Farewell, Old Friends

Farewell, Old Friends

Clean bench, waiting to create

For more than a decade, my studio has been my sanctuary — a small room filled with silver dust, sketches tucked under tools, and pieces that marked the different seasons of my work. Some designs became companions for a long time, returning to my bench year after year. Others were made only once and respectfully set aside as I continued learning and growing.

Over time, I noticed how many of these earlier pieces remained with me. Not because they were unfinished or forgotten, but because they carried the steps that shaped me as an artist. They were small turning points — moments when I learned a new technique, tried a different material, or followed a new inspiration. Pieces that taught me patience, craft, and attention. They formed the artist that I am today.

Many of them were offered before, some more than once. Others stayed close to me, tucked safely away. But together, they hold a long, varied chapter of my work — more than 100 pieces that trace where I’ve been, what I’ve learned, and how my voice has slowly changed with time.

As my work continues to shift, I began to feel a quiet tug to clear space. Not to rush forward, but to make room for whatever comes next. Letting go of old pieces has never been easy for me, because each of them carries memories of the moment it was made — the first time I mastered a fine weave, the day I shaped a petal that finally felt right, the hours of exploration that led to

A collection of chasing and repousse pieces from Farewell, Old Friends

So this season, I decided to gather them all together, bring them into the light one more time, and share them as a collective chapter.

I’m calling this offering Farewell, Old Friends.

It isn’t a collection in the traditional sense. It wasn’t planned or designed all at once. Instead, it’s a reflection — a way of honoring the work that brought me here: the early experiments, the long-treasured designs, the technical exercises that opened new doors, and the quiet pieces that stayed by my side.

These pieces won’t return once they find their homes, and will no longer be available after December 31, 2025. But before I let them go, I wanted to acknowledge what they represent: the long path of becoming, the years of practice, and the evolution of a craft that continues to teach me every single time I sit at the bench.

If you’d like to explore this chapter, you can find it here:

Farewell, Old Friends

 

Thank you for being part of this moment with me. Sharing these pieces feels a little like turning the final pages of an old sketchbook — familiar, tender, and filled with the small steps that shaped the work I create today.