My dear friend Esther will soon be leaving Mexico to return to Germany, her country of origin. Although I am sad to see her go, I am sure she will be back one day, as she loves Mexico more than most Mexicans I know. During her five year stay, she chose to settle in Coyoacán, Frida Kahlo's colorful colonial neighborhood in the south of Mexico City.
She now speaks perfect Spanish, and as a natural and passionate collector, she has visited every market in the city, and everywhere she travels to as well. She has an amazing ability to find treasures in the most unlikely places, and has a strong eye for collecting powerful and personal art. In her travels through Central and South America, she has gone off the tourist's path to personally meet artisans and artists.
She now speaks perfect Spanish, and as a natural and passionate collector, she has visited every market in the city, and everywhere she travels to as well. She has an amazing ability to find treasures in the most unlikely places, and has a strong eye for collecting powerful and personal art. In her travels through Central and South America, she has gone off the tourist's path to personally meet artisans and artists.
Esther and I met four years ago at my first jewelry sale at a French bazar in Mexico City. It was the first jewelry collection I ever made, and I wasn't sure if others would like my work. The sale started early, and most people walked by taking little notice. When Esther came by, she stopped and looked at my jewelry as if she had discovered a treasure. She told me how much she loved my work, and bought most of my pieces that day.
Meeting Esther was a turning point in my path as a jeweler. Her reaction to my work made me see that I could trust my taste and my instincts, and it confirmed my feeling that if I make what I love, there will always be someone who loves it too. I will be forever grateful for Esther's support during these past years, as she has continued to purchase her favorite pieces from my collections, and has also inspired me to stay true to my own voice as a jeweler.
I visited Esther in her home a few months ago, to interview her about her passion for collecting, and to document her beautiful textile, art and jewelry pieces.
Meeting Esther was a turning point in my path as a jeweler. Her reaction to my work made me see that I could trust my taste and my instincts, and it confirmed my feeling that if I make what I love, there will always be someone who loves it too. I will be forever grateful for Esther's support during these past years, as she has continued to purchase her favorite pieces from my collections, and has also inspired me to stay true to my own voice as a jeweler.
I visited Esther in her home a few months ago, to interview her about her passion for collecting, and to document her beautiful textile, art and jewelry pieces.
Esther's love for collecting has taken her to discover tiny villages in southern Mexico and Guatemala where women make gorgeous textiles on waist looms. These are from Zinacantán, Chiapas. They remind me of Olaf Hajek's paintings.
A poetic forged cross crowns the top of the staircase.
Hand woven and embroidered textiles from Guatemala.
A beautiful gilded mirror, of Spanish influence, hangs in the living room.
Esther radiates a generous and joyful spirit.
A magical beaded dog made by Huichol indians.
Esther sees beauty everywhere. She turned a bright, embroidered traditional blouse from Juchitán inside out, as she preferred the subtle pattern found on the back.
One of my simple chain and stone necklaces that combines my favorite colors.
Select pieces from Esther's MUSIBATTY jewelry collection.
Esther and I have a shared attraction for simple forms and textured surfaces.
A collection of folk art brings playfulness to the house.
One of my first moonstone rings, darkened with the patina of time, surrounded by a collection of rings from Africa, Asia and the Middle East.
A colorful collection of fiber art jewelry.
Esther's favorite ring, with an intricate hand-sewn textile from Guatemala in the background.
Among the most precious items in Esther's collection are drawings she made when she was a child.
A set of delicately carved and painted combs, made of bone.
Beaded, woven and hand-embroidered bracelets.
A Haitian wall piece made of embossed steel, one of my favorite pieces in Esther's home.
Colorful textiles collected from travels throughout Central and South America.
Traditional hand woven and embroidered belts and rebozos.
A large Tree of Life pendant from one of my first collections, inspired by Japanese art.
Viva la Vida, Frida's mantra that inspires us to live life fully.
Two necklaces I made over four years ago, inspired by Fred Tomaselli's Pill paintings.
What do you look for when you collect?
I look for quality in design. I look for proportion, and I notice what materials are used. If it is a textile, I appreciate harmony in color, fabric and texture. I will always value creativity over price, or over the fact that I will wear a piece.
