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.

lessons (maybe) learned

two other lessons were:

  • draw more (yes: againe), and 
  • don't plan: do.
then I obviously had a bad (goldsmithery speaking) evening at the studio, where I did wrong to a rectangular bezel three times in a row, and generally couldn't keep focus. So I threw smoke in my client's facebook eyes, distracting her with a blog-post about flowery head ornaments which I randomly found in the morning (here), and then committed myself to the weigths - squatting, deadlifting and lunging until a trembling, feeble dizzyness came around.
At home, I then ate everything.
[then I realized I did something good the same, as one half-assed try at a rolling mill curving of a square-sectioned wire almost single-handedly solved a construction problem: yai!]

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