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.


and we were sitting in the sun, me and my goldsmithery partner, discussing things goldsmitheresques, and she was trying to convince me to work for Yet Another Too Short Deadline, and was throwing ideas and things-to-do and improvised schedules and so on; and at the fifthteenth thing she ask me to do I told her But you're putting too much pressure on me, please stop it; and she replied But we all know you work much better when under pressure.
Shit: I'm undercover no more.
So here we are, running again against metal's properties: final pictures due the 30th.

[uh, and by the way: this is my goldsmithery partner: Patricia Cruz.

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