It has taken me years to develop a certain taste, and for my eye to distinguish a quality piece. It required training in the wider sense: I grew up in a home filled with beautiful objects, because both my parents studied visual arts. I loved going with them to museums and getting lost in a painting. I also drew and painted from an early age, and in college, I studied Art History. When I find colors that work together, I get enormous pleasure. For me, it is like listening to a great piece of music.
When did you begin collecting?
At a certain point in my life, it was no longer enough for me to see a beautiful object in a museum. I wanted to own it and live with it, even if I didn't necessarily use it. I think I began collecting when I was young and somebody gave me a large letterpress drawer (setzkasten), which I hung on the wall. I began placing small objects that I collected in each section: a stone, a ring, a piece of wood, a drawing. I was twelve years old. I am a visual being. For me, it is very important to be surrounded by beautiful objects. I am affected by visual disharmony, even more that I am by air pollution. It makes me feel uneasy.
What do you feel when you purchase a piece?
I think that when I select something I am attracted to, I connect to a need that came from my mother. She had a happy childhood in Poland, in a town called Oberschlesien Schwarzwaldau (a black place in a dark forest). When the Second World War ended, the Russians occupied her town and she and her family had to flee. They were only able to take a few belongings, and my mother never recovered from the shock. She and her family moved to Germany, and she became a typical refugee: she lost her home, her country, her language, and her self-esteem because of it.
I was my mother's first child, and I had such a deep empathy towards her, that I've often dreamt about the loss she went through. Owning things makes me feel safe. As I collect, I get a feeling of security and pleasure knowing I am recreating a place that no longer exists. When my mother married my father in Germany, he designed and built her a beautiful home, but they only lived there for a few years, because he got a job in Teheran. Again, my mother -and all of us- were transplanted to a completely different culture. I have moved fourteen times in my life, so I too have few roots.
Every object that I collect has a story. The journey I took to find it, the person I met who made it, our conversations, our connection; all of it is present in the object. Collecting is the way in which I connect and relate to the world around me. It is how I learnt Spanish. Visiting markets is how I get to know a culture, the food, the language, the stories each person shares. I am very curious; I could have been a journalist.
What is your relationship with the people who make the object you are purchasing?
An important aspect of my interest in collecting is that I genuinely care about the artisans I meet. I find that people who work with their hands have a special sensibility and joy. I know they are grateful to see how much I appreciate their work, it is an experience they do not have every day. When I meet them, I want to learn everything I can about their craft, why they chose certain colors, how the piece they are making is worn, and what it means to them.
I once visited a school near San Luis Potosí, in a town called Santa Maria, where they make rebozos. It was a Saturday, and as I walked past empty classrooms filled with afternoon light, I reached the last room and found a young man who was making a rebozo on a wooden loom. He was working in silence, surrounded by white walls, concentrated, as if in meditation. I approached him and asked about his work. As he spoke, I could see he was happy that I was interested, because he cared about his work and had few occasions to talk about it. He said most people thought he made hammocks. I treasure moments like these.
Is there a limit in the price you are willing to pay for something you love?
The price has to be in relation to the quality of a piece. I do have limits, but sometimes it will be worth paying more for a piece than I had foreseen. The limits I have on spending make me look more closely. The search is important, not just walking into a store and buying everything I want, which can be boring. This search connects me with the world.
The first time you saw my work, what made you stop?
It is a moment I remember, and a sensation I rarely have. You know I love visiting markets -and I rarely say this- but your jewelry really stood out. It is difficult to see pieces of such quality in terms of design. Your jewelry transmits something that is hard to find: your history, your artistic background; it is a style that has a lot to do with drawings, and graphic design.
The harmony between shapes, proportion, texture, light and dark are like that of a good drawing. Your work is alive; nothing seems traced with a ruler. I love that you are playing with the same basic shapes: a circle, dots, lines, and that is how you are creative. Your pieces are pure and authentic; they have handschrift, the mark of your hand. I also love that your jewelry goes with every type of clothing and occasion; it is timeless and lasts a lifetime.
