Contemplating ethnic identity ... plus a pic

Actually, in the opposite order.  Here's the pic: first version of a necklace based on the Castellan Necklace for a custom order.  Vintage hinge plate, new and vintage brass chain, vintage buttons and an embellished clay bead.

 
Purty!  But rather weird.  I normally don't go that asymmetrical, largely because M doesn't like it.  I'm actually going to switch out the bead for a button that pulls the nice brassy yellow over to that side of the necklace.  Great customer, by the way; when I asked if she wanted any specific colors she said brownish metallics with possibly some rust, mustard or maybe green.  That is an awesome way to commission a piece.  Tells me exactly what sort of corroded metal tone is being asked for, there are just SO many shades of it, but here I knew what she had in mind ...  Hooray!  I can't get a photo that shows how cool that jeweled button above the hinge is: it's got this lovely smoky silver depth ...

Now for the contemplation.  Last week I got confirmation of something I've suspected for a long time: I have Native American ancestry.  Specifically, I'm part Dakota Sioux.

See, I learned in one of my archaeology classes that one of the ways to identify what cline (which is a little like race but more biologically based and less socially monolithic) human remains represent is to check the shape of the incisor teeth.  Shovel-shaped incisors indicate either Native American or Asian ancestry.  By the simple expedient of shoving my fingers in my family's mouths, I discovered that my brother Andrew and I, like our father, have the shovel incisors, while Mom doesn't.

I knew my great-great-grandfather, Clifford, was the captain of a Chinese tea clipper and a Civil War blockade runner, so either option was a possibiliy.  Last week I finally got a chance to check my grandparents' teeth and, as it turns out, my paternal grandfather's grandmother was related to one of the followers of Sitting Bull.

Now this is cool.

Conveniently enough, it's also Native American month over at Multiculturalism for Steampunk, which is probably part of what got me thinking more deeply about it.

You see, it's also a little startling because I've never thought of myself as having any Native American blood -- and also because I've read Boas and Sapir and Whorf and to ascribe excessive significance to an ethnicity goes against everything I've been taught for four years at university.

Further ponderings after the jump.

Show Report!

... well, the boutique was a little unfortunate.  The lady who put it together was lovely, it was a nice day, Grandma came along to assist and that was nice ...

... and I didn't have a single customer.

Well, there were a couple of families who were clearly yard-saling, and one of them tried to buy my mirror and a woman tried to buy the wire vase I hang some of my earrings on.  The primary problem, I think, is that the house it was at is in the middle of suburban nowhere -- a twenty-minute drive from the freeway and twenty-five from the university.

And the wind picked up -- I mean, it always gets briskly breezy in the afternoon in Riverside, I expect to lose my sign and chase business cards a couple of times and I always spend the day flicking my table covers back down, but today my whole earring tree went over and a couple of pairs shattered.  I took that as a sign from God and left early -- which I feel guilty about.  Just not guilty enough to regret going home and taking a nap.

However, one of the other vendors might be purchasing some stuff from me in future, so the day wasn't a wash.  Onward to fill some online orders!

Quick reminder ...

Riverside locals, I'll be doing my winter art-boutique appearance at a private show this year.

The show is tomorrow from 11 to 3 at 8738 Quailbush Drive in Riverside.  Entry is free, there is a free raffle, and apart from me it will also feature Chef Barcelona, Coco's Crafting Corner, Dove Chocolate, D*Tales Custom Bulletin Boards, Mary Kay, Pampered Chef, Simply Fun, and Tisa's Vintage Affairs.

Come see me, and if you mention my blog there's a free bracelet in it for you!

The Conversation About Coral

This Craftivism article was on the Etsy blog last month: Declaring Coral Too Precious to Wear.

The thing about it is ... well, yes, coral is a living thing, but that also means coral dies.  And the exoskeletons aren't food for anything that I know of.  Basically, once a coral dies, it becomes proto-sand.

