Full Steam Ahead

Via: Etsy - TimeTravelTeaParty

My latest fascination has immersed me in a genre I never thought I'd consider interesting. When first introduced, my aesthetic censors registered “steampunk” fashion as rough on the eyes and, in some cases, even downright ugly.

Take, for example, those naked watch movements commonly found in jewelry on Etsy. These components, exposed after being ripped from their carefully crafted cases and pretty crystal domes, looked just like “junk” to me. Even though I’m a watchmaker’s granddaughter, I just couldn’t see understand why anyone would want to wear metallic parts meant to work behind the scenes.

So, I ignored this steampunk business, and went about my way. And, that was that, right? Oh, not even close.


Neverwas Haul via: www.flickr.com/photos/albany_tim/

Steampunk is sneaky. I was subconsciously being exposed to it in some form or another again and again. In one instance, I mildly listened to a friend talk about a working steampunk mechanism he spied at a fair. Then, while using Google Image, I stumbled across a Victorian-style moving house featured at Burning Man and around the country: The Neverwas Haul. I pored over photos of this practically life-sized house on wheels, fixated by its architecture and the antiquated-yet-modernized outfits of its drivers.


Via: Etsy - steampunksupply

As I culled online haunts for antique parts to use at Adorned by Morgan, I become increasingly more attracted to items from sellers with “steampunk” in their shop names. And all the while, in the back of my mind lurked my past love affair with a somewhat obscure computer game called Myst. More than a decade later, I can still vividly recall some of this fantasy world filled with piping systems, squeaky knobs and puzzles revolving around complex mechanisms.


Myst screen shot via www.zathras.de

So, my dislike of steampunk eventually turned into a slow and steady admiration. After a while I decided that yeah, those tiny little gears were sort of cute. And those movements? Some of them had intricate etchings, scrolled words, fascinating patinas. They looked like perhaps they had been crafted with as much care as their cases, despite the fact that they’d rarely be viewed.

Before long, I was typing “watches” into search boxes on a daily basis. I went from collecting cases and considering gears to actually buying balances and *gasp* those very movements whose value I had once questioned! Because in my mind, those movements would make the perfect airship-type hot air balloons—worthy focal points for a necklace, and I had to have them.


Via: Etsy - CheapBoutique

And now? Mere weeks after my first purchase of a collection of movements, I’ve plowed through my first steampunk novel. There’s even a tiny SciFi logo on it declaring Cherie Priests Boneshaker to be an “essential book” for science fiction enthusiasts. As a woman who grew up subjected to the SciFi channel whether she liked it or not, I can tell you that a novel with such a declaration was the last thing I’d expect to have my rapt attention for two straight days.


Cover art: Jon Foster

No, I’m not into the darker or Gothic aspects of steampunk. I don’t want to wear metal-cast skulls or super duper creepy goggles and gloves and boots. I still haven’t finished my research about it or checked out its philosophies as a lifestyle. But, I can appreciate aspects of the genre. I am drawn to its Victorian elements, its affinity for brass and fantastical flights of aviation, and yes, even a number of those once seemingly garish inner watch workings have become sources of recent inspiration.

I’m intrigued to see where this journey takes me—whether it be to a steampunk-theme bar in Brooklyn, or an art festival out West someday. For now, I’m going to take this lesson in stride, trying to remember that our experiences and perception inform objects just as much as these objects inform us.