Good morning, lovers…

What a joy, what a pleasure, what a thrill it is to make things for other people.  Creativity (for me) happens within a magical world, into which I have always escaped whenever my real world doesn’t offer what I need or want at the moment. Whatever I create in that magical world of ideas and imagination becomes real the moment I commit it to a tangible existence.

When I was growing up I spent a lot of time creating in my head, but because we had so little money there were precious few opportunities to manifest into reality anything I dreamed up. Painting on my bedroom wall with crayons was an affordable artistic endeavor and so my mother championed it.   So was making my own clothes, although I would get so impatient to wear whatever I was sewing together that my seamstressing skills were rather amateurish (a dress looked far better on the outside than it did on the inside).  And even the ritual of fixing something to eat to quell a long day’s hunger pains became creative once I realized that good food made people happy, satisfied, and (often) talkative, which extended the dinner, which made me happy.

When I was all grown up, and working, and making money, it became easier to translate into tangible existence my more elaborate imaginings.  Over time my dreams switched from making dresses of silk to making my own jewelry, inspired wholly by the wondrous skills of Southwestern Pueblo Indian jewelry smiths (I grew up in Northern New Mexico).  And, predictably, once I developed some proficiency in silver, I dreamed of gold.  

Far less predictably, I dreamed of designing wedding rings, less predictable because I wasn’t married and had no desire to be. Although I understood the essential belief that wedding rings are meant to be a symbolic expression of marriage vows, to me, as a designer, they had the potential to be something far more meaningful for a couple getting married.  They could be an expression of “together, yet individual,” of “united, yet independent,” of “traditional, yet eccentric,” but I couldn’t find rings designed with such sentiments anywhere.

I couldn’t find wedding rings that I would want to wear were I to want to get married.  And so I started designing rings.  And soon couples started asking me to design rings for them.  And designing them became my greatest joy and honor as a designer, because it was such a privilege to be included in a couple’s love for one another and their personal expression of how that love might translate into the slips of metal that would surround their fingers.

These Whorl Wedding Rings were created for friends – both of whom are bakers – and are made out of 18k rose gold.  Hers slim with tiny diamonds, his wide and bold.  They are entirely different from one another, but made to harmonize, to fit, to complement, to accompany.

Here’s the funny thing: eventually when I did get married, I did not design and make my husband’s and my weddings rings.  Sometimes it is easier to make something for someone else.

Here’s to lovers being together in harmony, but always retaining their individual spirits.

Have a lovely day, lovers.

Giselle