Arthur and I have made jewelry together for thirty-two years. I drew the designs, and he made them real: the metalwork, the settings, the polishing, every last detail. This page is our story, told the way I would tell it if you sat with us at the kitchen table with a cup of tea.
It started with a sketchbook and a borrowed bench. I had been drawing rings and pendants for as long as I can remember, mostly for fun. One evening Arthur picked up one of my drawings, looked at it for a long time and said, "I think I can make that."
He set up a small workbench in the shed behind our house. The first ring took him almost two weeks. It wasn't perfect, but I wore it every day for years.
For a long time it was just that bench, a lamp, and the two of us. I would bring him coffee and a new sketch; he would show me what he'd made the night before. Friends asked for pieces, then friends of friends.
Slowly the shed filled up with tools, and one day we realised we needed a proper workshop. It was never big. A modest room with good light, two chairs, and a radio that was always on.
"I drew the lines on paper. Arthur gave them weight, shine and a place on someone's hand."
Rose
Our days in the workshop were full of small conversations. Should this band be a little thinner? Does that stone sit too high? Which metal will feel right on the skin?
We chose every material together and argued gently over details. Arthur would turn a piece in the light and say, "Not yet." Then he'd go back to it until we were both happy. Nothing left the workshop until it felt finished to both of us.
Rings, earrings, bracelets and necklaces, each one drawn by hand and finished by hand. Arthur shaped the metal, set the stones and polished every surface himself. You might find the tiniest marks of handwork, and we like it that way.
We made our pieces to be worn, not kept in a drawer. They are waterproof and tarnish-free, and every one comes with a lifetime warranty.
A few years ago Arthur's hands started to ache. It's arthritis. Holding small parts, working with pliers and doing the fine finishing now hurts him, and some days his fingers simply won't do what he asks.
He still wants to work. He would be at his bench tomorrow if I let him. But I don't want to watch him push through the pain, and after thirty-two years I think we've both earned some rest. So we've decided to close the workshop and retire. There is no one to take over, and that's alright. It was always just the two of us.
What you see in our shop now are the last pieces we made together. There will be no new designs and no restocks. When a piece is gone, it's gone.
Our workshop is closing, but these pieces don't have to end with it. We like to imagine them living on with the people who wear them: at weddings and birthdays, on ordinary Tuesdays, passed from a mother to a daughter one day.
Dear friend,
Thank you for every order, every kind message and every photo of our jewelry out in the world. You turned a little bench behind our house into something we're proud of.
If one of our last pieces finds its way to you, please wear it often. That's all we ever wanted.
With love,
Rose & Arthur
