Repurposed
vintage and vintage-inspired jewelry. Turning something old into
something new using pieces of the unwanted and broken.
Jennifer
Cerami Bogart is a self-taught artist who currently lives in New
Orleans. She works with various types of medium. Her creativity is
inspired and enlightened by her own life experiences, and she
appreciates details within art, nature, history, and culture. She
joyfully creates each piece like putting together a jig-saw puzzle, and
creating something into dainty, pleasing, and colorful works of art.
This one I call, Agnes: The year
is 1952, summertime. The white-gloved ladies are enjoying tea in a
public garden. The green leaves shimmer as Agnes, flashing a new opal
ring, leans in and tells her friends of her infatuation with a younger
man. One reaches up and removes her earrings, the white star-flowers, so
not a word of the story is missed.
Greta: The inner-workings of Greta’s life were always kept secret. That is, until she was awarded a full scholarship to study art. She threw away all that was not needed, the coins and the cogwheels, and donned the jewels of her grandmother, the painter of souls.
Julia: Her corn-flower yellow shawl was made of Italian linen, the threads loosely knitted together so the warm plantation breezes passed through to tickle her skin. Julia took on her fathers' habits of riding horses in the early dawn, her shawl gathered onto her shoulder and secured with an orange-red flower broach. The broach a gift from the stable-boy, a love that she could never profess in public because he was beneath her social station. Now, her thread-bare social status is lost, like the debris left from the hurricane, as she tried to re-weave her past into a new life.
Lola: Her hair of strawberry-blonde, and eyes of black, she was a writer. She sat by the river listening to faint sounds of steamboats and churchbells. She was a day-dreamer who enjoyed the river breeze against her skin. Her crystal-like necklace glistened in the warm wind while awaiting her soul-mate, a painter , whom she had not seen since the festival. A free spirit, forever moving where the wind takes her.
Mary Kirk: Mary Kirk was her name, the Scottish lass, who skipped through life wearing nothing but rags, and beads of pumpkin and white. The pumpkin-tone was also the color of her hair and the white the color of her ivory skin. She avoided the sun, lived in dark alleys, and lusted after the tavern-owners who fed her brown bread and barley beer.
Tonya: Born in December, the month of turquoise, Tonya danced until midnight most of her life. She taught school by day (they called her the “school marm”), and she napped every afternoon to refresh her energies for her second passion: the dance! The heavy beads danced against her neck as the crescendo of fiddles filled the night air along the bayou Terrebonne. (Sold)
Henrietta: (Sold)
