As a child, I watched my mother repair our worn clothes. My small hands would clumsily try to help, threading needles or guiding the iron. These moments were never about perfection, but about connection. Each patch, each stitch was an act of care; gentle gestures that held things together a little longer. In that quiet ritual of mending, I found warmth and tenderness.
That same spirit lives on in the jewelry I create today. My pieces follow a childlike way of working: loose threads, a hint of nonchalance, a subtle imperfection that recalls those first awkward attempts beside my mother. They appear delicate, yet they endure: strong, intentional forms that carry the softness of touch, the trace of care, and the quiet strength found in things that are almost, but not quite, falling apart.