I made this small rectangular ring—quiet in form, but full of motion. Across its surface, I soldered wavy strips of silver, then added chiseled lines that run in different directions.
It made me think of grasses bending in the wind, or the shifting surface of the ocean. It’s such a small space, but somehow it holds movement. Not a snapshot, but a feeling of change caught mid-breath.
What I want it to say—without words—is that everything is always moving. Nothing stays. Except maybe the one who watches. The one who holds space. That’s what I feel like sometimes—the container, the vessel. The constant, inside the flow.
It reminds me of growth, of water, of the impossibility of holding on. You can see it, feel it, but never truly keep it. It slips through. It becomes something else. That’s what I love most, I think. That it doesn’t need to be controlled to be powerful. That wildness has its own kind of peace.
Trace of Sea Ring.
Forged in silence with recycled sterling silver.