Back in those city days, I didn't have a phone. I didn't have a television. My car broke down. I worked as a waitress in the cafe on the corner. I had little in the way of possessions. My kitchenette consisted of one pot, one plate, one bowl and some cutlery. I had a coffee cup and a dorm-style fridge which was empty most of the time. I ate boxed lentils with rice and Subway and sometimes a bean burger at the cafe.
I didn't have a savings account or an idea of what I was going to do with the rest of my life.
I did have an idea about making a brochure of the jewellery I made. I thought I could sell to shops or find a rep if I had 'promotional material'.
But, I didn't have a camera.
I was stumped until the day I passed the copy shop.
Back at the apartment/closet I gathered up everything I had made and dumped it into a small box. I counted out my tips from the day before.
The line in the shop was long. As I stood there holding the box I realised I probably looked out of place. Everyone was engaged in 'normal' photocopying: documents, letters, flyers. When it was my turn, I placed the box on the counter. The copy-guy looked at me and then into the box.
"I'd like some photocopies please," I said hopefully.
"Cool," he responded.
He placed the earrings and necklaces on the glass of the copier. Every so often, he'd stop to rearrange them saying, "I want this to look good".
I was there for over an hour. People came and went; some were curious, some annoyed at all the attention I was getting.
In the end, I got my 'photos', a whole slew of them. I never did make that brochure but they did come in handy for posters and reference. I've since cut them up and made collages.
Now I have a copier of my own. I have this idea for an installation...
Telling stories and making jewellery since the days of big hair and eyeliner.