These rings showcase materials foraged within one bioregion; a region described by natural features rather than human-made borders. In response to the insensitivity of globalised supply chains our work intends to draw sensitivity to the local richness of place. A distinguishing characteristic of these uncommon design materials is their relationship to time. Sandstone and coal form geologically over millions of years, while sea sponges grow in seasonal cycles. Meanwhile, driftwood and waste marine plastic highlight the spectrum of properties across natural and artificial categories, as well as the permeability of earthen spaces as constantly shifting material ecologies.

Hawkesbury sandstone, coal, drift wood, pumice stone, sea sponge, fishing line, marine plastic, sand, neodymium magnet and sterling silver.

A collaboration between Kyoko Hashimoto and Guy Keulemans.

Australia is the world’s largest miner and exporter of bauxite, the ore from which aluminium is extracted. Aluminium is recyclable and of the 75% of aluminium that has been produced throughout history, around 746 million tonnes is in current use and available for recycling. That is about 80 kg for every person alive. Relying on this existing material would motivate better care and consideration for the metal, reducing waste. Slowing and then stopping new aluminium production could be part of a shift to a circular economy.

We want to understand the flow of materials across space and time. We want to map them, as they move, form and transform around the world, but also through history and into the future. As the world is to contend with a climate emergency that may disrupt global supply chains, we speculate that it is beneficial to understand the resources available underfoot. Digging up our own materials, and being forced to deal with the consequences of local extraction, illuminated to the designers are the hypocrisies and injustices of placing the burdens of unsustainable production disproportionally on the environment and less-developed countries.

(Commissioned by the National Gallery of Victoria, Melbourne)

This neckpiece presents rough chunks of coal foraged from the Sydney Basin bioregion, that are individually carved into spheres and set inside sterling silver claws in place of precious gemstones. The contextualisation of this fossil fuel into the typology of gems and jewellery allows the examination of the material from different perspectives; political, ecological, aesthetic and temporal.

Coal is formed from ancient trees that fell around 300 million years ago, before bacteria and fungus had evolved to decompose their lignin. Today, coal its burnt to fuel infrastructure and economy at the cost of the environment and our future.

Image credit

Top: Fred Kroh
Bottom: Tom Ross

As a designer thinking critically about place-based making, how we engage with materials for production and their relationship to the land, I decided to cast my focus on Sydney Basin bio-region. This area of Australia was once part of a massive river system, and is made up of a thick layer of sandstone that extends as deep as 6km bellow the surface. The sand which makes up the land originally washed down from the area around Broken Hill approximately 85 million years ago. Due to its desirable qualities of strength, appearance and carvability, Sydney sandstone was used to build many of the city’s early colonial structures. After winning several international awards and being recognised as the most desirable building material in the world, the demand for Sydney sandstone peaked in the early 20th Century. Huge blocks of sandstone excavated from Sydney quarries were exported to countries including New Zealand, Fiji and as far away as Canada to be turned into public structures. Many of these buildings still stand today. The use of Sydney sandstone became less popular after the 1950’s, when global materials such as steel reinforced concrete became the preferred choice of material for construction, and the use of sandstone became somewhat antiquated.

The Sydney Basin also has several significant coal seams, and is the only metropolitan area in Australia to operate a working coal mine within its catchment. Coal is composed primarily of carbon, and is formed when dead plant and animal matter are compressed under the earth’s geological pressure over millions of years. its geological age is between 300 - 500 million years. 75% of the coal that is mined in Australia is exported, mainly to Eastern Asia, and the remaining coal is burnt to generate electricity and produce steel.

I collected chunks of sandstone and coal from Pyrmont and Coalcliff respectively, and brought the specimens back to my studio. I turned the materials on the lathe into spherical balls of various sizes. Initially, I wanted to create a string of bead necklaces, but I somehow felt that was not the right design choice. Instead, I decided to create individual ‘pouches’ for the beads to nestle in. This way, I could avoid drilling through the center of each sphere, which somehow felt cruel and barbaric. I wanted a design solution that honors and respects the materials. Considering their geological age, I felt it was warranted. After some weeks of material experimentations and many prototypes, I settled on a design that uses vegetable tanned kangaroo skin that protects and holds the sheres in place by using a Shinto knot known as musubi. This particular style of knot signifies deep respect for nature and strong bonds between people.

