What the Materials Know
Artist's Story - part 2
I hardly ever sketch first.
Sometimes, if I have a very clear idea or I’m working on a commission, I will. But generally, I prefer to start with a general direction and let the materials take me somewhere. It sounds a little loose to say it out loud, but there’s a logic to it. The materials have their own qualities, their own resistances and surprises. If you let them, they’ll push back on what you thought you were making and show you something better.






Metal is the right material for my jewelry because of exactly this quality. It’s solid — substantial, permanent, the kind of thing that lasts. But you heat it, and it bends. That transformation fascinates me. Something that seems fixed turns out to be more supple than it looks. I love that about it.
Soldering, for the record, is my least favorite part of the process. I say this as someone who does it regularly and has made peace with it. But the part I love is that collaborative quality — starting something, thinking it will go one way, and discovering it’s going somewhere else entirely. Sometimes I surprise myself — or it surprises me. That’s when the work feels most alive.
The paintings have a more prescribed sequence, but the spirit is similar. I work in layers, and the layering has to happen in a certain order. First, the gesso, to prepare the board. Then, a textural background — I make my own textural medium for this. Then the gold or copper leaf, which goes on, dries, gets cleared of excess, and then sealed. Then several rounds of paint over the textural layer, building depth. Then, finally the detail work over the top.


It takes time. There’s a lot of waiting. And I’ll often have several paintings on the go at once, moving between them as each layer dries. Sometimes a piece sits for weeks — or longer — without my fully knowing how it’s going to finish. I’ll start a painting without being certain what the real subject matter will be. The painting tells me, eventually.
My work with reflective materials started as a solution to a problem. I wanted to say a particular thing — to capture the way light shifts across a landscape — and I had to figure out how to do it. That’s been the pattern with most of the techniques I’ve developed. I’m not working from an established tradition here. I’m working from the question: what am I trying to express, and what will let me express it?



The work has changed dramatically since I started. There are early pieces I look at and see how crude they are — important stepping stones, but clearly early attempts. And there are a few I still love. The evolution feels less like progress towards a fixed destination and more like getting better at listening. Better at figuring out how to tell a story.


I shop local and small when I can, for my supplies. But sometimes consistency requires working with larger suppliers, and I don’t pretend otherwise. And I’m always curious about what else is out there — what other materials might unlock something new. That hunting, that experimenting, is part of the work.
Mountain Tree Studios is based in West Hartford, CT. Rachel’s work in jewelry and mixed-media painting is available at mountaintreestudios.com and at in-person events throughout the year.

