Handling materials throughout the production process, and participating in their transformation - from liquid to solid, from ingot to wire, and from a flat sheet into a three-dimensional object - brings me a special thrill that keeps me coming back again and again.
Although I work with a variety of metals (see below), it is my fascination with woven wire cloth that usually takes center stage. I first developed this interest during the early 1990s, when I became enthralled by an art exhibit in Paris that featured a moire pattern formed by overlapping layers of stainless steel mesh. I first got my hands on it when I used it as screen material for a room divider for a furniture design class. Many years later, when I began to work with precious metals, making jewelry, I couldn't resist experimenting with my stainless steel mesh remnants, and incorporating it into my work - to the surprise of my instructor and fellow classmates. Metal mesh is traditionally used for filters in industrial systems, or as a structural base for sculptures in the art world, but it wasn't common in jewelry-making.
My fascination with stainless steel mesh continues to this day. I fold, crinkle, pleat, hammer, wrap, drape, twist the material, treating it almost like fabric, creating voluptuous forms out of flat sheets of metal. Different grades and patterns of mesh, and their intersecting lines, produce complex and dynamic visual effects that change as movement is introduced. In addition, stainless steel is transformed in color as it is heated to different temperatures, so applying a flame patina becomes a wonderfully unpredictable process (the coloring is, however, completely lightfast and not prone to discoloration).
The materials I choose to work with are 'friendly' to the human body (non-toxic and smooth to the touch), and I place high value on utilizing surplus metal mesh from industrial applications. "Repurposing" is at the core of my work ethic. I attribute this to an inherited "make-do" Argentine mentality, reinforced by a sense of economy in design (no more or no less than what is needed).
I like to think that perhaps the invisible trace of my hand, tool, or gesture, is left behind in each piece. What the viewer, or wearer discovers through their interaction with the work is equally intriguing and valuable to me as an artist.