and so, maybe: maybe metal hides some other way of Expression. Maybe: in seeing it move under the hammer blows, in colours that change at the heat of the fire; in the forcing of bends, or tips or blades inside it - or against it. In taking it out of the acid, matt - silvery. In polishing it with Love. In letting it standing out strong, and contrasting, against fabric and skin and hair: extending lines of force, pushing the beholder's eyes - or yours - deeper, Inside.
It's an Art by itself - even if "minor" and mistreated: and she needs affection. Yes - affection.
Hi!, I'm Davide. I try to be a metalsmith. My other vices was good prose, and is powerlifting.
Now scroll down, pliiz.

Something about cocktail rings, #1-3

Were these days of panic, chaos, no-sleep no-shower no-anything, and except my real-life job and a day long trip to Rome, everything more or less was working to this project: a theme based prize, where theme was food, wine, and their sensations. So I tryied a thing but time was short - as usual, if not worst - and I had to change in mid-flight, and choose something simpler. So here they are, the three cocktail rings [pun slightly intended]: the Bloody Mary Ring (1), the Manhattan Ring (2), the Margarita Ring (3).

They're sterling and glass, and they somewhat signify a tripartition of the day: in the morning 'till lunch you drink Bloody Mary - to cast away booze; from mid-afternoon 'till evening you sip Manhattan, suave and mysterious - and then in the night it's time for Margarita, and the small skull offers an hint of what will: of what you'll have to cure the next morning with, etcaetera.
They originally came in a cardboard box - handmade, lined with dark red canvas: but in the finally dialogues with my master, box was rejected. Tomorrow, a sneaky pic of the box itself.
A simplified version of them is on the way.
c ya.

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