I look for quality in design. I look for proportion, and I notice what materials are used. If it is a textile, I appreciate harmony in color, fabric and texture. I will always value creativity over price, or over the fact that I will wear a piece.
It has taken me years to develop a certain taste, and for my eye to distinguish a quality piece. It required training in the wider sense: I grew up in a home filled with beautiful objects, because both my parents studied visual arts. I loved going with them to museums and getting lost in a painting. I also drew and painted from an early age, and in college, I studied Art History. When I find colors that work together, I get enormous pleasure. For me, it is like listening to a great piece of music.
When did you begin collecting?
At a certain point in my life, it was no longer enough for me to see a beautiful object in a museum. I wanted to own it and live with it, even if I didn't necessarily use it. I think I began collecting when I was young and somebody gave me a large letterpress drawer (setzkasten), which I hung on the wall. I began placing small objects that I collected in each section: a stone, a ring, a piece of wood, a drawing. I was twelve years old. I am a visual being. For me, it is very important to be surrounded by beautiful objects. I am affected by visual disharmony, even more that I am by air pollution. It makes me feel uneasy.
What do you feel when you purchase a piece?
I think that when I select something I am attracted to, I connect to a need that came from my mother. She had a happy childhood in Poland, in a town called Oberschlesien Schwarzwaldau (a black place in a dark forest). When the Second World War ended, the Russians occupied her town and she and her family had to flee. They were only able to take a few belongings, and my mother never recovered from the shock. She and her family moved to Germany, and she became a typical refugee: she lost her home, her country, her language, and her self-esteem because of it.
I was my mother's first child, and I had such a deep empathy towards her, that I've often dreamt about the loss she went through. Owning things makes me feel safe. As I collect, I get a feeling of security and pleasure knowing I am recreating a place that no longer exists. When my mother married my father in Germany, he designed and built her a beautiful home, but they only lived there for a few years, because he got a job in Teheran. Again, my mother -and all of us- were transplanted to a completely different culture. I have moved fourteen times in my life, so I too have few roots.
Every object that I collect has a story. The journey I took to find it, the person I met who made it, our conversations, our connection; all of it is present in the object. Collecting is the way in which I connect and relate to the world around me. It is how I learnt Spanish. Visiting markets is how I get to know a culture, the food, the language, the stories each person shares. I am very curious; I could have been a journalist.
What is your relationship with the people who make the object you are purchasing?
An important aspect of my interest in collecting is that I genuinely care about the artisans I meet. I find that people who work with their hands have a special sensibility and joy. I know they are grateful to see how much I appreciate their work, it is an experience they do not have every day. When I meet them, I want to learn everything I can about their craft, why they chose certain colors, how the piece they are making is worn, and what it means to them.
I once visited a school near San Luis Potosí, in a town called Santa Maria, where they make rebozos. It was a Saturday, and as I walked past empty classrooms filled with afternoon light, I reached the last room and found a young man who was making a rebozo on a wooden loom. He was working in silence, surrounded by white walls, concentrated, as if in meditation. I approached him and asked about his work. As he spoke, I could see he was happy that I was interested, because he cared about his work and had few occasions to talk about it. He said most people thought he made hammocks. I treasure moments like these.
Is there a limit in the price you are willing to pay for something you love?
The price has to be in relation to the quality of a piece. I do have limits, but sometimes it will be worth paying more for a piece than I had foreseen. The limits I have on spending make me look more closely. The search is important, not just walking into a store and buying everything I want, which can be boring. This search connects me with the world.
The first time you saw my work, what made you stop?
It is a moment I remember, and a sensation I rarely have. You know I love visiting markets -and I rarely say this- but your jewelry really stood out. It is difficult to see pieces of such quality in terms of design. Your jewelry transmits something that is hard to find: your history, your artistic background; it is a style that has a lot to do with drawings, and graphic design.
The harmony between shapes, proportion, texture, light and dark are like that of a good drawing. Your work is alive; nothing seems traced with a ruler. I love that you are playing with the same basic shapes: a circle, dots, lines, and that is how you are creative. Your pieces are pure and authentic; they have handschrift, the mark of your hand. I also love that your jewelry goes with every type of clothing and occasion; it is timeless and lasts a lifetime.