“I would like to acknowledge the Gadigal people of the Eora Nation, the traditional custodians of this land and pay my respects to the Elders both past and present.” 

With all the positive experimentation that concrete avails, unfortunately one cannot shy away from the fact that concrete is a resource heavy industry and through pushing the material to greater heights many of our celebrated concrete building will need ongoing conservation and restoration. Concrete cancer is the term given to the alkali–silica reaction that occurs within reinforced concrete. Being a porous material concrete absorbs moisture and elements around it, moisture and oxygen causes steel to rust. When the steel within reinforced concrete begins to rust it expands causing ‘spaling’, cracks in the concrete, which undermine the strength of the building.

The Large prayer beads (daijuzu), 2018, is a collaboration between myself and Guy Keulemans made in concrete with steel rebars that mirror the steel in reinforced concrete. Overtime these beads will begin to crack and eventually crumble and break apart.  In their unmaking they provide society the challenge to seek new technologies that advance concrete well into the future.

The Large Prayer Beads (Daijuzu) is currently being shown as part of the exhibition, CONCRETE: Art Design Architecture. Curated by JamFactory’s Margaret Hancock-Davis and Brian Parkes, the exhibition features 29 artists, designers and architects from across Australia and brings together products, projects and works of art that reflect many of the current preoccupations with concrete within contemporary art, design and architecture in Australia.

NATIONAL TOUR DATES:
 JamFactory, Adelaide, SA: 1 March – 28 April 2019
 JamFactory, Seppeltsfield, SA: 8 May – 7 July 2019
 Perc Tucker Regional Art Gallery, Townsville, QLD: 20 July – 8 September 2019
 Cairns Regional Art Gallery, Cairns, QLD: 22 November 2019 – 12 January 2020
 Australian Design Centre, Sydney, NSW: 24 January – 15 March 2020
 Bathurst Regional Art Gallery, Bathurst, NSW: 27 March – 10 May 2020
 Lake Macquarie Regional Art Gallery, Booragul, NSW: 12 June – 9 August 2020
 Griffith Regional Art Gallery, Griffith, NSW: 29 August – 24 November 2020
 Western Plains Cultural Centre, Dubbo, NSW: 4 December 2020 – 24 January 2021
 Cowra Regional Gallery, Cowra, NSW: 13 February – 21 March 2021
 Mornington Peninsular Regional Art Gallery, Mornington, VIC:  30 April – 20 June 2021
 Design Centre Tasmania, Launceston, TAS: 2 July – 5 September 2021
 Murray Bridge Regional Gallery, Murray Bridge, SA: 18 September – 14 November 2021
 Signal Point Gallery, Goolwa, SA: 3 December 2021 – 6 February 2022

The issue of materials and how they are made and transported demands attention as the most pressing socio-environmental problem of our time. Consider the role of fossil fuels in the production of plastic: they are extracted from the ground to create plastic polymer feedstock, but also power their own transport around the world. From crude oil in Iran, to petrochemical in Japan, to injection moulding pellet in China, to plastic toys in Australia, creating climate change emissions, pollution and waste at every stage of the process. The infiltration of plastic waste into the ocean is particularly dire, potentially leading to mass extinction through effect on ocean animal ecologies. Concrete, the other main material in these works, is equally problematic. It is the material most widely used by humans after water, and the fourth largest emitter of greenhouse gases. It is commonly used in building with mild steel reinforcement that reduces its service life from centuries to decades. The thinking that underlies these waste-based systems of production is short-term. It feels eschatological, as if we are unavoidably headed towards a dark, cruel cataclysm. Perhaps this is a consequence of Western-centric development and the influence of Christian concepts: of end-times and a short, violent history of the earth. We wish to challenge this kind of thinking through the re-design of Buddhist ritual objects from Japan – objects developed from a fundamentally different and much longer conception of time, being and world. Drawing our fears together in the collection of our own domestic waste, our ritual objects are made from concrete and pieces of plastic toys used, broken and discarded by our children.

Hossu 払子 are used to brush away insects from chairs and seating surfaces, so as to avoid the unnecessary death of living beings. The brush fibres are made from the sun-faded remnants of polymer nets we found at the Sydney Fish Markets.

Hohatsu 宝鉢 are the bowls monks use to beg for food and alms. For Buddhists, they signify non-attachment to material possessions.

