A glimpse behind the scenes

The project that will keep us busy until the end of July is writing and editing stories of Manos Amigas’ artisans and taking photos which help tell those stories. Sam will post some of these stories and photos to his blog; while I will probably link to them occasionally, I suspect that my stories here will be limited to the adventure of finding and writing those stories, like being on (and off!) the edge of the map.


I’ve been working on this project for several months now, but we only just started making visits to the artisans ourselves in February. While I knew the goal was to write stories for nearly all of the artisans, we also knew that a bunch of information existed already based on our explorations of the computer network. I didn’t want to have to replicate work, and figured that some of the existing stories might just need some accompanying photos, for instance. With Christina’s help, I found all the current information from all the various computers and slowly started reading through them to see what information existed on what artisan. And, oh joyous rapture, I built a spreadsheet to keep track of it all. How I love a clean, chock-full-o’-miscellaneous-info, excel spreadsheet. I was recording which artisans already had a story written, whether it was good enough to use as is or with a few edits, or whether it needed more information to be interesting, which artisan workshops were documented with good photographs, etc.


Finally, I could cross-reference my spreadsheet with a list Yannina had given me for which artisans to visit. I determined that about 10 of the 50-odd artisans did not need a visit at all, due to the quality of information already in Manos Amigas’ possession. This was a relief since, while we are excited by these visits for a number of reasons, I really don’t want to ride a bus for two hours there, visit a workshop for an hour or two, then take a bus back for two hours, if we don’t genuinely need to visit. I think Simon and Sam feel the same way!


Most of the artisan workshops we visit are at least one hour away by public bus. Most are probably closer to one and a half to two hours, one way. So these aren’t spontaneous visits. We figure out what artisans are next on our list and review what type of documentation we need to collect. We tend to see 2 or 3 workshops in a day, depending on how close they are to one another and how much information we need. I interview the artisan and scribble notes, never getting down as much information as I want to because of my mind's constant mixture of Spanish and English. Sam takes photographs and asks questions. While we tag team on holding Simon or watching him carefully in the workshops, Sam usually takes care of him more often, since I have to ask questions/listen/write, etc. Simon's limit tends to be two workshop visits, although I am always pushing the envelope.


While we have visited workshops in several different districts so far, I'm limiting this post to the workshops in San Juan de Lurigancho: three jewelry workshops, two painted glass workshops, and one painted wood workshop. The levels of success have varied intensely. 


Fermín and Carlos are incredible silversmiths (each has his own workshop; they are colleagues but not business partners) and each has a comfortable home and workshop. They have both been in the business for 25 years and have a small handful of clients, therefore not dependent on any one client for most of their business. That said, they are both always looking for more opportunities for clients and to grow and expand. One of Carlos' clients is Novica, and he showed us his work on their website. Fermín is interested in starting a jewelry school for poor people in his workshop, in the space where his current living quarters are, so that he and his wife could teach their craft to others who do not have a specialized skill yet. Sam recently posted about Fermín and included the story we wrote, as well as a lot of pictures; hence Fermín will not be as represented here in pictures as the other artisans.

Piles of beads being made into earrings at Fermin's workshop

Carlos' instructions for a design for a new pendant

Carlos gave us a demonstration of how he works with silver. First pieces of silver are melted under intense heat from a blowtorch.

After melting, Carlos pours the silver into a mold,  then puts it in water to cool. He chips away any impurities that remain. The small block of silver just underneath Carlos' hand is thick right now...

...but after putting the block of silver through this compressor several times, it begins to thin out.

After a dozen or so passes through the compressor, the small block of silver was stretched into this thin band. Carlos can now use this to cut out different shapes to create earrings, rings, etc.

One of Carlos' workers heats a ring with a blowtorch while carefully placing the base on top. The base will later be filled with a stone.

Simon wasn't sure if he wanted to play with Carlos' dog or not, but they kept tabs on each other the whole visit.

Alvina also creates jewelry, but has a small workshop and has to outsource the silver melting/pressing that Fermín and Carlos can easily do in their workshops. Manos Amigas is her only client right now and while she has been able to support herself and her two sons, now in their early twenties, with jewelry making, she is mulling over other options. Alvina created the beautiful earrings we helped package for a recent shipment.

Alvina with a wall of jewelry designs and past orders

Apolonio and Jaime (again, two separate workshops) both create painted glass pieces, from trays to jewelry boxes to mirrors. I am particularly in love with Apolonio’s work. While neither employs people outside of his family, Apolonio is clearly more successful than Jaime. Apolonio seems to have a better time fulfilling his orders on time and well, and his love for his work was evident as we talked with him. Apolonio rents out two homes as an additional source of income, and is able to support himself on his artesanía as well as his rental income. Apolonio’s roof, however, still looked like it was going to collapse while we were there.

The base for one of the glass trays; it just needs to be placed into the wooden frame

The rear of Apolonio's workshop

One of the mirror frames he creates...

...several of his trays...

... and another tray, with Sam.

This brown building in the middle is Apolonio's home. His workshop is behind the sign at the top.

Jaime enjoys his work, too, but it doesn’t seem like he has the same level of business sophistication that the more successful artisans do. Jaime is considering quitting artesanía and opening a restaurant instead. His workshop is literally carved out of the rock in the hill.

Jaime's home

Jaime showed us several steps that go into making painted glass trays. The design is screened onto a piece of glass.

His son creates color separations on his computer, which Jaime then uses to paint on each color.

More color separations; there is a lot of detail in each tray!

After each color of paint is placed, they lay the glass pieces out on this long table, in the front room of their house, to dry. You can see the workshop through the open door in the back.

This is what the tray looks like when it is finished.

The workshop, carved out of rock

This is where Jaime does all the carpentry work for building the wooden trays. It is a tiny space, up these steps. It is perhaps four feet deep by 10 feet wide.

Jaime and his family

Lastenia and her siblings paint ceramics for plates and bowls, and wood for jewelry boxes and other knickknacks. They have been working together for 30 years. They live on the very very edge of a settlement at the top of San Juan de Lurigancho. They started building their home/workshop 30 years ago, but it looks like it was just started last year. It still lacks a roof, walls in some places. The existing walls are brick and mortar.

Oscar paints details on a platter

Lastenia, Oscar, and Flormira

Placemats in process

In Lastenia's workshop... note that there is no wall at the end.

Lastenia is feeling the economic downturn keenly, responding to calls from the municipal government every time they put a call out for workers. I asked her what type of work that meant. “You knock on people’s doors and deliver messages about bills being due, that sort of thing. They pay you 30 cents for every message you successfully deliver. That means you have to run around to actually make enough money every day!” Lastenia is not young. 

It is incredibly meaningful to see the artisans in their homes, in their environs, and seeing them produce items which look familiar from my shopping excursions to Global Gifts. It is also quite humbling. Seeing the beauty that can be produced from a district where “beauty” is not the first word that comes to mind, is striking.