Scenes from nature brought to life
Inspired by the Cornish countryside, artist and jeweller Esther Smith creates charming scenes with moving parts
In a tiny studio in Cornwall, artist Esther Smith is at work on her latest metal sculpture. A rack in the room holds an assortment of pliers, punches and other tools. On the wall are coils of wire and an array of postcards and pictures, including one of a blue tit drawn by her grandfather. However, the studio is dominated by a wooden jeweller’s bench, which sits under a window overlooking the garden with its ancient oak tree that protects the house. Nature is bursting into life, and Esther’s view from the window is a colourful one. Wildflowers, such as primroses, fill the banks around the garden, and bluebells nod their heads. Daffodils, tulips, ceonothus and magnolias are all in bloom, and the oak tree is coming into leaf. “I like having my own little space,” she says. “In the spring and summer, I can sit here looking at the garden and listen to the birds. We always have plenty of blue tits, great tits, coal tits, robins, dunnocks and sparrows. We also have a tiny wren that nests right by the kitchen door.” Esther lives and works in Mylor Bridge, a sheltered village tucked away up a small creek on the south Cornish coast. She makes jewellery, small-scale sculpture and animated pieces, or automata, which feature moving parts. Her metalwork is full of naive charm and quirky detail, and the majority of it includes woodland animals and birds arranged around a single tree. Much of her inspiration comes from the surrounding countryside, particularly the magnificent 200-year-old oak in her garden, which she is very proud of. A keen nature lover, Esther frequently visits nearby Enys Wood. “There are lots of owls there, and if you go in the evening, you can hear them and maybe see a fox,” she says. She sometimes stops to sketch, as she likes to capture specific experiences in her work. One of these was an enormous fox, seen on a Christmas Day walk. “This beautiful, bright orange animal running across the field on a grey, drab day made that Christmas memorable for me.” The memory is captured in one of her animated pieces, worked with a fox leaping
“But it is a sort of April-weather life that we lead in this world. A little sunshine is generally the prelude to a storm” William Cowper, Letters of William Cowper
through grass beneath another oak tree. Esther has also added an owl swooping round the branches as an extra detail. “My work is a marriage of two of my favourite things: making and wildlife.” she says. Esther comes from an artistic family. Her mother was a potter and her grandfather a wildlife illustrator, and Esther always knew she wanted to learn a skill. She settled on jewellery, as it met her preferred criteria. “I like things that are quite intimate and that I can hold in my hand,” she says. She completed a BA in silversmithing and jewellery at Birmingham School of Jewellery, following an art foundation course at Edinburgh College of Art.
Silhouettes in motion
Another important factor pulling her towards jewellery was a wish to work in metal. This is a material which holds a particular fascination for Esther because of its history and the way it has been recycled over the ages. “Metal has a provenance that other materials just don’t have,” she says. “We could be wearing gold now that was Aztec originally: it
“The moving moon went up the sky, and nowhere did abide. Softly she was going up, and a star or two beside” Samuel Taylor Coleridge, ‘The Rime of the Ancient Mariner’
doesn’t disappear, it just changes form. It’s also great to work with, as it’s so pliable and malleable. If you make a mistake, the metal can be scrapped and reused without any wastage.” After she graduated, Esther practised as a jeweller in Birmingham for several years before moving to Cornwall in 2001. Family life and a teaching job at Falmouth School of Art left little time for jewellery. However, the move five years ago to her current house with its garden studio, combined with redundancy, gave her renewed motivation. Esther resumed her jewellery making but, this time, she also decided to branch out into automata. The decision was inspired in part by a long-term interest in the subject and by seeing the work of local makers, such as Paul Spooner and Fi Henshall. The final impetus was helping her daughter make a working paper boat automaton for a project. “This process helped me understand how basic automata work and got me thinking that I could combine it with my jewellery making skills. Most contemporary automata I have seen are made in wood, and it was only when I made the mental leap to use metal instead that I was spurred on to give it a go.” Esther decided to teach herself how to make these intriguing objects, which are part-toy, part-sculpture. She had experimented with sculptures as a student and had the smithing skills to create static objects, but learning how to design the mechanisms required to make the individual parts move was a considerable challenge. She taught herself through trial and error with the help of reference books, often trying out the different methods in paper first. It was a challenge she relished, as it gave her the chance to include narrative in her work. “Branching out into automata has given me great scope to express my love of stories,” she says. This stems from her Scottish childhood and early memories of folk songs and folk tales, as well as the books she read. “I was always keen on stories and fairy tales,” she adds.