The coral I use in my jewelry designs was sold to me as "responsibly collected."  And I do believe firmly in the responsibility to source one's materials, especially in jewelry design -- we need to know our diamonds are conflict-free (link is disturbing), we need to know if we're selling Swarovski crystal jewelry or a Chinese imitation that will fade to grey-brown before the bridesmaids wear their bracelets -- but there's also a limit to what is possible.  And honestly, I'm willing to accept that the grab bags of broken coral pieces from which I get my branches are pre-deceased coral, that it's found on a beach and not cut from a reef.  I can't follow the shop owner around stalking her to see if she does any snorkeling.  I can only note whether she's offering whole ocean corals next to my grab bags of broken pieces, and make an educated guess about her suppliers' collection practices from there.

So when I say that my coral is "responsibly collected," that's what I mean: "To the best of my reasonable knowledge, this is coral that was not poached or killed to be sold."


Available here.

That makes it sound a little creepy, doesn't it?  But honestly, all the ocean-sourced materials -- shells, coral, starfish, everything but pearls -- are the exoskeletons of marine creatures.  It doesn't necessarily have to be alarming, unless we're also finding bone, horn and leather alarming.  Let it be stated: The coral and shell jewelry isn't vegan.

So why did I make this post when it makes my jewelry sound mildly creepy?  Well, I wanted to join the conversation about coral -- and I like it when customers ask me about my sources.  It makes me respect them a little more if they're concerned and it allows me to talk more about my favorite thing: beads and found objects.

Also, I alluded to it in the first part of my article series about writing descriptions to sell handmade products, so I thought if the question was going to arise in such a timely manner I'd better clarify here.

Now, having read the Etsy Storque article, there's another thing -- all those pink and red coral beads that are so readily available.  I guess I've always assumed that coral was farmed somewhere, like pearls, but according to that article, it can't be.  So while I'm not going to toss my small current supply, once I've used it up, I'll be trying some alternatives like ceramic or mountain jade to get that effect.

tl;dr: My coral is responsibly collected to the best of my knowledge and I'm going to stop purchasing any I'm unsure of.

More Steampunk Apologetics

Apparently the blogosphere has decided in the last two weeks that it's tired of steampunk.

Okay.  I can respect that, especially in the "throw a gear on it and it's trendy" atmosphere of late.  But people think they need to justify it.  Some say it's overdone, some say everything steampunk needs to do something or it's not, and others say it's elitist and over-focused on pith-helmeted Brits and their teacups.

That last -- yes.  Yes it is.  And I have two links on the subject.

Link the First.  Once something becomes stereotyped it is time to parody it.  I've taken to watching this guy daily.  It makes my life happier.  Ladies, gentlemen, people of uncertain and indetectable gender: Professor Elemental.

Link the Second.  Once something becomes stereotyped it is time to freshen it up.  Ladies, gentlemen, children in undistinguished frocks: Multiculturalism for Steampunk.

Link the Third.  Yes, I know I said two.  Anyway, there's a great post on Tea with the Squash God about it.  As usual, Ursula Vernon says it better than me.

Link the Fourth.  Yes, I know I said three.  Have an Etsy Treasury of multicultural steampunk with not a pith helmet in sight: I'll Show You the World Beyond the Park.

On a similar note, I made the front page again (it really is the obsessive treasury-making that's doing it) and this piece got wonderfully, squee-inducingly ridiculous amounts of attention:

Sold!

I like how it's rusty/industrial but still feminine with the stylized florals.  I'm currently working on a similar one for a custom order.  It's got an old hinge plate in.  I'll post photos when done, but this will probably be a couple weeks since my grandparents are visiting which, due to seniority-based room-shuffling, puts my brother sleeping in the craft room which serves as my studio.  Whoops!

So yeah.  Steampunk: I still think it's cool, and still has a lot of growth potential as a genre once it crests the novelty wave.

Ahahahaha!  I just saw this.  Link the Fifth.  The Beautiful Necessity has a post about Steampunk Pre-Raphaelites.  Unlike the author, I think the Steampunk PRB would be awesome in that awesomely unmatching-pairs awesome way.

omigod u guyz

I was kvetching to M about how I've got to have some reserves of energy for continuing to care about things, like making my Spanish papers perfect and keeping on reading my Survival International email newsletters and noticing which students skip tutoring, and then I realized something.

