Title: Chasing the Line of Light
There are moments in nature that do not belong to us. our lives spent trying to follow them: path of a storm across water, brief geometry of lightning, way bird divides the sky and leaves no trace of its passage. Pietersite reminds me of those moments. It is not a quiet stone. It does not sit obediently in the hand. It shifts, withholds, then suddenly reveals a filament of brilliance as if the darkness itself had learned how to breathe.
When I was small, my father would step onto the balcony whenever thunder gathered over Adriatic. Others closed their windows; he opened the door. He watched the horizon with the seriousness of a scholar and energized curiosity of child. From him I learned that storms are not merely weather but conversations between light and distance. Since then I have always felt that certain flashes in life are not accidents but invitations, though we rarely understand what they ask of us.
Years later, carrying my first child, I asked a goldsmith to create a brooch of two cranes in mid-flight. It was not ornament alone; it was a vessel for anticipation, a small metal promise that something unseen was already on its way. Jewellery can be a quiet archive of personal constellations, objects that remember what we ourselves might forget.
Pietersite holds, within its dark surface, pale streak that resembles a crane sculpted from lightning. It appears only when the pendant turns, when the wearer moves, when light decides to participate. It is a moment been moments. I did not seek to embellish it excesively. copper frame is restrained, deliberate, almost ascetic. Its purpose is structural honesty rather than flourish. Copper warms against skin and deepens with time; it records touch, air, and days lived. It does not pretend to be eternal but evolves with its owner.
Craftsmanship, to me, is an act of humility. The wire must hold without suffocating, guide without imprisoning. Every curve is negotiation between intention and material. I kept the design simple not out of lack of imagination, but out of respect. Some stones ask to be adorned; others ask only to be allowed.
Worn against dark fabric, the pendant resembles distant weather, private storm contained within a palm-sized horizon. In sunlight, metallic blues and bronzes surface like thoughts half-remembered. It is not a loud piece. It does not declare itself across a room. Instead, it rewards those who notice details: slight asymmetry that proves human hand, smoothness along the edges where skin will meet metal, the coil at the bail that holds tension like a breath held before speech.
We chase many things in life: clarity, meaning, signs,often discovering that what we pursue is not the object itself but the brief illumination it offers. This pendant is my small acknowledgment of that pursuit: fragment of sky held still for moment, not owned, merely accompanied.