Esther begins each of her automata with a clear idea in her head about what she wants to create. “My brain works visually, and the original idea is often spontaneous. Then it’s a case of working out the mechanism on paper,” she explains. She sketches out simple designs, but often there is a certain amount of adjustment during the actual making process, to make sure the mechanisms work correctly. Once she is ready, Esther outlines the individual motifs on sheet metal, using paper templates. She primarily works with copper, but also silver, brass and reclaimed tin. She then cuts the shapes out by hand with tin snips or her jeweller’s fretsaw.
Accents of colour
With her Fox and Owl piece, the animals are both cut out of copper. The fox is given an extra glow of warm colour by using copper which has been overheated with a blow torch and immediately quenched in cold water. “Copper is a magical material, as when it’s heated, you get these lovely colours,” says Esther. She has also added a tiny piece of silver leaf to the fox’s bushy tail to create a little highlight of shine. This is applied using size glue and the metal leaf then pressed into place. It is left to dry before being carefully finished off with a soft brush to ensure it adheres correctly. The grass and tree are also made from copper. Esther sources it from a local steel fabricator. “He uses the copper to cut a series of discs and the leftover metal is great for trees,” she says. Working with metal means that Esther has a limited colour palette to play with, but she says she likes that, as it is less distracting to the story she is telling with each piece. Some variations in colour can be achieved by treating it with liquid copper nitrate, which can give the metal a turquoise patina. This is painted onto the surface and the liquid content burned off with a naked flame to achieve the subtle green-blue sheen which Esther likes to use for grass and leaves. Other hints of colour can be created by using reclaimed metals. Esther uses these for details such as the cheerful checked headscarf worn by her Cat Woman or a pair of socks hanging on a washing line. When she has assembled all the individual components, Esther has to join them together. She solders smaller pieces, such as leaves, onto the branches of the trees, but she will pin larger pieces together. They are then mounted onto the frame, which incorporates the movement mechanism, such as a
“Those green-robed senators of mighty woods, Tall oaks, branch-charmed by the earnest stars, Dream, and so dream all night without a stir” John Keats, ‘Hyperion’
crank or axle. The frame is made out of sheets of copper, which are bent into shape using pliers, formers and a vice. She may need to make some adjustments to the mechanism to ensure that the parts which are meant to move actually work. Sometimes, the weights might have to be altered or kinks in the wire that prevent the cranks from turning smoothly may have to be ironed out. “I feel quite relieved when the mechanisms do work, as well as a lot of satisfaction,” she says.
Gentle humour
Once everything is working successfully, the artwork is mounted onto a base. Fittingly, the Fox and Owl piece sits on a slice of coppiced oak, complete with traces of lichen from Enys Wood. The finished automaton is 11in (28cm) high and will have taken Esther at least a day to complete. Some of her pieces are labelled with their titles spelled out on brass plaques, in a style deliberately reminiscent of Victorian cabinets. Esther heats the brass to anneal, or soften it, so it is easier to work, then punches the letter stamps into the metal. Her titles are full of gentle humour. A piece made up of a row of flowers is named Tiptoe Through the Tulips, while Lundy Mainly Fair Good is the title of an automaton inspired by the Shipping News. “My automata are a little piece of light-heartedness in this increasingly scary world,” she says. Further additions to her portfolio are her static sculptures or dioramas. These are miniature scenes, such as One Tree Hill, which depicts her favourite oak tree, with wildflowers and a hare beneath it. The sculpture is placed inside a bell jar, another reference to Victorian natural history collections. “I am trying to catch a moment in nature which I am aware is under threat. The bell jar is about preserving something,” she explains. “I want my work to remind people of the joy of being alongside nature.” Works such as the Fox and Owl, with its charmingly depicted animals moving gently through a landscape, do just that. CONTACT www.esthersmith.co.uk