop artist, correct? But if you listen to a lot of his tracks, he sort of just gives it all away right from the beginning. There’s no build up, no surprises, nothing to look forward to. You basically hear the same whatever for 3 minutes… and it’s boring, in my opinion (it’s either boring or it’s a redone version of a song that was never even good originally [Forever Young/ Young Forever], which is obviously just what everybody needs). One could argue that Downstairs was more like a mediocre Jay-Z song. And although MURMURation really just hung some white fabric from the ceiling, somehow the space became subtly exciting.  At first look pieces could only slightly reveal themselves thanks to light and the translucence of the fabric, asking the viewer to become curious and investigate. There became a delicate exchange between finding and viewing a particular piece that mirrored that same sensitive interaction when handling a piece of jewelry carefully. It was an intimate situation. Most pieces were also suspended from the ceiling allowing gravity to cause a delicate natural movement. It was almost as though each piece wanted to show itself to you. And no, the intimacy I’m stressing doesn’t have anything to do with rap. My point is that one thing should lead you to another, to get you excited to see, or hear, more. Jay-Z don’t do that, and neither did the set up of the show downstairs.

Here is the ever apt statement for MURMURation:

Far away a shape appears, a wave of individuals, volatile reverberations, captivating, emerging and constantly changing, filling your sight. 
Come closer to hear the submerged whisper, blown by breathing voices, indistinctive, continuous public confessions, filling your mind. 
A gathering, a group, a view, composed paradoxes, a form, unpredicted, dispatched, attracted to be repulsed and united. 
A base of Belgian independent artists spread their wings, their mumbling now resonating globally, to form this murmuration. 

So the exhibition set up and the statement match up nicely. Ok, but was the work good? Why yes, indeed it was. And when thinking again about downstairs, it was almost like old meets new. Or Dirt Off Your Shoulder (think about it, the best part of the track is given up immediately! It’s a good song but nothing else happens…) meets Busta Rhymes’ Can You Keep Up. Or something. I said this was a crappy analogy.

Showstoppers included the meticulous work of artist Silke Fleischer, and Schmuck darlings Adam Grinovich and Jorge Manilla. Each artist had a brief corresponding statement, which like the exhibition itself, led me to want more. What brought all these artists to share a room? The show boasted an appropriate and manageable amount of work. I felt as though I could look at everything and digest it fairly equally, not to be overwhelmed. Some pieces I spent a lot of time with, like Hannah Joris’s Cura Posterior VI, but naturally some didn’t deserve the same detailed attention…dare I name Hakim and Vermandere? As a side note however, I will say that Vermandere’s statement (I found this on www.kathlibbertjewellery.co.uk) is an example to be followed!

Peter Vermandere, born in 1969, is considered to be a sculptor who likes to make ornaments. Or as a goldsmith, who likes to compose exhibitions. We can find a few more paradoxes in this maker, copywriter, goldsmith and fantasy man. Peter Vermandere would not want it any other way.

It may be difficult to decipher whether or not the compare and contrast situation of upstairs vs. downstairs made MURMURation that the more satisfying. Perhaps it doesn’t matter. Either way, I left asking myself a big fat question that has haunted me ever since first hearing it a year or so ago and that continued to haunt me even more my entire Schmuck experience.

“AND WHAT ABOUT THE BODY?”

Coincidentally, we can thank Adam Grinovich.

Speaking specifically to this show, Willy Van de Velde wins the special prize for attempting to answer this question. It’s not that his work, which was showcased outside upon entering the gallery, necessarily addresses this question in its fundamentals, but the nonchalant display somehow solved the problem from which most jewelry exhibitions suffer. Who wears the work, and how?

click —->here for more.

Now let’s do some math. This was ONE gallery show out of about a million. I am in quite the predicament, aren’t I, wanting to give respect to the work where due and talk about it justly. How long will that take, forever? Probably yes. And notice that I literally only mentioned one piece by name in a show that I described as manageable. What’s worse is that unfortunately, most other shows, were not manageable; I mean that there was just too much work in one place at one time. Like I’ve expressed before, this is the problem that we face. The work deserves to be admired individually, right? Or perhaps the contemporary jewelry world is OK with eyes skimming over the tops of hundreds of meticulously made pieces into which one set of hands poured hours of research and skill. What say the artist? What about their ideal environment for their own work? Perhaps who is meant to have the piece will find it. But this sounds too much like destiny, and god knows I don’t believe in that. Let’s just try to keep going.                                                                                                        CAN YOU KEEP UP?