Tamra Gentry

Designer | Jeweler | Metalsmith

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ARTIST’S STATEMENT

I am inspired by color. I have always had strong, visceral reactions to color.

Color is my “hook.”

Things like texture, design, and pattern are all secondary to me. It’s not that I deem them any less important in the sensory and creative processes—it’s just that they rarely evoke the response in me that color does.

In trying to figure out the roots of my affinity for color, the only thing I know with any certainty is that I have always loved it. I was a kid who had to have the brand new box of 64 crayons at the beginning of every school year. I never really used them—I only wanted them because they were pretty to look at (and because that always meant that I'd get a new, unblemished "Magenta"). I had to have the crayons because their colors inspired me to do other creative things.

The first time I began to understand color's effect on me was years ago in high school during one of a series of solo “creative inspiration quests” to the St. Louis Art Museum. It was there that I saw a Kandinsky painting for the very first time. Upon standing face to face with the painting, my heart started racing, my stomach dropped to my feet, I couldn't breathe, and I felt an overwhelming urge to cry. The color and the motion in the painting were so intense that they caused a massive emotional and sensory overload. After experiencing a number of these "Kandinsky-Creative-Crumbles" and picking up on a distinct pattern, I discovered that every one of these "crumbles" resulted in a greater sense of artistic self, as well as a more purposeful creative direction. To this day, I still have the same very strong reaction to some Kandinsky paintings. As a musician and former classical pianist with early-diagnosed perfect pitch, part of me believes that a lot of my reaction could very-well be based on Kandinsky's own theories about art, music and emotion. 

Many years later, it is not surprising that my love for color manifests itself in the jewelry I make. Every stone that I use—be it Fordite or a natural gemstone—is selected because something about its color speaks to me at a deep, gut level. It could be one color or a combination of colors. All I know is that my jewelry is all about color.

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ARTIST'S BIO

Sewing the Seeds

I didn’t set out to become a jewelry artist. At many crucial decision-making periods in my life, designing jewelry wasn’t even a blip on the radar. Becoming a jewelry artist just “happened.”

If I could have done anything in the arts, I was better-suited to become either a classical pianist or a fashion designer. I had the background, training and support to pursue either path. I should have taken my cues from the grown-ups--my dad is a talented-but-closet-artist, and my mother is a talented seamstress who taught me to sew at a very young age. Creativity and the encouragement of expression thereof were abundant in our household.

By eighth grade, I was making almost every other piece of clothing in my wardrobe. I was on the Junior Fashion Board at Famous-Barr in St. Louis, and I participated in a number of fashion shows as both an organizer and model. Later on during both undergraduate and graduate school, as a diversion from my studies I worked for an exclusive bridal boutique and helped behind the scenes with a number of fashion shows, and I worked for both Ann Taylor and Saks Fifth Avenue--I loved every minute of it [the head of our department was a University of Chicago ABD English candidate who had closet fashion tendencies too, so I was in good company]. I still get chills when I see or touch an exquisitely-tailored, hand-crafted piece of clothing. I also still get chills when I walk into a fabric store and smell or touch the “right” piece of fabric; however, the only difference between then and now is that I just don’t feel as inclined to take a needle to thread to try to transform it into anything.

My foray into the world of fashion design was on the back burner for a long time, even well into adulthood.  I was never able to pull the trigger and jump into the risky, fickle, sometimey world of art—with the same fear being applicable to the notion of becoming a concert pianist. I was a lot less of a risk taker then, and because of that, I continued to try to forge an existence in the world of the “safe” and practical.

Though I had always been one of those creative “artsy” types, my future was firmly guided by the self-imposed need to pursue a “real” job that could provide me with both some degree of predictability and a steady income. So instead of majoring in art in college, I enrolled as a business administration major—the ultimate in “safe” careers. I ended up loathing the extent to which conforming was a requirement, and later changed my major to physics.

Woman vs. Herself

After going through the physics program and later obtaining a master’s degree in education, I finished my schooling more unhappy and more torn about my career direction than ever. I became an incessant flip-flopper, oscillating back and forth between art and science for nearly ten years. One minute I was deeply engrossed in pursuing all-things-practical—and luckily for me I had really fallen in love with science and physics by this time and really enjoyed it—and then the next minute, I couldn’t take it anymore and had to find a creative outlet before I imploded from needing to DO art. And old friend once asked me, “Why not do both?” but at the time, the issue of career choice was so black and white for me that I just couldn’t visualize integration of the two.

After several years of this self-imposed torture, I found myself back in academia on the path toward a career in university administration. All of this happened as I desperately struggled to figure out how the heck I was going to make room for a creative outlet. I didn't know how it was going to happen, but it was going to happen.

Initially I was happy being back in academia, and it felt as if I was finally moving forward after all of the years I spent flip-flopping; however, that sense of happiness didn't last long because I started to see all of the things I hated in the corporate world happening within arms-reach in academia, but to a greater degree of dysfunction, or so it seemed. It wasn’t long before my high standards required that I start plotting an exit strategy. Then, Mother’s Day 2004 arrived before I could set my exit strategy in motion.

Turning Point

Mother’s Day, 2004, was a game changer for me. My transformation into a jewelry artist began when I had to figure out what to get my mom and my husband’s mom for Mother’s Day. I really wanted to stay away from all of the usual suspects—chocolate, flowers, etc. So, I decided to make a couple of beaded Swarovski crystal jewelry sets. The moms loved the jewelry, and I gained a huge sense of satisfaction from having created it myself.

Beading is the “entry drug” as many of us jewelers know. So I started out beading, and then I dabbled around with wire wrapping. From that, I began working with Precious Metals Clay. Precious Metals Clay didn’t quite satisfy me because by then I’d developed an intense desire to learn how to fabricate via metalsmithing. Once I began metalsmithing, my hunt for what to do with my life ended abruptly—I didn’t even think about it. This was it, and there was nothing left to figure out.

What turns me on about the art and craft of metalsmithing is that it is a lifetime endeavor. Mastery of metalsmithing comes through many, many years of acquiring and improving upon various skills and techniques. On top of that, the field is dynamic and there is always something new to learn. Fortunately for me, my background in science goes hand-in-hand with being a metalsmith as physics, chemistry, geology and metallurgy are all integral components of metalwork. I get to ponder and play at the same time.

Despite the long and twisted path it took to get here, on most days I don't have any regrets. Every once in a while I’ll find myself wondering what life would have been like as an astrophysicist or a geologist—but I get over it.

I continue to study and create. I must always study; I must always create. It is my need to go through the creative process in particular that regulates how I respond to our complicated existence on our beloved planet home. The creative process is my religion, in a way. Because of this I do not seek to become a "production house." I will do what helps me maintain my sanity, and I will create as I am so-inspired. I hope that you enjoy the results of these quests.

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TRAINING:

I am primarily self-taught, but I have taken courses at both Revere Academy, and Lillstreet Art Center where I am now a member of the metals department faculty. I also apprenticed briefly with goldsmith Peggie Robinson, of Peggie Robinson Designs.

Image Credit: Self-Portrait