Why Silver Forgets Its Shape

There's a way of working silver — I'm not going to tell you exactly how, that secret is part of the work — that produces a surface I can only describe as a kind of forgetting. The metal lets go of the right angles and the straight edges of the world above and slides into something older. I won't tell you the process; I will tell you everything I can about the result.

Some pieces I make this way look like rivers. Some look like the back of a leaf. Some look like skin that has been touched by a kind hand. Some look like the wax in the bottom of a candle. Some look like nothing in particular at all, only beautiful. None of them look the same as any other. That isn't a marketing decision. It's not even my decision. It's something the silver does when it's allowed to.

The metal itself matters. I work these pieces in 999 fine silver, not sterling. Sterling silver is hardened with copper; it's the everyday silver of cutlery and chain. 999 silver is the pure metal — softer, more luminous, with a colour somewhere between cream and water. It tarnishes more slowly than sterling. It also moves more honestly under heat, which is part of why I use it for this work.

People sometimes ask me why I don't make matching pairs. The honest answer is that I can't. Even if I tried, two pieces made the same way would not come out the same way, and trying to force them would be like trying to make two clouds match. The market, of course, wants matching pairs. It always has. Mass production exists precisely to deliver them. What I make is the opposite of mass production. It is a single conversation between a maker and a particular piece of metal on a particular afternoon, and the conversation ends when the piece is done.

Once you have one of these pieces in your hand, here is what to notice. The surface is not flat — even where it looks flat, the eye finds tiny landscapes if you tilt it under a good light. The patina is alive: it will deepen in some places and stay bright in others depending on where you touch it, what you wear it with, how often it sits against your skin. A piece six months in will not look exactly like a piece on the day it arrived. This is the point. The piece is finishing itself on you.

Care is simple. Don't bath in it (jewellery prefers dry air to soap). Don't store it loose against other metal — keep it in a soft pouch or its own small box. If it ever needs cleaning, a polish cloth made for silver is enough. Avoid dips and liquids. The patina is part of the piece. Some of it is meant to stay.

I think a lot of the things worth wearing are like this. They aren't manufactured into being. They are coaxed.

Outside today it's cold and the light is low. Good light for noticing how a metal moves.

If you'd like to see one of these pieces in person, come to Paddington Markets on Saturday morning. The light is honest there.