I've always been fascinated by how I warm to people most when they share something vulnerable about themselves - whether it's something they're struggling with, a dream they're pursuing, or something else. These sorts of conversations have always felt so meaningful to me.

When I was younger, I thought I'd become a psychologist. Although my life ended up taking a different direction, that same interest in people and their flaws is woven into every piece of jewellery I make.

I grew up in a town called Lowestoft before moving to London in my late teens. Like many people, I didn't know what I wanted to do when I left school and spent most of my twenties working office jobs and enjoying living in London. Somewhere along the way however, I lost touch with the thing that I loved most as a child - making things.

During the pandemic, I found myself searching for that feeling again, throwing myself into all sorts of creative projects. Nothing quite stuck until I joined an evening jewellery class after moving to Bristol. I signed up hoping to meet new people in the area, but instead fell completely in love with the craft.

Jewellery making gave me something I hadn't realised I was missing. Despite involving hammers, fire, and lots of noise, it brings a sense of calm to my life. It has had a profound impact on my mental health, giving me something positive to channel my energy into, and a sense of purpose.