In this interview, Thomas shares his history, his discovery of art, and the evolution of his life and work.

H.G. Has art been a part of your life since childhood?

T.T. I was deeply drawn to the natural world as a child and collected rocks, leaves, and berries—and was fascinated with all things wild. I opened my senses in the woods and along the bayous of Louisiana. This was a time for open communion with nature in which shapes, textures, patterns, and colors penetrated deep into my consciousness. I became grounded in nature and found “raw materials” for dreams. I placed all of my finds on a table and repositioned them often and with reverence. This collection took on kind of a sacred quality and served as some kind of natural shrine. My father added to the magic by strategically planting objects—from pure white sand dollars to perfect arrowheads—without my knowledge for me to find. In fact, I didn’t know that these things had been planted until fairly recently, and I jokingly blame my father for my obsession with found objects. I also dabbled in lapidary as a child and mixed my creations in with the found objects.

H.G. Did your love of nature and your interest in lapidary stay with you?

T.T. No, soon athletic trophies started taking over the table. A competitive spirit emerged within me, and I drifted further away from being sensitive and creative until I had a motorcycle accident that left me with two broken arms. This humbling experience pushed me into a more introspective and philosophical place. I started reading and writing about my thoughts and, although creative writing and dreams appealed to me, I was stuck in the process of intellectualizing everything. My thinking was so linear and my personality was so predictable that I felt trapped—and a lot of my formal education reinforced the walls around me.

I studied physical geography in university, as I was interested in landforms and natural processes as well as the relationship between humans and the natural world from a cultural, psychological and spatial perspective. After graduating from Louisiana State University in 1992 with a bachelor of science in geography, I became a seasonal park ranger. I began interpreting the natural world though journaling—a mix of categorizing my observations and creative writing. I continued these journals as a Peace Corps Volunteer in West Africa. I developed an interest in village crafts—everything was handcrafted and made with the simplest of tools. I was just wandering through Africa and Asia observing and learning meditation and something happened—I thought that I was going crazy. My order of things could not be understood, and I grew tired of the way I was. The answer was to allow myself to be free—to allow myself to be mystified by what I saw. I started dreaming and fantasizing, and it was as if all of the things that I neglected rose to the surface and my creative well was overflowing. I started to be more sensitive and caring and loving.

H.G. Where did this new path of awareness lead you?

T.T. I returned to the United States and took a job as an educational coordinator focused on experiential education, which is learning by doing. The students had so much creative energy, and I started realizing the importance of creative expression. It seemed as though everyone was just searching for that right vehicle to express themselves. For most of them, it was singing or dancing—for me it was something related to working with nature in an artistic fashion. I spent some time in meditation—and memories of a walk on a foggy beach north of San Francisco became very clear. I became sensitive to the material washing ashore—to the broken shells with heavy ridges, the emerald green from an old piece of glass that was flung into the ocean as litter a long time ago, the speckled granite pebbles that are so soft and muted. I was drawn to these textures, colors, and shapes that could not be duplicated—that were too subtle to duplicate—these raw, natural, found objects. I knew these were the materials I would use for my expression.

H.G. After this epiphany, how did you translate what you discovered about yourself into your art?

T.T. I started searching the beaches for raw materials and taking workshops in jewelry making. I was drawn much more to the creative designing than the technical processes, but I found that this created a nice balance for my mind. I first emphasized Precious Metal Clay, as it required less technical knowledge and was very easy to work with—I felt like a kid playing with Play-doh®—and the pieces were pure silver in the end after firing. It seemed almost like a shortcut, but it was a little difficult to incorporate found objects outside of just pushing the clay into the textures of bark.

H.G. Were you still just experimenting, or did you market this work?

T.T. I started selling my pieces at local arts and crafts shows, while I developed ways to incorporate more found objects into my jewelry. The Precious Metal Clay pieces were selling well, but I came to kind of a plateau with that material. I started learning how to form a bezel around irregularly shaped objects and hired a friend to help me with assembly and polishing tasks. I made the big jump after about a year of building inventory, and have been focused exclusively on found objects for the last couple of years.

H.G. And are you comfortable with what you are doing now?

T.T. Yes, very much. I have evolved as a person through this form of expression. I am now working so directly and intimately with material that is full of meaning and message. I have learned how to take risks in style and design. Not everyone is going to like what I make, but I stay positive and true to my feelings and share this with my potential customers with enthusiasm. Production and sales are two very different aspects of what I do, but I am enjoying both of these, although at times I fall out of balance. I have learned how to go deeply into a creative mode and then make a smooth transition into a more social mode. Most people honor my ways and what I make, and I try to share my work with them in the most sincere way possible.

H.G. You have made the commitment to your art, am I right?

