This is my father, Jorge Musi. He was born in Mexico City from Lebanese parents. For most of his life, he designed and built sculpted houses. One of his last projects is my favorite: his guest house in Santa María del Oro, Nayarit.

He is one of the most equanimous people I know, and he has always valued human connection above all else.

I love you dad!


It has been six months of absence.

Musibatty has gone through a process of profound transformation. As an artist, as a woman and as a human being I have had to go down to the depths of my roots and rethink fundamental aspects of myself.

This life is a journey of discovery, not only of the world, but of ourselves. And this last part is, perhaps, the most difficult, because it confronts us with our broken and wounded parts. We all have the option of making that trip to the dark side of our mind, but few are willing to do so. It is understandable, because it hurts. But for some of us, especially those who insist on making art, it is indispensable.

The subject of art is the very essence of the artist. There is no other way to do it. And if, as an artist, I want to offer the world something authentic, something valuable, something that aspires to be called real art, nobody could save me these months of introspection.

Because of that, I have had to be absent. But also for that, now I must return.

Musibatty returns, but no longer as a signature for ornamental art, but as a signature of deep art. Of the kind of art that aims to show us the most intimate twists and turns of a person's soul. That is my commitment with myself and with you, to create art that opens doors to a different appreciation of the world. At least, that will be my intent.

I hope that this road, this life, this work will offer you and me new visions, new symbols, new interpretations of what life is and what we are in this changing and surprising world that we have inherited from the hands of the cosmos.

Welcome back to the Musibatty experience. Thanks for still being here, I'm glad we can meet again.


I use sheets of sterling silver to create most of my jewelry. At the end of each month, I am left with cuttings that are usually too small to work with.

Normally, I would melt these pieces to make larger sheets that I can easily re-use, but this time, I decided to use them for my next series. 

I have no idea what they will become...


I rarely make commissions, but when I was asked to make a cat ring a few weeks ago, I couldn't resist. 

I always had a cat when I was little. First there was Soot (black and cuddly), then Miffy (who abandoned us to become the neighborhood's wild cat), then Chiquis-Chiquis (who had purple eyes and rattled when she tried to meow). I loved their independent and contemplative nature (once they stopped being kittens!).

Now that I live in a large apartment –and before my mothering instincts make me adopt a boyfriend– I've been looking for a cat to share my space with. Until I find the right match, I have been drawing lots of felines, some of which will soon become jewelry.


I bought these calavera magnets for the Day of the Dead. After the festivities, I almost removed them, but decided to play with them instead.

Now, whenever I need a break, I stand in front of the fridge and wonder if there's another way to arrange them.

I share this with you, because this is how I create my jewelry. I look at what I've just made, and ask: what else can I do with this? 

Diego Rivera's Studio

I took these pictures of Diego Rivera's home and studio a few years ago. It is one of my favorite buildings in Mexico City. The day I visited, the property had been recently renovated and looked particularly striking.

The two buildings were designed by Juan O'Gorman in the 1930's. The white and orange structure was Diego's, and the smaller blue house was Frida's. They lived and worked here for six years, after their three-year stay in the US. 

When Frida's father passed away, she returned to live in her childhood home, the now famous Blue House, in Coyoacán.

Diego painted most of his easel paintings in this studio, and he lived here until his death in 1957.

The property is now a museum. You can see pictures of what it looks like on the inside, on the museum's website.

Ives Klein

I try to go out once a week with my dad. He is slowly gaining strength and cannot walk yet, but he appreciates short visits to quiet places, and he lives near the National University's Cultural Center, home to the Museum of Contemporary Art.

We wheeled through the Ives Klein exhibit in contemplative silence, my father looking like a rockstar with the sunglasses he wears to shade his eyes from the light.

Day of the Dead


This morning, I took my dad to the main square of Coyoacán. We decided to honor each of those who are no longer with us, by celebrating life.

Our hearts were filled with images of happy families, ornate food, playful art, and the saturated colors of one of the most festive days of the year.


I’m going to take a break from my jewelry bench, I have a mild case of tendonitis in my right thumb that needs time to heal.

In the meantime, I will work on projects that don’t require physical strength, such as sewing, painting and teaching. I will miss working with metal, but I am sure that I’ll return refreshed and full of new ideas.


Many of the jewelry pieces I design come from memories or unclear visions.

I vaguely recall a ring my mother often wore when I was little, but I can’t remember its exact shape, only that it was long and rectangular and looked fit for royalty.

I discover the image of a beautiful bracelet in a book on African art, only to look closely and realize it is the roof of a circular hut. 

I am fascinated by a necklace worn by a woman walking towards me on the street, and when she approaches I realize it was the reflection of the sun on her blouse. 

Recollection ring.
Handmade with 100% recycled sterling silver.
Soon in my online shop.