Working It Out

My earliest sketches for the “Royal Mines” collection.

Something I’m finally coming to terms with is how long it takes me to put together an entire collection and get it out into the world. Let me explain…

Though I started learning how to make jewelry back in college, I didn’t really dive into jewelry-making until years later, designing for big companies in New York City like J. Crew, Kate Spade, and C. Wonder. When I finally started making jewelry for myself I was still in a “big company” mentality: take a theme and design your brains out; sketch every possible iteration in the form of necklaces, earrings, rings, and bracelets; send the designs to a factory abroad to make; pick through those samples and decide what’s good to go, what needs revisions, and what gets dropped. We’d sketch anywhere from 150-300 styles per season and land on 80-100 that would go into stores.

When I started making things for myself, it became clear pretty quickly that the way I was used to working just couldn’t be scaled down to a 1-person team. (Correction: it was instantly clear to my husband, Zach; it took me 5 years to get on board). I *loved* designing all those different pieces, bringing a concept fully to life through a wide range of styles. But when you’re the only one sketching, working out the details, sourcing the materials, fabricating every idea, making the pieces to sell, setting the stones, aaaaaand juggling all the business-y stuff, things get overwhelming fast.

But since accepting that I can’t do all the things, I’ve come to some beautiful realizations that wouldn’t be possible otherwise: I can focus on fewer, more special things; I can take the time to get the details right; I can splurge on special or unique stones; and, in this increasingly digital world, I end up with a physical object that I’m proud to have made with my own two hands. Extra points if that object brings joy to someone else, too.

Working out ring details early in the design process with the help of my friend’s cat, Blue.

Early versions of the Pharos Ring.

Knowing that there are only so many hours in my week, I’m forced to edit down all the ideas to only those that I’m the most excited about. (“What a burden!” she cried sarcastically.) When you have to fill dozens or even hundreds of stores with new jewelry every few months, it becomes more about quantity than quality. How could anything feel special when you’re churning through hundreds of designs every few months at big companies? Now, I get to tweak and edit something until it’s the best version of itself.

Plus, the jewelry in every store would need to look exactly the same, which meant we’d have to use lots of synthetic materials, devoid of the things that make natural stones so unique and interesting. Forget about finding a stone that you like and making just one of something, too; at bigger stores, you’re making 100 at a time or you’re not making it at all.

And I love, love, love that at the end of the day (or rather, few months or even a year) I can hold something in my hands that I made from start to finish. So much labor, creative brainstorming, material sourcing, trial and error, and even frustration go into making each piece, and it’s so rewarding to be able to say I did it all myself.

At my bench setting the emerald and getting those prongs looking 💯

This was certainly not meant to be a diatribe against jewelry companies that outsource their jewelry-making to companies overseas — it’s just me realizing after way too long that I’m *not* a 200 person company, and that there are really special things that can happen when you embrace that. And if you appreciate all those same things, I’m so glad we found each other.

How It’s Made: Wax Carving a Ring

I’d love to be one of those people with an immaculately clean, magazine-worthy studio, but I’m finally coming to grips with the fact that I’m just not. I don’t *want* to be this way, I promise.

Case in point: my current workbench, which you can see at the top of this post.

The reason for my current mess is that I’ve been trying hard to avoid distraction, get my butt in my studio chair more, and work on new pieces. That involves a lot of wax carving (very messy but very fun), a technique where I carve exactly the piece I want using a block of wax and files, make a mold of the wax, then cast in metal.

I just finished carving a ring I've been dreaming of for a while, a chunky brass ring with a beautiful, deep blue lapis lazuli, and wanted to share the process of making that first wax model with you:

A wax tube specially made for carving rings.

The roughly carved shape with a space for the stone.

This ring started as a long wax tube with a hole running through the center. I cut off a section exactly the size I needed, and carved the center hole bigger to fit a finger. I had a true-to-size sketch with exact measurements already figured out, so I carved away more wax from the outside based on those numbers (I hate math, this is not my favorite part) until the whole thing was a rough, geometric version of the ring I had in mind.

Next I traced the oval stone on the flat top of the wax, and dug that shape out to give the stone a place to sit. I carved a smaller oval straight through the top of the ring — you won’t see it when the stone is in place, but it will help the ring feel less heavy and clunky when you’re wearing it.

Look! It’s actually a ring now!

Making wax beads that’ll get attached to the ring.

Next I carved the contours of the ring, leaving a border around where the stone will go. It’s a slow process — carve, carve, check how it’s looking, repeat 30 more times — but this is when it *really* starts looking like a ring.

Happy with the shape, I moved onto making tiny wax beads. I cut up small bits of wax wire and used a heat pen to ball them up into little spheres. I made little divots along the edge of the ring where they’d eventually go, and attached them with more heat, melting their surfaces together.

Ta-da! The finished ring model.

A cast silver model vs. a wax model.

Lastly I cut more wire to make prongs that will hold the stone in place, and used the heat pen to attach them to the top. I checked to make sure the stone would still fit, and voila! She’s ready for casting. Here’s a photo of the finished wax next to an earlier version I already had cast so you can see the before and after.

The whole process took about 3 1/2 hours, and it’s so worth it to get that slightly irregular, hand-wrought feeling that I love in jewelry. Now she’s off to be cast in silver, made into a mold, and then (if I’m happy with how she’s looking) cast for real in brass and set with the lapis.

I’m working out more pieces this same way, and can’t wait to share the final results with you!