I'm jaded!

I have achieved jadedness.

I am now qualified to be in my 20s.  Only a year late.  And to have a degree.

Squeeee!

Oh, and incidentally, I'm not doing UCR's Market Day this year (partly because I tutor that day and partly because they annoyed me so much last spring by admitting anything-and-everything for sale), but instead I'll be doing a private craft fair on November 13.  There will be quilts, chocolate, home decor, a vintage seller ...

The Holiday Backyard Boutique will be from 11-3 at 8738 Quailbush Drive in Riverside, so please, locals, join me for in-person jewelry shopping!

A meditation upon plastic

Available here.

I generally avoid plastics. I once posted a spirited defense of them on someone else's blog, noting that they were often very elegant-looking, stood up to hard wear much better than cheap glass, and their lightness for their size made them extremely useful for applications were weight was a concern. Besides, a lot of people love vintage plastic. That said, I do tend to worry that they'll make my work seem cheap -- and I charge relatively low prices and am, you know, a beader, so I get that a lot from the apparently endless supply of incredibly rude browsers.

I hate to use my own work to prove my point, but ... I think I have here proven my point.

All the beads in this brooch are either plastic or vintage brass.  The almond-shaped beads are vintage too.  They have an AB finish (which is why this thing was so bloody hard to get a photo of that wasn't green).  This is a use where the lightness matters -- beads of that size and this brooch's dimensionality in stone, ceramic, even glass might have made this impossible to wear on any but the sturdiest weave -- and the design is gorgeous.  They also, because of the secure wrapping and their flattened shape, can't have their mold lines turn the front, which is something I hate.  I'd use more plastic if there weren't those visible seams.

I'm not going to become a vintage plastics hound -- there are many people in that niche, and more power to 'em -- but I need to work on not treating my cool plastic stuff like a red-headed stepchild.

Singing the tutoring blues

Let me preface this by saying that I actually really adore my students this year.  Many of them are incredibly clever; when I asked them what their favorite books were, for instance, most of them had smart, erudite answers as to what they enjoyed and why.

That said.

There are many ways to bother an English tutor.  My personal least favorite is the ones who show up, say "Oh, I'm fifteen minutes early."  And then walk in and sit down like they own the place.

Excuse me, Princess.  This is my lunch.  I get three lunches in a five-day week.  I guard them jealously.

When shooed away, they hover -- and look in four times in the ten minutes before I break down and let them in to ask "Are you done yet?"

And then spend the entire tutoring session none-too-subtly hinting, every time I try to compliment them on their grasp of the material, "So we can speed through this?"  I mean, I generally let them fly and be free if they've gotten through my planned material.  I plan for twenty minutes and questions.  But if they push for it ...

You probably guessed that all the dialogue came from one specific student.  On the same day back in Week 2 -- I wrote it down at the time because I found it so egregious.  But yeah.  It's a generalized problem.

So I'm amusing myself now, as I have been doing since Wednesday of Week 2, by composing a worksheet of vindictive busy work.  So I can hand it to the ones who really push me to be done early.

Some elements I should probably remove are the passive-aggressive ones:
"Write a complete thesis explaining why tutors should be treated with respect."

And the aggressive-aggressive ones:
"Write a complete thesis taking a position on the statement, 'I, the completer of this sheet, am an aggressive, irritating little sleazeball with no understanding of respect, personal space, or basic sociable behavior.'"

Yeah, that probably has to go.

Um ... don't write about your job on your blogs under any identifiable name, kids.

