The Addiction

Posted by Rebecca Stone on March 16, 2010
Mar 162010

Holy cow! I guess I’ve never really thought about stones or rocks in quite this way. I’m not particularly the blinded-by-science type, but I do recall that back in junior college, my favorite science-type class was geology.  In fact, one of my cherished memories from that period was of a group of us students going on a rain-soaked, beer-fueled field trip up the Columbia River Gorge, in search of basalt formations and the like. But, I must say, as fascinating as basalt is, it never made me break out in a sweat the way I do when I’m surrounded by semiprecious and precious stones.

Rocks on the rocks... just one more addiction?

Rocks on the rocks... just one more addiction?

It all began with my layoff as an editor and writer on a boating magazine. Seems like the next day I awoke from a daze in the jewelry section at Michael’s Craft Store, staring at pretty rocks on a string and something called “Findings.” I remember thinking to myself, “Why not?” I bought a book and some basic supplies, excited for the chance to learn something new. Since then my craving for stones that I can transform into jewelry has grown into an addiction that could rival drinking and gambling. Heck, it’s downright insatiable. I can’t recall ever feeling this way about buying shoes or underwear.

I don’t think this is unusual among jewelry designers and rock hounds in general. While drooling over a strand of Moss Agate at Michael’s the other day, I overheard a girl say, “Look, Mom, we’re in your section!” Her mother muttered as she swept by the colored stones and crystals, “Nope, I’m going cold turkey.” It looked like it was all she could do to keep from breaking into a run to outpace her passion run amok.

I empathized. Lately, I’ve been trying to pick routes that steer clear of my growing list of bead shop stops, just so I can space my expenditures into manageable chunks. When I do succumb to a visit, I try to limit my purchases to one project at a time. This is tough to do. New stones beckon me like sea sirens lured sailors to their rocky shores — and their ultimate demise. While my ship is not in danger (I have an old wooden trawler that currently serves as my floating art studio, and last I looked, she was moored safely in her slip), my pocketbook is often perilously close to running aground.

Los Angeles is full of enticements, bead and stone shopping-wise. And I appear to be on course to discover every single shop and show that appears on my radar screen. But, while possible financial catastrophe lurks behind every sparkling, colored strand that dangles like a 24-carat carrot from a shop wall or lies twisted on a show table, so does a wealth of lessons. The more I run my fingers over stones and absorb their beauty, some blatant and some subtle, the more I learn. And I am hungry to learn.

So many shops… and for once I have time. I hope you’ll come along with me on the adventure — and chime in about your own.

© 2011 Inclusions Suffusion theme by Sayontan Sinha