WORKING WITH NEW AND UNFAMILIAR MATERIALS: FOSSIL IVORY

Sometimes I'm forced to explore methods of achieving the look I envision when working with unfamiliar material. If unusual and of high quality (which often means expensive) an element of risk and excitement is added to the mix. Damaging or breaking material means not only destroying something beautiful, but also requires time& effort replacing it before the project can proceed. Often, the broken items are irreplaceable or too expensive for the artist to repurchase. Bearing this and the unique, sacred aspect materials like fossil ivory holds for me, I approach my work with respect, reverence, and humility.

Yup'ik, where this fossil ivory was harvested from beaches during the brief summer.

The material in question is fossil ivory, one of my favorites, along with milky Baltic amber, Mayan jade, and North American turquoise.  I like it more than diamonds, rubies, or gold, and many months passed before I achieved the inner confidence and perfectly poised, balanced frame of mind required before approaching the ivory and embarking on a new creation. 

Fossil ivory is harvested from beaches during the summer by First Nations peoples along the Alaskan and Siberian coasts. The batch I purchased came from the Yup'ik penninsula. (In my next blog Ill write a little more about the Yupik and other First Nations of the north.) Time and exposure to the elements makes each one unique. Some are remnants of tools used by the ancestors: grooves, unusual angles, cross thatching, pecking and notching are evident on some, while others are chunks of walrus tusk and even whole teeth, ranging from creamy white to black, satin smooth to textured and pitted.

The samples in my hand illustrate some of the colors found in fossil ivory. When found on the beach they look like plain old rocks or chunks of gray driftwood, and must be tumbled before looking like this.

To get the best wholesale price, I purchased a substantial amount of undrilled material, and had a difficult time finding anyone to drill them. Either they'd never worked with fossil ivory and were afraid of breakage, or were reluctant to risk ruining such expensive (and sometimes unpredictable) material even if fairly sure how to go about it. My dentist was going to let me use his equipment, but decided at the last moment the hard material might damage his drill. So what to do?

There are instructional articles on the Internet for drilling fossil ivory, but information varies. Authors assume readers own expensive lapidary equipment, a workbench full of power tools, and a professional workshop in which to work and make a big mess.

 Finally, I found the old receipt with my supplier's phone number. Many of the First Nations people harvesting fossil ivory (or dealers who buy direct from them) live in the bush part of the year, off the grid. They usually don't have business websites so if contact information is lost, its tough finding them again. I was lucky!  My supplier is also a scrimshaw artist, and over the phone told me exactly what to do in about 3 minutes. It was far simpler and low tech than any instructions posted online by gem/lapidary artists and scrimshaw artists.

My husband let me raid his toolbox. We assembled the tools and drill bits on my worktable ( the dining room table)

From several hundred pieces of fossil ivory I selected those best suited to this design, and from these chose pieces slightly concave, convex or perfectly flat. Some were curved on one side, flat on the opposite which was perfect. 

The piece below is concave and fits snugly around the longest piece that will hang center. After marking where the wire must pass in order to suspend the pieces in position, I held the drill in place, allowing it to gently set the pace, rather than forcing.

Using a length of scrap wire, I played with and adjusted placement of the pieces, bearing in mind not only overall size but the color and texture of  how each would fit into the entire composition. 

Working with organic forms is also a methodof tactile meditation. One doesn't 'just string' beads. Size, proportion, texture, color, nuance, overall composition and balance play equally important roles. By touch and sight the artist knows what to do. Sometimes sound plays a role: jingling, rattling, clicking - all are good medicine and contribute to the artist's involvement with her work, and contentment as she/he creates.

Above, upper left in the photo is a remnant from an ancient tool, worn smooth from centuries in the sand and sea. Who  fashioned this tool, what was her/his story? Or is this part of a small spear or arrowhead?

They fit together as if fashioned to do so. When strung on the necklace these two pendant pieces won't point in opposite different directions like tree roots. Rather, they'll hang in this nested position, as a single element. Note the black dot where the bead channel will be drilled. 

The two center pieces are successfully drilled and tonight Ill be finishing the drilling. By tomorrow evening this design should be ready for assembling with the beads that will continue up the sides and behind the neck.

MORE ABOUT THE YUP' IK AND OTHER NORTHERN NATIONS IN MY NEXT BLOG