ANDREA SVITÁKOVÁ
Metal is born in great depths, just like beauty. There, in the darkness and in the depths, as yet unseparated, unnamed and so obscure that it can become anything, everything begins. Even the silver there is still black, untrodden.
There I grope, exploring, tasting with my fingertips, and I know exactly when I have hit the source, the beginning, the metallic vein that will bring me to the surface and give my fingers a language to express...beauty. The shape that will bring it to light and awaken it.
I believe that inspiration, creativity and the ability to create in general is a gift and a reward for what we have been through, what we have experienced. That the pains and losses we have had to mourn and accept, as well as the beauty we have encountered in our journey, are our ticket into those corners of our selves that would otherwise remain inaccessible to us, and anyone who has ever dwelled in them and managed not to be consumed by them knows that it is possible to come out cleaner, deeper, and more able to give content to our creations that would have seemed impossible at first. I know what I'm talking about. I've been in those places and come out of them, more confident and more powerful.
Just as I have remade myself, I melt metal, and create beauty with all my might, simply because that is what I, you and the world need. Beauty that speaks to us and doesn't turn a blind eye to what it came from.
My jewelry has a consistent signature, transcends form and always contains some element of asymmetry. Some are dominated by chaos, which I like to bring order to, others by order, which I use to channel too much chaos. They describe the lines of the inner space from which I enter the creation. On days when I know it's worth it, I go to the workshop. I melt, bend, separate and join...sometimes thoughtfully, purposefully, sometimes intuitively, guided by what transcends me. Again, I melt, bend, separate and join. A jewel is created.
It glimmers dimly, flickering like a wandering light at the end but also at the beginning of a journey. In its glow there is always something of me, of what I have walked and where I am. But in it, there is already the one who will wear it. Their story. Their journey. All is again unseparated and can begin again.
