s00036 Congo Malachite pendant

$120.00

“Whispers of Copper and Bloom”

Sometimes, when light falls just so, I am taken back to my grandfather’s garden in the small town of Makarska, where the Adriatic kisses the stones with ancient, salty lips. I see him there still, sitting beside me in warm hush of late afternoon, his thick fingers deftly mending fishing nets while singing old the Dalmatian songs that carried the scent of the sea and sorrow. I remember how he would hum between verses, the rhythm as steady as his hands, and how we worked in silence that was not empty but full—of bees buzzing around the fig trees, of the clink of grapes dropping into the bucket, of stories passed not by words but by gesture. It was there, in the dappled shade of that garden, that I first learned to listen—with my fingers as much as my ears.

This pendant is my remembering.

A sliver of Congo malachite—deep green as pine needles after rain—held fast by a weave of antiqued copper, intricate and unrushed. It is not perfection I seek, but a kind of quiet dialogue between hand and metal, stone and story. I have shaped each curve with the patience of the bees I used to watch as a child, their feet dusted in pollen, staggering home like drunken philosophers.

Nestled against the stone are tiny enamel flowers, vivid like the wild poppies that grew along my grandfather’s wall, defiant in their beauty. A copper bee clings near, a small homage to those tireless artisans of nature, who taught me more about diligence and grace than any book could.

When you wear this piece, you are not wearing a jewel. You are carrying a story—of soft Adriatic afternoons, of the smell of sun on stone, and the quiet labor of hands that choose slowness over spectacle. It has weight, yes—but not heaviness. It sits on the skin like a memory not fully yours, but somehow familiar. Something half-remembered from a dream or a poem you forgot you loved.

Crafted not in haste, but in meditation. There is a word we use along the Dalmatian coast—gust. It means so much more than taste. It is pleasure, fullness, emotion swelling in the chest. It is the joy of having everything you need in one moment: sea, sun, ripe fruit, warm hands, and time. That is what I hope you feel when you clasp it around your neck.

—From my small Ballarat bench, to wherever you might roam. 🐝🌿✨

#rubiace #ballarat #ballaratartist #artisan #copperjewelry #wirewrappedjewelry #malachitependant #slowcraft #poeticjewelry #makerstory #beeinspired #wearablepoetry #natureinspiredart

“Whispers of Copper and Bloom”

Sometimes, when light falls just so, I am taken back to my grandfather’s garden in the small town of Makarska, where the Adriatic kisses the stones with ancient, salty lips. I see him there still, sitting beside me in warm hush of late afternoon, his thick fingers deftly mending fishing nets while singing old the Dalmatian songs that carried the scent of the sea and sorrow. I remember how he would hum between verses, the rhythm as steady as his hands, and how we worked in silence that was not empty but full—of bees buzzing around the fig trees, of the clink of grapes dropping into the bucket, of stories passed not by words but by gesture. It was there, in the dappled shade of that garden, that I first learned to listen—with my fingers as much as my ears.

This pendant is my remembering.

A sliver of Congo malachite—deep green as pine needles after rain—held fast by a weave of antiqued copper, intricate and unrushed. It is not perfection I seek, but a kind of quiet dialogue between hand and metal, stone and story. I have shaped each curve with the patience of the bees I used to watch as a child, their feet dusted in pollen, staggering home like drunken philosophers.

Nestled against the stone are tiny enamel flowers, vivid like the wild poppies that grew along my grandfather’s wall, defiant in their beauty. A copper bee clings near, a small homage to those tireless artisans of nature, who taught me more about diligence and grace than any book could.

When you wear this piece, you are not wearing a jewel. You are carrying a story—of soft Adriatic afternoons, of the smell of sun on stone, and the quiet labor of hands that choose slowness over spectacle. It has weight, yes—but not heaviness. It sits on the skin like a memory not fully yours, but somehow familiar. Something half-remembered from a dream or a poem you forgot you loved.

Crafted not in haste, but in meditation. There is a word we use along the Dalmatian coast—gust. It means so much more than taste. It is pleasure, fullness, emotion swelling in the chest. It is the joy of having everything you need in one moment: sea, sun, ripe fruit, warm hands, and time. That is what I hope you feel when you clasp it around your neck.

—From my small Ballarat bench, to wherever you might roam. 🐝🌿✨

#rubiace #ballarat #ballaratartist #artisan #copperjewelry #wirewrappedjewelry #malachitependant #slowcraft #poeticjewelry #makerstory #beeinspired #wearablepoetry #natureinspiredart