When jewelry becomes sculpture 

Most pieces start as explorations in sculptural forms. I never truly know what the end result will be: there is always something unexpected and this surprise, I hope, is transferred to the wearer upon engaging with the piece physically.

My interest in emptiness as a sculptural medium is born from my engagement with the philosophy of Zen and the concept of ‘The Empty Mind’, in which we are free from the illusion of a separate self and can understand the interconnectedness of all things. When I draw emptiness into the work – a moment of repose in the piece – it becomes all the more powerful as we focus intently on the contrasting line of material, analogous to the rhythmic pauses of a musical composition. For me the desire – in the making and the wearing – is that we stop and we listen; we are drawn out of the unfurling activity of a chaotic world.

The concept of play is as equally important to my practice. The Articulation neck piece, for example, is made up of segmented linear pieces of recycled silver – every time it is placed around the neck its metallic branches angulate in entirely unique ways, animated by the wearer’s body, movement and choices; crossed over itself multiple times or twisted in a surprising direction and it becomes a new piece again.

I first explore forms using garden wire, which is then translated into a brass maquette. I wear this maquette for months – interacting and playing with it, understanding its personality, guiding it through tiny adjustments as I experience it on my body, until intuition tells me I am ready to make the final jewellery piece.

Next, I work for many uninterrupted hours in the studio; based on the intimate knowledge of the maquette’s shape, I gather a soft, dynamic flow of energy into making – akin to the practice of calligraphy.  It becomes an intuitive almost meditative act.

Each piece is hand-sculpted this way, thus even within a series, each becomes a unique miniature wearable sculpture with its individual character.

As artists we transform material into stories and meaning; into objects that make you think and feel.  Yet, we often forget materials have their own stories, their own historical, environmental and social realities.  The carefully chosen provenance of my materials is the origin of each piece’s deeper beauty.

As a political economist-turned-journalist-turned-jeweller, I was one of the first in the world to work with fully traceable, certified, Fairtrade gold. That was in 2011. While it’s heartening now to see ethics in jewellery is becoming accepted practice among an ever wider group of makers, who take on this complex and thorny issue with the research and commitment it deserves.

Sadly, “green-wash” has become widespread.  Thus You can find a wealth of practical information on ethical jewellery choices for both consumers and jewellers on my website. We have agency within this narrative – to play, to innovate, to commune, to seek a moment of repose, so that we may reflect on the interconnectivity of a universe much greater than ourselves.

This question leads me to pay tribute to my teacher Pierre Belves, who taught us on Saturdays in the workshops of the Union Centrale des Arts Décoratifs du Louvre. His teaching methods taught me to look at things from a different angle, to perceive the affinities that link people and things. Sometimes the under-15s, of whom I was one, would follow him on a tour of the Musée des Arts Décoratifs. We would look with the same interest at ivory miniatures from the Middle Ages, Bernard Palissy’s earthenware animals, stony shrines or beautiful tapestries.

Every Saturday, we had a slide show of the major exhibitions in progress. For years, I soaked up this artistic nourishment. I practiced a little modelling, a lot of drawing, gouache, engraving … and my imagination. Naturally, I began to see everything I did in three dimensions. From that moment on, designing and modelling jewellery became obvious, but I didn’t know it yet.

Later, I accompanied my series of paintings with relief motifs inspired either by figurative themes (animals, foliage, imprints) or by abstract themes (volutes, engravings, multiples) as well as unique jewels which in turn ended up influencing my paintings as well.

In fact, I’ve discovered that in artistic practice, it’s as much the artist who works the material as the material that works the artist. Without this kind of dialogue, nothing really happens.

There’s a story about the Chinese painter who, once his ink is finished, climbs into the painted boat and disappears down the paper river. So, whatever the material used, it “takes” a little of you each time, and the restitution of the offering takes the form of the work, whatever its size.

Wax, for example, is an inexhaustible material that takes a lot and gives back a lot. Once the wax has melted and disappeared, it has become metal, which lends itself to a finish that completes the artist’s work. Wax is neutral; it accepts all proposals and, above all, all intentions. It gradually takes on those intentions. It should therefore be handled with care.

The more it is valued, the more beautiful the jewel becomes.

Perhaps it is first necessary to feel a compelling need for sculpture before it decides to appear. Engraving has taught me to see in a small way what I imagined in a big way. It’s no doubt for this reason that I like to shape my cuffs as if they were small organic sculptures that develop as a ‘family’.

A piece of jewellery is not generally a sculpture, because it is not designed to be one. It responds to certain technical constraints (setting, wearability, etc.) that are specific to it. It is small in size and will remain so. To become a sculpture and a piece of jewellery, you need to learn a sense of rhythm, balance, imbalance, fullness and emptiness, and also to travel constantly between two states, the small and the large.

A sculpture needs to have all the qualities of a piece of jewellery, the elegance of a joyful form, a style, a finesse of inspiration and a bit of magic, so it’s best to avoid the grandeur of a tyrant or a Goliath.

Paradoxically, it was large-format painting that gave me the facility to create jewellery.

Reducing the background and form of a large painting so as to project its energy into a small, portable sculpture is what has enabled me to create these new ensembles, which bring together several hundred prototypes since 1987.

Sylvie is behind the creation of our artist jewellery. We owe their history to her. Little by little, a four-handed collaboration has taken shape, an alliance without words.  Two hearts that have been working together for nearly forty years, driven by the joy and pleasure of creating beautiful and surprising shapes in the service of an immemorial art.