top of page

Two LInes
Jewelry

I want gold to feel like it came from an archaeology dig, battered and buried, locked away...treasures lost and then discovered and dusted off. 

Silver, the glisten on the ocean, the ripple of moonlight, dew in the morning. 

Copper, married to the poor, bearing such bendable and strong capacity, bringing light and water into our homes, grounded to earth, better with age, never lost, always reused. 

 

Wood sharing the seasons in rings...discarded glass and fragments worn by the ocean...fine porcelain from mud shaped by our fingers and fire. 

I love petroglyphs, subtle marks, simple marks with big meanings...the endless sea, the shape and motion of seeds on the wind, the curve of leaves and fruit.

I want to see the pull of the line, the stretch and the bend, like water finding the easiest route which is never ever straight, but always touching the most. 

 

I want to feel the pounded metal with hammer in hand. The human imprint. My unique mark which closely resembles another. Or perhaps is exactly the same.

 

Two lines as one. 

bottom of page