Julia deVille's studio
While I generally buy things that have a silly bent, I’m still attracted to objects that resonate with thoughtful beauty. Once again there are many people making work that speaks to this side of me, but there are two makers in Melbourne whom I particularly admire.
I saw them both at Craft Victoria, one after the other, a year ago. I’d already seen a few pieces of Iggy and Lou Lou jewellery, by ceramicist Irene Grishin-Selzer, around town and liked it, but at her show I was mesmerised: porcelain skulls were painted with butterflies and roses or covered with tiny heart-shaped holes, while on the walls brooding, deflated teddies stared at the ground, their gold hearts spilling from their chests. It was both sad and striking beautiful; never before had I found it so hard to leave an exhibition.
A few days later I went back for the show of Julia deVille and I felt the exact same way, only amplified. Julia is both a jeweller and a taxidermist, and all around the room were remnants of the once living: skulls covered with glitter and velvet, lifelike birds sitting on clocks and cigar cases, cats and rats spread out as rugs. I would have thought a show like this would repel me, but instead I felt an intimate, powerful connection to the work, and it surprised me. Like with Irene’s skulls, it took effort to look away.
I told this to Julia when I went to see her at her studio a few weeks ago and she smiled meaningfully. “I often get that reaction from people,” she told me, her eyes trailing across the studio. As we sat she told me the about the periods of history that have influenced her work, times when people accepted death, and how this has affected her own views on life. All the time she talked I became more aware of why I had felt so strongly towards her work: it is not about death at all but a celebration of life, and a reminder to live each moment.
Julia’s work is diverse, covering jewellery, objects, garments, shoes and even urns, and this illustrates what I love about craft: it can be anything. It can be art on a wall or something to wear; it can pin your hair up or hold your cup of tea. Craft is the jack-of-all-trades of the creative world, bridging the gap between art and fashion, private and public. It can be useful or sedentary or something in between. It can be anything you want.
This is one reason I find craft more enjoyable than traditional art – it has the capacity to do something. It has purpose, and can change art from a passive form into something that is interactive and fun. Craft brings art into the everyday, and can bring joy to the most mundane of tasks.
One company that has been excelling at this principle for a while now is Third Drawer Down, which prints artworks onto tea towels, plates, mugs, hankies, pillowcases and, recently, duvets, meaning you can literally snuggle with your art. I’ve bought several of their tea towels, and even though I can never bring myself to actually dry dishes with them (they’re just too pretty) I love that I could if I wanted to.
Third Drawer Down’s originality is such that they have collaborated with some of the world’s finest contemporary art galleries, including the Tate Modern in London and the Museum of Modern Art in New York. In these projects they work with the artist and gallery to create limited edition art souvenirs that can be used or, like my tea towels, simply admired. With these objects, like the best things in craft, the line between art and function is pleasantly blurred.
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