Juzu 数珠 are the Japanese form of Buddhist prayer beads. Traditionally made from wood, semi-precious stone or ivory, the soft grinding noise that results from the manipulation of the 108 beads in the hand is said to focus the mind on the weaknesses of human attachments and passions. Its traditional tassel is made, like the brush of the hossu, from the unravelled fibres of a discarded fishing net.

Collaboration with Guy Keulemans

Photo credit: Makiko Ryujin

As kids grow up, toys they once treasured and played with becomes abandoned and obsolete. Sometimes with broken parts, scratches and fading colours, these toys get thrown out and most end up in landfill. I disassembled "HELI", a plastic toy my son used to adore when he was about two years old. Embedded in resin and sanded back, the tile reveals abstract forms of the plastic casings and parts of the original toy. Instead of ending up in landfill, it will now be made into a brooch for me to wear and treasure. 

Processed materials should not be divorced from its vibrant origins. The series of rings create sensory links between the raw forms of materials and their manufactured products. The latter are ready in the form of refined metals, paints, resins, concrete and dyes typical to our practice. Obtaining and using their precursor- ores, rocky minerals, fossil fuels of various types, all of which have plant and animal origins- require a little more effort. We take advantage of small scientific samples, shipped to us from around the world, thanks to fossil fuel. Collaboration with @guykeulemans. 

Elizabeth was given the set of knitting needles by her late grandmother when she was about 6 years old. Her grandmother was an avid knitter, and she taught Elizabeth how to knit. She used them off and on for 35 years until one day, she accidentally snapped one of the needles. Losing their functionality, Elizabeth initially threw them out, but quickly retrieved them. The needles represented something very precious to Elizabeth, it was a link to her dear grandmother. A collaboration with Guy Keulemans, we sliced the broken needles into tiny segments and encasing them inside a clear resin bangle. Now Elizabeth has a wearable bracelet, and its little slices speak of the repetition of knitting patterns, and the progression of life, year by year

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Object Therapy was a research and design project created to help us rethink our consumption patterns and re-evaluate the broken objects that surround us. Developed as a collaboration between Dr. Guy Keulemans of the University of New South Wales (UNSW) and Niklavs Rubenis of the Australian National University (ANU); the project was an investigation into the culture of ‘transformative’ repair as practiced by local, interstate and international artists and designers.

Often repaired objects are perceived as being of less value. Object Therapy seeks to challenge this preconception, celebrating repair as a creative process that can add value.

The exhibition featured 30 broken or damaged objects (including one human!) that have undergone therapy – treated and ‘creatively’ repaired by a designer or artist.

The broken objects were collected via a call for entries that was open to anyone who had a broken or damaged piece that needed fixing. Participants dropped their objects off at Hotel Hotel in Canberra and were video interviewed by a design researcher to better understand their relationship with the object and their perceptions of waste and repair. They were then asked to ‘let go’ of the item so that it could undergo ‘therapy’. Objects were then handed over to a designer or artist for repair. The design brief was loose – the appearance and also possibly the function of the object may have been totally transformed as a part of the repair process.

Designers and artists had six weeks to repair the object. At the point of being reunited with the object the owners were video interviewed again.

The Object Therapy exhibition includes the objects along with excerpts of the video interviews to form a practical study of repair and its possibilities – building a new body of knowledge around repair, the design process, and objects and their meaning.

View the project here

Japan, as an island nation, had a natural limit to its resources. Now, in the global economy, Japan is the biggest importer of natural gas and the second largest importer of crude oil. Both are used to produce goods made from synthetic plastics, of which Japan is the world’s eighth largest exporter. This ranking might not include the export of petrochemical feedstock, the raw chemicals used to make plastic pellets, or the pellets themselves. Due to accounting and terminology complexities of global trade, it’s hard to know.

And it’s hard to know where any particular plastic product really originates. A plastic toy might be stamped ‘Made in China’, but this only refers to a final manufacturing stage. Before that, the pellets or chemical feedstock likely came from Japan, though perhaps Germany or elsewhere. And before that, the fossil fuel raw material could be Middle Eastern crude oil or gas from the North Sea. Or gas from Australia, as Japan is Australia’s biggest buyer.

Given the significance of global material flows and their dominance over traditional craft materials in both volume and economic value, I question whether I can meaningfully define ‘Japanese materiality’ in contemporary terms.

