From an early age, I have been drawn to the shape and texture of all manner of things. Dense metal scraps by the roadside; discarded machinery parts, screws, coins.
Their physicality captivated me.
I collected rocks and crystals, drawn in by their otherworldly geometry, how they played with light, and their quiet, grounding presence. Delicate feathers, the dried bones of small creatures, the smooth shape of an acorn…
I devoured every nature book and TV show I could find and spent countless hours searching the pond in our backyard for creatures. I was fascinated by the diversity of shapes and colors, their strange complexity, and interconnectedness of everything, living and non-living.
The world, I discovered, is endlessly generous with its perfect forms, both natural and of human making.
My father was an artist, a painter, and a sculptor. Always making, pushing paint, working clay, chasing a composition. On the train, in the park, his sketchbook was never far from his hand. And it was in my father’s atelier where I learned a very different way to see, not just with my eyes, but with attention. The smell of turpentine, the hush of the room that settled when someone was lost in creation – it stays with me. That space felt sacred, yet at the same time free from rules and expectations.
That love of stillness, for tools and materials, for shaping something and that continuous search for form and presence, became a part of me. Jewelry became the place where all of it converged. To me, the urge to collect, to wear a meaningful object on the body is as primal as the instinct to sit around a fire and stare into the flames. It is an ancient pull, embedded in our genes.
Some of us are just drawn to carry with them something intimate, resting not just on the skin, but close to the pulse. Something that is rarely taken off and becomes part of the body, part of the persona. What has always moved me is the shamanic power of objects, their quiet magic. Shapes, symbols, and special materials that resonate beyond form.
In my work, I sometimes feel a faint thread to the amulet makers of ancient times, to the healers and the witch doctors, to those who shaped meaning from matter.
I create for those who feel it too… At some point, each piece will find someone who sees its true nature and feels the weight and the presence it carries. That exchange from my hands to theirs is part of the magic and carries great meaning.
When I encounter beauty, I almost instantly feel its impermanence. The bloom that will wither. The light that shifts. The moments that slip away.
That transience
haunts and inspires me, making beauty more bittersweet and precious.
Yet in metal and stone, something holds. Time, attention, and emotion are preserved for eternity. Perhaps that’s why I became a jeweler…