A Last Quarter List

1. Dear God, I haven't had my jewelry stuff out in weeks.  It's a darn good thing I have such a backlog of photos to post.  It's just ... see, I have this issue where when I'm staring at things to do, I get incredibly overwhelmed very very quickly.  So pulling all the stuff on the shelves and then having to put it all back to get it off my mother's table does not currently feel like an option.  I'm told this can be a sign of Tourette's or ADHD.  Ya don't say.
2. Assuming I don't manage to do it again in the next month-and-change, the total number of times in my undergraduate career I have locked my keys in my car is 2.  I'm pretending this is an excellent final score.
3. I've developed a weird habit.  Rather than have a key dish like a normal person, when I get home and tear my clothes off to change into representatives from my growing collection of Threadless tees and gypsy skirts with pockets, all the stuff from my pockets -- the Pilot G2-07 ink pens I insist on, five-dollar bills, loose change, two kinds of chapstick and my cell phone -- are filed carefully in a shoe.  I actually now have a shoe I don't wear but reserve solely for this purpose.  It's a left Croc knock-off with fleece lining.  It goes on the floor under the window.
4. If I don't make 50 sales by the end of the year I am going to drown myself.  Please don't consider this a guilt thing, O Gentle Reader.  I've just been sitting at 49 since spring.  Mind you, I'm getting more attention than I used to, treasuries and blog-offers and such, and once the front page, so I assume this is just the summer-fall sales slow-down.  I'm writing this way ahead of time, mind (almost all of my list posts take a few weeks to slowly compose), so I might hit that goal by the time I post this thing.
5. On a vaguely related note, my favorite line from a Shakespeare play remains Roderigo's "I shall incontinently drown myself" from Act I in Othello, just because in modern parlance that's a great freakin' metal image.
6.  One of my shirttail cousins, Roland's girlfriend D, loaned me a book called The Girls Who Went Away which is several case studies of adoptions after the first Great War but before Roe v. Wade.  It's brilliant and heartbreaking and reads as smoothly as fiction.  I was desperately in need of a book to relax with, having read my way through Discworld again, and this fits the bill beautifully.
7. Why, why in my final quarter at UCR have I finally started making undergrad friends?  Surely these cool people have always been here.  Where were they?  Where were all the other socially awkward/steampunk-loving/lunch-packing/vintage-shopping/sexually-liberated/too-loud/Twilight-hating/anime-watching/any-or-all-of-the-above Anthro majors for the last three years?  Have I just been missing them?  Actually, this is horrible but I think what happened is half have graduated and the other half have moved a few places down their people-to-talk-to list to me.
8. I think I might start posting links to more of the treasuries I make.  Treasury used to be a nightmare, but now it's wonderful.  Easy to do and easy to get a spot and wonderful relaxing fun.  Great for a nice positive way to connect with other Etsians too.  As I believe I've said before, the forums depress me, so this is nice. 
9. For the first time in years, I didn't dress as anything recognizable for Halloween yesterday.  I was all set to wear my LOLcat costume from two years ago, but I forgot that I was working at the time and I designed the costume to go under my apron.  It doesn't work without the apron.  And all the other costumes -- my RAF uniform, my Gibson Girl dress, my Ren Faire stuff, all the ones from the Azkatraz con last year -- went with M to South Carolina in my cedar chest.   Now, mind you, I RP, so it's often recognizable to M which of the various characters I play were allowed to pick my clothes on a given day -- black and red and poet shirts and a short chain necklace is one person, skirts and heels and a lot of green is another, brown boots and a brown leather collar is yet another -- but this isn't detectable to anyone else.  Hence, I threw on the hand M and I made and my combat boots and called it a costume.
10. I like to refer to this day as All Saints' Day.  It makes me feel educated.  I generally manage to resist spelling Halloween as Hallowe'en.
11. I shall now resist the conventional list-of-ten format by making this very statement.  Aha!

Our Bloody Alma Mater

Remember that thing I said a bit ago (like a month ago) about clinging to the romance of my insanely punishing class schedule?  Remember how I said I hoped it wouldn't wear off?

One of the, ah, things about UCR, and symptomatic of the reasons I cannot in good conscience recommend it to any undergraduate, is that there is not nearly enough parking.  For a largely commuter school with terrible overcrowded dorms, you would think they would provide enough parking space handy to campus.

Instead, the parking is Disneyland-distance from nowhere, and there are about a hundred and fifty too few spaces for as many commuters as are on campus at midday on any given weekday.

I thought they had fixed some of the problem this year.  They've certainly painted in more spots, and I've had no trouble thus far.

Some days ago, however, I discovered that reason it seemed fixed was entirely due to my class schedule.