T.T. I earn a living by making jewelry out of found objects and really enjoy what I do. The business of this is something totally different from the art, but it is necessary for me to integrate everything. This might sound really basic and elementary, but selling my pieces makes it possible for me to be more creative so I connect the two with the creative and fulfilling aspect of sharing these pieces with my potential customers. The business side of things can easily overwhelm the art and vice-versa, and I do find myself striving for more of a balance. To make my living at the business of my art I take on several positions: artist/designer/creator/technical silver smith/production, and sales/marketing/scheduling. I am now learning to delegate some responsibility to others that can help out with various stages of production, but I really want to maintain artistic integrity.

H.G. Tell us more about the jewelry itself—inspiration, motivation?

T.T. I make jewelry out of found objects from the coasts of California and Hawaii—beach pebbles, sea glass, shells, pottery, and scrap metals are bezel-set in sterling silver. Each piece is titled, etched, and signed on the back. The name of my line is Anything Found. I am not trying to replicate or even interpret nature in my work—rather I am simply framing and displaying little pieces of nature as symbols of our connection to the natural world. In the fast paced, high-tech world of today, many people become disconnected from the earth and its processes. They are mesmerized by the latest style of this or that created by machines and synthetic chemicals—the latest computer game, synthesized sounds, pictures, etc. I am not anti-technology, but I see such beauty in raw and unrefined nature and feel that it is important to share this. Most adults don’t even see the beach pebbles they walk over and become almost child-like when they figure out what my pieces are made of. A couple of months ago at a show, this formally dressed, serious looking man walked by and glanced at my table. He totally changed his mannerisms and cried out, “glassies”—referring to the sea-glass pieces that were on the table. He walked away wearing a very earthy sea-glass bracelet under his three-piece suit. Yes, that was very fulfilling.

T.T. I walk the beaches (naked when possible) in search of interesting material. I meditate and try not to over-analyze what I am trying to find or create. I have learned to spot what can be bezeled without too much manipulation—items that are fairly flat with nice rounded edges, staying away from deep concave curves. Most of the items that I find are bezeled in their natural state. It seems as though the ocean is gifting me so much of the time, so I like to show respect by only taking what I need in a very mindful way. I place all of my day’s collections in one bag and then wash and sort the pieces first by material, then by color, size and thickness.

T.T. I lay out this sorted material on glass tables and then I slowly slide these pieces around until an order is assumed. I am careful not to intellectualize the designing process, but I do keep in mind function and weight/wearability. I usually form multiple pieces at once and leave many pieces waiting for partner stones. I do all of my work in stages so I usually plan on a production size and then match bezel strips only after I have arranged and sorted all of the pieces—for example, I lay out five partner stones that will form a complete bracelet. I use 28- to 30-gauge bezel strips (sterling) for my bezels and base plates. I cut out the backs of most of my pieces so that most of the found objects can be seen and felt. The side bezels are formed around the stone, and the stone is then taken out before soldering. The base is then cut out and soldered to the side bezels. The bail or jump rings are soldered on, and then the stone is placed in the bezel. I close the bezel over the stone with a rocker motion tool. The sides of the bezels are beveled a tad bit, and the pieces are polished. I finish by signing and titling each piece and etching spiral-type designs on the backs.

T.T. I am using some new materials—mixing cuttings from shells in with the found objects. I sometimes acquire cracked or damaged specimen shells from shell shops and cut off the most dramatic parts of the shell for setting. My latest work involves the use of beach pebbles or river stones, sea glass and shells together in single pieces, such as linked bracelets or three-stone pendants.

H.G. You mentioned art fairs. Is this how you sell your work?

T.T. Yes, I mainly sell my pieces at juried arts and crafts shows in California—though I plan to expand and do more shows nationally. I do place some of my higher end pieces in galleries, but I am usually limited with respect to inventory and need to focus on my own display. I have found that I have developed a high amount of repeat business, so I may do fewer shows in the future and just emphasize on more quality art shows rather than quantity.

T.T. I have become very elemental in my ways. I am no longer the rigid, overly planned out technical perfectionist. There are obvious associations between my image/lifestyle/personality and what my pieces represent to most people. I guess my line of jewelry represents—at some level—a lifestyle based on environmental awareness and natural living. Perhaps I have an innate desire to be a part of nature—not to be so separate from the whole of everything. There is a personal statement associated with my pieces—both for me and my customers. One of the most important aspects of Anything Found is that very personal and individual connection. In our image-conscious society that embraces the mass produced and revels in the shiny, fancy, and expensive, the raw and natural can be appealing.

H.G. Do you think art has expanded or changed you?

T.T. I have learned how to express myself and to honor what I am expressing—to be true to myself and to my own creativity—to follow through with ideas and see where they lead. I am more secure with myself. I can now sing out loud regardless of criticism—although I try to sound good.