My little lamp is complete except for the bead fringe and I feel a little stymied. Shall I fringe on the edge which is irregular but not random or shall I find a level somewhere up inside the lamp to hang the beads from?
First thoughts: to sew the strings of beads to a cloth bias tape and glue it to the inside of the lamp. After some more thought, that method felt a little unstable at best and very cheesy at worst.
Looking around at bead fringe on all kinds of lamps, the one thing that struck me as a consistent artistic error is really long length of fringe in relation to whatever size lamp it happened to be hanging from. Many lamps would have been much prettier if the fringe length was proportional to the lamp, no matter what method was employed to attach it. Too bad I didn’t also discover a consistently used method (tried and true or at least feeling right) of attaching the beads. My beads will be “strung” on brass head pins needing to be hung from metal ring-like structures.
Little lamp gets short fringe, but, do I want the fringe to follow the irregular edge? Short fringe will emphasize the irregularity (bringing nothing cool to the party) unless each string of beads is a different length to (ideally) meet on a single plane. Who ever said art was supposed to be easy?
The other option, longer strings of beads all the same length coming from somewhere up inside the lamp meeting on the same plane. Sounds simple, however, more beads needed and some sort of line casting a shadow from behind the glass (hmmm), sounding more like trying to hide a mess to me.
Showing rather than hiding details feels cleaner. To me, the details are, in and of themselves, beautiful. I’m a fan of steampunk – give me the inner workings. So, follow the irregular lamp edge it is!
Now, shall I solder jump rings to the edge wire, twist the edge wire into a series of “rings,” or solder raw brass chain to the edge, replacing the wire, and use the chain links as the rings from which each string of beads will hang?
Wasn’t that long ago when I thought to myself, “Wow, I am so not the impatient girl I had been in my twenties.” — thanks in very large part to the rigorous snail’s pace of stained glass construction and being a fool (in the Tarot sense of “fool,” of course) among fools for a long life. Patience is not something you need to strive toward, it is inevitable. Creativity is, simply, problem solving (with a fancy name) and the clever management of patience. I’m feeling a little strain. I take a deep breath . . .
Yet, here it is — a test of my patience? Okaaay. It’s actually a bit of a thrill (but, sort of annoying like being touched on the shoulder to dance when you’ve got comfortable on the wall) to feel tested. I could just ignore it. Do I really need a deeper level of patience? The universe thinks I do or it wouldn’t be asking me to dance. Right?
Whatever method I use, I must be willing to stop and, patiently, go back — soooo, I will try the easiest to undo first. Raw brass chain on the irregular edge; each (of 84) string of beads a custom length using small, clear glass beads for length adjustment at the top of each string with all (did I already say,”84?”) strings meeting on a level plane. I will come back with a photo of success and a deeper level of patience, plans for a new tack and a deeper level of patience, or just a deeper level of patience.