Metal
01
Metalsmithing / form / adornment
Jack of Jupiter/by Bailey
Curiosity has terrible boundaries.
An idea rarely arrives knowing what it wants to become. I follow it through metal, wood, resin, wool, paint, paper, film — and whatever else it asks for — until it finds its form.
Nashville, Tennessee
The trail so far.
A few forms curiosity has taken.
Swipe / drag
13 forms
Furniture
02
Restoration / transformation / second life
Wood
03
Found material / grain / function
Fiber
04
Wool / needle / form
Paint
05
Pigment / gesture / surface
Digital + Print
06
Illustration / graphic design / paper goods
Floral
07
Composition / color / living material
Resin
08
Light / structure / sculptural form
Gifting
09
Curation / composition / presentation
Wood + Laser
10
Heat / grain / precision
Ceramics
11
Clay / form / function
Wax + Paper
12
Object / image / design
Photography
13
Light / frame / observation
Practice / Method
I rarely begin with a medium. I begin with a pull — an image I can’t quite shake, a material I want to understand, a question that lingers long enough to become something tangible.
Sometimes the answer is metal. Sometimes wood, resin, wool, paint, paper, clay, light. I have never been particularly interested in asking an idea to fit the tools I already know. I would rather learn a new language than compromise what it is trying to say.
Perhaps that is where my fascination with psychology enters the work. I have always loved reading people — noticing what draws the eye, what creates attachment, what makes something feel familiar before we understand why. The smallest choices reveal more than we realize: a preference for one texture over another, an object kept long after its usefulness has passed, the inexplicable pull toward a certain color, shape, or imperfection.
I pay attention to those things.
The point was never to master one language.
Some ideas become editions. Others remain singular. Some are made for one person, one room, one particular moment. Some exist only long enough to leave a trace.
What connects them is not category, but intention — and a belief that the right form reveals itself when an idea is given enough room to become what it was meant to be.
Jack of Jupiter is a record of that curiosity: objects made across disciplines, shaped by observation, and allowed to exist without the need to belong neatly anywhere.
Curated. Collected. Made with intention.
A closer look
Resin
Light / structure / sculptural form
A material caught somewhere between liquid and permanence.
Available to be kept.
Some pieces stay with me. Some are made for one person, one room, one moment. Others are waiting to find where they belong.
About Bailey
I didn’t create Jack of Jupiter because I finally found my one thing. I created it because I stopped believing I was supposed to.
I have been making for as long as I can remember. My first piece was published through the public library when I was in kindergarten. By high school, my photography was receiving gallery awards and appearing on magazine covers. But even then, I was never particularly interested in belonging to a single medium.
Art has always been my language. Psychology, perhaps, my fluency.
I am endlessly interested in people: what they notice, what they overlook, what they reach for without quite knowing why. I read expressions, rooms, objects, choices. I am fascinated by the quiet architecture of preference — the memories attached to materials, the emotional weight of color, the reason one object feels immediately familiar while another leaves us unmoved.
That instinct follows me into everything I make.
Sometimes an idea asks for metal. Sometimes wood, resin, wool, paint, clay, paper, photography, or an old piece of furniture waiting to become something else. Occasionally it asks for a material or process I have never touched before. Then I learn it.
For a long time, “jack of all trades” sounded like a warning — as though seriousness required choosing one language and speaking it forever. I never quite believed that. Curiosity has always felt less like distraction to me than a form of attention.
So I follow the question until it finds its form. I study the material. I learn the tool. I notice what changes when texture, proportion, symbolism, memory, and human behavior begin to meet.
Because making, to me, has never been entirely about the object.
It is about the person who will encounter it. The hand that will reach for it. The room it will quietly alter. The association it might awaken years later. I am interested in objects that carry a little psychological gravity — things that feel considered before their reasoning is fully understood.
Some become editions. Others remain singular. Some are made for one person, one room, one particular moment. The medium changes because the idea does.
The point was never to collect hobbies.
It was to learn enough languages to say the thing properly.
Jack of Jupiter is where those languages meet — a record of curiosity, observation, and objects made with enough intention to be worth keeping.
Have something in mind?Let’s talk.
Bring me the question, the strange idea, the piece you’ve been thinking about, or the thing you can’t quite find anywhere else. Ask about an existing work, propose something new, or simply get in touch.
Object inquiries, commissions, collaborations, press, questions, and other propositions are all welcome.