Maria Carra Rose’s alchemical romance

When I was a kid, I kept some little talisman with me constantly—a stone, a figurine, occasionally one of my Barbie’s heads (R.I.P.)–to pull out and fiddle with when I was bored. The only prerequisites for this item were that it fit in my pocket and felt good in my hands. Encountering metalsmith Maria Carra Rose’s work brought back that sensory urge and put it into a meaningful, grown-up context: picture tiny silver boxes with puffy, soft leather faces (old gloves!) or bits of a re-purposed fur coat protruding out of one side, a heavy silver amulet partially concealing little secrets like a peach pit’s red, rough exterior, a smooth metal case of free-moving twigs that roll around under your fingers. “Holding it in your hand, having it interact with you, feel comfortable -those things are important to me,” Carra notes. Oh, she’s good. And her metals and materials are totally environmentally and sociopolitically conscious; she’s aware of how her silver’s getting mined, and she incorporates all kinds of recycled and found goodness into her work.

Her label, Face Metal Design (check it out at facemetaldesign.com), encompasses both her work with art objects and with the wearable art that she’s commissioned to make more and more frequently. These pieces go way beyond your typical custom jewelry experience; she gets to know her clients and their pleasures in an effort to make something distinctly personal. And, of course, she never makes the same thing twice. VCU’s craft department helped stoke her fire for making and creating, and she pins local artist Jim Meyer and writer Rachel Carson as influences, her face brightening as she remembers reading Carson’s “Silent Spring”. Carra’s eco-consciousness doesn’t just lurk behind the scenes—it extends through the meaning of her work, finding expression in an intricately framed necklace made with a hunter acquaintance’s pheasant feathers, or skin-like membranes stretched over steel piping. She explains, “Whole species are dying. It’s not like we can make new birds… these pieces of art aren’t real birds, they’re hollow, empty. I want to bring awareness to the fact that we’re living in a linear pattern, things are finite. What we are doing has consequences.”

Carra’s place in the Richmond art scene is growing. “I love living and working in this city. It’s so supportive as an art community… really enveloping.” Surrounding her are multi-faceted artists and craftspeople—i.e. boyfriend Spencer Hansen of Team 8 Press—so she started hosting an open-forum style critique session at her house each week, helping to feed others’ creative drive and exchange information and energy about art. “You lose a lot when you leave the school setting—most of all, the discussion forum,” she says. So…she made her own. She’s a motivated lady. You can find her work at Quirk Gallery, Fan Frame (thanks to her dear friend and inspiration, Jo Cudlip), and soon, Gallery 5, though if you end up falling in love with what she does, you’ll want to take her up on one of her happy-to-make-it-with-you commission projects. Be ready to bare a little bit of your soul.
 
—Bird Cox