Why Handcrafted Jewelry Is Worth It — A Maker's Perspective
In a world where jewelry can be ordered in bulk, shipped overnight, and priced by the gram, it's worth pausing to ask: what do you actually hold in your hands when you choose something handmade? As someone who makes every piece herself, I can tell you — it's more than you might think.
A Workshop Built Over Time
My studio is at home, but don't let that fool you. It has grown steadily over the years, shaped by patience, investment, and a little bit of luck. A few years ago, I had the opportunity to acquire machinery from a retiring jeweler — tools that had already spent a lifetime in service of beautiful things. There is something quietly meaningful about that continuity. Those tools carry history, and now they help me make more of it.
Why Glass — and Why Metal
I have always been drawn to the contrast between cool, timeless metal and vibrant, living color. Glass gives me exactly that. It can hold a depth of color that no paint or enamel quite matches, and when set against silver or bronze, the combination feels both ancient and alive.
I work primarily in silver and bronze for my historical pieces — not by accident, but by intention. These are the metals that archaeologists actually find. Using them is a form of respect for the original makers, a way of staying true to what these objects once were. In the future, I hope to explore sea glass and gemstones further — materials that carry their own histories and textures — but for now, the dialogue between metal and glass continues to inspire me.
What You Don't See
Here is what most people don't realise when they hold one of my pieces: the finished object is the last step in a very long journey.
It begins with wax. I carve each mother piece by hand — a process that demands patience, precision, and a willingness to start over. From that carving, a mould is made. The wax pieces are then patched up carefully and prepared for casting, a stage that takes far longer than it might sound. Only then are they sent to the caster.
When they come back, the work is far from done. Sprues need to be sawed off. The surface needs cleaning, refining, and finishing. What arrives as a raw casting leaves as a considered, complete piece of jewelry — but only after many more hours of quiet, careful work.
None of that is visible in the final piece. That invisibility is, in a way, the point.
A Horse in a Book
My favourite pieces in the collection are my Celtic fibula brooches depicting a horse. I first saw them in a book I was given when I was ten years old — a book about ancient artifacts that I pored over for years. Something about those elegant, elongated forms stayed with me. When I finally had the skills and the tools to make them myself, they were the first fibulae I attempted. I sell them in both silver and bronze, and they remain among the pieces I am most proud of.
There is something quietly full-circle about that. A child fascinated by ancient things grows up to make them with her own hands.
A Distinct Voice
One of the things I hear most from customers — and the thing that means the most to me — is that they can pick my pieces out in a crowd. Even for historical replicas, where other jewelers are working from the same source material, something in my work is recognisable as mine. I don't fully know how to explain that. It might be the finishing, the proportions, the choices made in those final hours of work. But I think it comes down to this: when you make something by hand, you leave something of yourself in it. And people feel that, even when they can't name it.
That is why handcrafted jewelry is worth it. Not just for the hours, or the skill, or the materials — but for that invisible thread between maker and wearer that mass production simply cannot replicate.
Every piece at Triskellia is made by hand in my home workshop, from wax carving to final finish. If you'd like to see what that looks like in practice, explore the collection — or reach out. I love talking about the work.