Nenju are the Japanese form of Buddhist prayer beads. Traditionally made from wood or stone, the soft grinding noise that results from their manipulation in the hand is said to focus the mind on the failures of human passions. The Nenju presented here are made from the materials of plastic toys used, broken and discarded by my children.

A contemporary spin on the classic engagement rings. While the idea of using ethically sourced stone is becoming increasingly important to many consumers, the term "ethically mined" is a grey area as it is extremely difficult to fully trace the origin of gemstones. Many mines operate illegally, cutting down rain forests and miners work under apparlling conditions. 

I have fabricated and set "stones" out of 9, 14 and 18 carat gold, sourced from 99% recycled gold. 

A series of rings I made over the years. These objects initially developed from my Endcap Project where I repurposed a common “endcap”, an industrially mass-produced component, oftern used to cap an end of a rope or tassel in jewellery. The endcap, which is essentially a deep bezel, was then further developed and combined with archetypal shapes to form a new visual language, and also to test the boundary of wearable art.

Coober Pedy opal set in resin.

For all the discussion about renewables vs coal-fired power plants in the news cycle in Australia, the extraction of fossil fuels for energy and chemical production continues unabated around the world. As crude oil becomes more costly and difficult to obtain, industry is chasing other kinds of fossil such as oil shale and oil sandstone. 

These fuels all develop under the earth’s crust from the decaying bodies of plants and animals, over millions of years. Crude oil has a high level of petroleum making it valuable for the production of plastics and other highly technological products through processes such as hydrocracking and chemical synthesis. Oil shale has less petroleum, oil sandstone less again, making it less suitable for extracting synthetic polymer precursors, so we burn it.

It is impossible to list all the things these rocks and oil are used for, though they include many types of plastics, carbon fibres, glues, tanning agents, bitumen, cements, bricks and insulation materials, as well as soil additives, fertilisers and pharmaceutical products. 

Let it just be said it surrounds us in forms we barely recognise. We are immersed in a paradigm that we hardly understand, let alone have the capacity to escape. 

Better worn than burnt.

Skye bought this rings from a market stall in London in 2010. Out one night, a little tipsy, she hit her hand on a steel bench top and chipped the ring. Skye expresses real concerns about our 'use and chuck' society. She carries with her at all times reusable cutlery, a cup and straw so that she never has to resort to one-use plastics. She worries about problems of ocean pollution where fish are dying from ingesting micro-particle petrochemical plastics.

My responded to the object owner’s concerns, and while I often uses plastics in my work I wanted to repair the ring without them. This extended to not using glues, many of which come from the same fossil fuel sources as plastics. In the 20th century, in the period prior to the development of petrochemical adhesives, there were many pairings of materials in repair craft that may now seem strange or incongruous – the use of metal staples to repair broken ceramics is a notable example. Inspired by this, I repaired the ring by designing a tension set silver sleeve to bridge the broken ends of glass and protect it from further damage. The sleeve is fashioned in the style of fish scales, referencing Skye’s concern for the inhabitants of the ocean.

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Object Therapy is a research and design project created to help us rethink our consumption patterns and reevaluate the broken objects that surround us. Developed in collaboration with Dr. Guy Keulemans of the University of New South Wales (UNSW) and Niklavs Rubenis of the Australian National University (ANU); the project is an investigation into the culture of ‘transformative’ repair as practiced by local, interstate and international artists and designers.

Often repaired objects are perceived as being of less value. Object Therapy seeks to challenge this preconception, celebrating repair as a creative process that can add value.

The exhibition features 30 broken or damaged objects (including one human!) that have undergone therapy – treated and ‘creatively’ repaired by a designer or artist.

The broken objects were collected via a call for entries that was open to anyone who had a broken or damaged piece that needed fixing. Participants dropped their objects off at Hotel Hotel and were video interviewed by a design researcher to better understand their relationship with the object and their perceptions of waste and repair. They were then asked to ‘let go’ of the item so that it could undergo ‘therapy’. Objects were then handed over to a designer or artist to repair. The design brief was loose – the appearance and also possibly the function of the object may have been totally transformed as a part of the repair process.

Designers and artists had six weeks to repair the object. At the point of being reunited with the object the owners were video interviewed again.

The Object Therapy exhibition includes the objects along with excerpts of the video interviews to form a practical study of repair and its possibilities – building a new body of knowledge around repair and the design process, and objects and their meaning.

View the project here