Audrey,” measuring 20x24x24 inches, made using garden hose and cable ties.

Every month, she and four other fiber artists get together for mutual support and critiques of each other’s work. Dvorin’s three peers say she has a tendency to overdo her pieces — too much detail, too much color, too much going on. They also could be describing her life. “I can do it all because I’m obnoxiously organized,” Dvorin says.

In her 29 years in the crafts business, she admits to occasionally thinking, “Why am I doing this?” but she’s learned to juggle her commitments. Early on she had a business partner, and they alternated days at the store so they could spend time with their families. A babysitting co-op picked up the slack, although occasionally a sick child spent the day at the store with her.

Tackling more work in the evenings after her children were asleep made for a few years of marathon workdays. Since her children have grown up, logistics have gotten simpler, although Dvorin is no less ambitious. Now she sets aside one day a week to be with her toddler grandson, two days at the store and the rest for creating and marketing her work.

Rising to the Challenge

Dvorin lives for a challenge, and even designs tests to stretch her imagination: construct a complex vessel in a single color or fashion a basket of yogurt container lids, for example. In 1982, waist-deep floodwaters from a nearby creek after prolonged rainfall made for a whopper of a test in her California town. Dvorin, her friends and some generous artists whose work she represented shoveled for days to remove mud and debris from her shop. About a third of her inventory was ruined, but since the shop was not in a designated flood zone, the contents were not insured for flood damage.

Ironically, Dvorin says, “It was a wonderful time. The merchants in the area got very tight [while] working together. The restaurant owner across the street was tossing spoiled meat out his doorway as I was throwing away dolls. It was so pathetic, all we could do was laugh.”

Dvorin was one of the first to reopen for business after bulldozers pushed the last of the mud and destroyed merchandise off the street. A year later, Dvorin says Various & Sundries was back in pre-flood condition when some stores were still struggling to reopen.

After almost three decades at the same location, Dvorin’s shop has become a fixture in the town’s upscale shopping district and has attracted a second generation of customers. “The 30-somethings come in and tell me they remember shopping here with their parents,” she says. “I find it heartwarming and wonderful to have that kind of loyalty. In fact, if I had a new store, I wouldn’t be making it.”

“Charged,” mixed media, measuring 15x20x15 inches, made with paper rush and cable ties.

“Eye Candy,” measuring 10x20x20 inches, made with straws and cable ties.

“Stuff and Nonsense,” measuring 12x22x22 inches, made with craft sticks, pens, pencils and cable ties.

“New Wave,” measuring 17x16x16 inches, made with copper cable and cable ties.

She extends the same loyalty to her five part-time employees and the artists whose work she sells and is riding out the current tight market by watching price points and offering functional merchandise whenever possible. Currently prices in her shop range from 50-cent “trinkets” to $800 for some jewelry and appliquéd clothing.
The mostly California artists that she represents come as a result of attending wholesale shows and street fairs, searching trade magazines, and walk-ins familiar with her 29-year reputation in the industry.

Evolving as an Artist

In the 1970s, Dvorin began crafting intricately knotted decorative covers for bottles, selling them in her shop next to the work of other West Coast artisans. She started taking herself seriously when she was offered a two-page spread in the “Goodfellow Catalog of Wonderful Things.” (Christopher Weills earned a guest appearance on “Good Morning, America” for his publication of this mail-order catalog of handcrafted items.) “I was incredibly flattered and encouraged,” Dvorin says. “It convinced me to go on.”

Dvorin’s artistic signature is her use of unusual materials. She uses what she calls “urban materials” that she collects at home, buys in bulk at salvage depots and sometimes discovers in hardware stores. She looks for recognizable household or industrial items that are often discarded after one-time use, from ballpoint-pen casings, plastic spoons, and cocktail toothpicks to oxygen tubing and cable ties.

A Moveable Studio

Dvorin’s home, perched on a redwood-studded hill in Kentfield, Calif., is a visual feast, filled with her own work and craft works collected during her long career. Her downstairs studio reflects her allegiance to both sides of the sales counter. The business side is spare and orderly, just a phone, fax and laptop computer on a desk with a wide-angle view of the green, woodsy hills. On the opposite wall, buckets, bags and shelves full of toothbrushes, copper wire, sport bottle tops and rubber bands wait for the next installment of what Dvorin calls “wacky basketry.”

Since she works from start to finish on a single piece at a time, her supplies are always ready to travel. She carries her art-in-progress upstairs to the living room and works on it as she relaxes with her husband in the evenings. She hauls it to the shop and makes headway on quiet days.

She packs extra art materials and takes them on vacation, shipping completed pieces home like souvenirs. “Emily’s output is astounding,” says Dixie Brown, a member of Dvorin’s art critique group. “She makes time for art, and is more productive than the full-time artists in our group.”

Aiming for the Top

Dvorin markets her smaller pieces at Various and Sundries, but sells her high-end work at juried gallery shows, exhibitions and open studios that she announces with postcard mailings. Having built her West Coast reputation, her goal for 2002 was to expand into national markets, but her fiber art friends convinced her to first try photographer Kate Cameron who specializes in shooting art. Dvorin’s glad she did. A juror from one of the national shows called to say her work was accepted, and that her slides were the best they’d ever seen.

Buyers rarely use her pieces functionally, however a customer who bought one piece made of acrylic rods asked if she could put fresh fruit in it and if it was washable. “Since it’s plastic it could function that way,” says Dvorin, “but it’s meant to be visually complete on its own.”

“Afterglow,” measuring 15x15x15 inches, made with acrylic rod and cable ties.

Her contemporary works sell for $30 to $2,000 with pieces from $450 to $750 selling best. Bristling with pointed materials or deceptively ethereal with nettings of wire, Dvorin’s work may appear alternatively lethal or delicate, but Dvorin says they are very sturdy and need little maintenance other than dusting.

Searching for venues compatible with her progressive, adventurous style, she was surprised by little interest from sophisticated shoppers in New York City. Instead, Dvorin has found buyers in places she did not expect, like Santa Fe, N.M., and New Canaan, Conn., as well as at shows in Virginia, Illinois and Ohio. “I’m excited and stimulated to be alive in this era,” she says. “Even 20 years ago, there would have been no place for my work.”

Dvorin currently is sending portfolios with a bio and slides of her newest pieces to targeted galleries nationwide. It’s the lead-up to her next goal of placing her work in permanent museum collections. Always seeking fresh challenges and setting new goals, Dvorin says retirement is not one of them. “I have a rich life,” she says. “I can’t imagine giving up any of it.”

Bonnie Ayers Namkung is a free-lance writer who writes about business and the arts.