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Title: “The Stone That Remembers Rain”
I made this pendant on grey morning when the light had a softness that seemed to whisper through the window. The kettle whistled, my hands were still stiff from sleep, and yet—there it was. A moss agate, like a forest floor frozen in time, cradled in a web of warm copper. Not shining like gold or demanding like diamonds, but honest—moss-green with flickers of rust, like autumn leaves trapped in melting snow. A stone that looks like it remembers rain.
There is always something deeply human in working with copper. It’s not obedient. It twists back. It argues. You do not simply bend it—you converse with it. And this pendant—this one spoke. It wanted to spiral, not into symmetry, but into feeling. The wirework is not perfect—but neither am I. I learned long ago that imperfection is the fingerprint of sincerity.
When I held it finished in my hand, it felt like a little truth. Not a grand, blazing truth—but the kind that lives quietly in your pocket, or against your collarbone, waiting to be touched when the world feels too loud.
I think perhaps the person who wears this will not choose it for shine or trend. They will choose it because it reminds them of something half-forgotten: the way light used to fall in a childhood garden, or the sound of someone they loved humming while washing dishes. Moss agate is like that. Memory made solid.
There is a crack in the wire at the back where I pushed too hard. I leave it. Like in Dostoyevsky’s writing—beauty is not in the perfection, but in the struggle toward grace.
So here it is. My flawed offering. My little philosophy in copper and stone.
#rubiace #ballarat #ballaratartist #artisan
#handmadejewellery #mossagate #copperpendant #wearableart
#wirewrappedjewelry #slowmade #makershands #inthemaking
Title: “The Stone That Remembers Rain”
I made this pendant on grey morning when the light had a softness that seemed to whisper through the window. The kettle whistled, my hands were still stiff from sleep, and yet—there it was. A moss agate, like a forest floor frozen in time, cradled in a web of warm copper. Not shining like gold or demanding like diamonds, but honest—moss-green with flickers of rust, like autumn leaves trapped in melting snow. A stone that looks like it remembers rain.
There is always something deeply human in working with copper. It’s not obedient. It twists back. It argues. You do not simply bend it—you converse with it. And this pendant—this one spoke. It wanted to spiral, not into symmetry, but into feeling. The wirework is not perfect—but neither am I. I learned long ago that imperfection is the fingerprint of sincerity.
When I held it finished in my hand, it felt like a little truth. Not a grand, blazing truth—but the kind that lives quietly in your pocket, or against your collarbone, waiting to be touched when the world feels too loud.
I think perhaps the person who wears this will not choose it for shine or trend. They will choose it because it reminds them of something half-forgotten: the way light used to fall in a childhood garden, or the sound of someone they loved humming while washing dishes. Moss agate is like that. Memory made solid.
There is a crack in the wire at the back where I pushed too hard. I leave it. Like in Dostoyevsky’s writing—beauty is not in the perfection, but in the struggle toward grace.
So here it is. My flawed offering. My little philosophy in copper and stone.
#rubiace #ballarat #ballaratartist #artisan
#handmadejewellery #mossagate #copperpendant #wearableart
#wirewrappedjewelry #slowmade #makershands #inthemaking