K: Sometimes I wish I was a painter! I was supposed to go into some kind of television production, but having a father who was a goldsmith—a Spanish goldsmith, too, so different techniques than were being taught in the UK—I decided to rebel against what was expected and asked to do a formal apprenticeship at a time when the skills were being lost from the UK. So that’s how I ended up doing my job, never knowing if I’d take to it or not.
My dad threw me in at the deep end and gave me a piece of antique jewellery to copy. Now, my work is in wax, I’m a master pattern maker and use the lost wax-carving process. It’s one of the oldest techniques of making jewellery, and I took to it straightaway. My dad couldn’t believe that I had managed to copy this piece of jewellery, as I wasn’t interested before then. I absolutely loved it, and he couldn’t believe there was this latent talent!
As well as this apprenticeship, which took between five and eight years, he said, “Develop your own style.” I loved the work of Lalique; it was the closest thing I’d found that touched on how I felt about nature spirits. He and his workers had really tapped into something, at that point, with art nouveau. Also, Mucha designed the most amazing jewellery…there was this time in history when nature was so revered, and I really got that. I also started to get really interested in folklore.
I’m not brilliant at drawing or painting, I just can’t visualise in two dimensions, and this sculptural technique meant that I could sculpt my visions into jewellery. And these would end up facilitating other people’s paths, other people’s spiritual growth, as they would always ask questions about the symbols in the work. And at the end of the day, I’m learning all the time.
“Myth of the Magpie” (top left) and “Let Me
Sing You a Tale of True Love” by Kelly Martinez
How close do you think you’ve got in your work to your experiences of Faery?
M: The tree spirits—it’s all very personal, but to me that was spot-on. Whether or not that would be spot-on for the next man or woman, I don’t know or care, for that matter. I wasn’t doing it for anybody apart from them—and me.
K: The elements are a huge part of what I do. When you look at the history of metal smithing, we could make objects that would destroy or create that were objects of power. And I am talking as a jewellery smith, not a blacksmith. Look at an object of power, the magic that it has in it. We take a metal that is from the earth, we use fire to melt it, air to give strength to the fire, then we quench it afterwards with water. You can lose yourself in that process, there’s a lot of magic in those items. You are working directly with the elements, you’re working with the gods, goddesses, and the elementals.
For more information, visit www.marcpotts.com
and www.kellymartinez.co.uk.
Linda Ravenscroft
Linda Ravenscroft is a much-beloved member of the Faery community, with her exceptionally finely detailed Faery art and distinctive art nouveau style. Her published works include The Mystic Faery Tarot (with Barbara Moore) and How to Draw and Paint Fairies, and her art may also be found worldwide on greetings cards and prints. She kindly spared some time at the Three Wishes Faery Fest in Cornwall to answer some questions about her work.
Linda Ravenscroft in her studio
When did you start drawing faeries and why?
I never actually started to draw faeries ever. It wasn’t my intention! I’ve always just drawn stuff for me. When I was little I was bullied at school, so I used to go home and draw. You don’t tell people that you’re being picked on, but I used to go home and just go to my special place. I suppose it was like a fairyland, but it was where I was safe and beautiful, a princess with a handsome prince, you name it! It was fantasy, it was fabulous…a place for me.
I’ve always loved painting fantasy goddesses and always loved nature, so that started to come into my work. You see trees as living things, and then you start adding faces and bodies to them, and before I knew it I’d done a dryad and I didn’t even know it! The faeries found me, I didn’t find them, and I didn’t go out to paint them—they’ve always been there, and they have to come out at the right time.
I’ve never even seen a real faerie, but I don’t need to because they just automatically come out. People can interpret them anyway they like, but what really excites me is that people will pick out the image they really need in their lives. A lot of my paintings are personal, about things that are happening to me and around me. The funny thing is people pick up on it as well, and it’s so magical when someone knows what a piece is about before you’ve even told them. They’re not just pretty faeries, it’s a lot deeper and hopefully more inspirational. It’s something I want to share desperately with people. And it’s a good message.
I don’t do dark, I really don’t. I’ve never been in a really black space, actually, when I’ve wanted to paint something dark. What I truly want is to make people feel better. There’s too much darkness in the world as it is, and we need to be lifted more. Things are getting really low at the moment, and we need to balance it. To give someone a hopeful image—it must make them feel better to know there are beautiful things out
