One of the hardest parts of being an artist isn’t making the work—it’s everything that comes after. I love sitting down at my bench with raw materials and getting lost in the process of shaping and refining a piece until it feels right. That part feels natural. What’s less natural is stepping back from the bench to photograph, write about, price, and promote that same piece. Suddenly, I’m not just a jeweler—I’m also a marketer, a photographer, a bookkeeper, and a salesperson.
The balance between creativity and business is something I’m constantly learning. On one hand, I want long, uninterrupted stretches of time in the studio, where I can follow ideas and let new designs take shape. On the other, I know that if I don’t tend to the business side—updating my website, writing emails, connecting with stores, posting on social media—those pieces won’t find their way to the people who might love them.
It can feel like a tug-of-war. Too much focus on the business, and I begin to feel antsy, like I need to get to the bench and create something. Too much focus on the studio, and I feel guilty, like I’m ignoring the work of actually sharing what I make. The truth is, both sides are necessary. Without creativity, there’s nothing to sell. Without business, there’s no way for my jewelry to live beyond my workbench and no way for me to keep doing this work that I love so much.
What helps me is remembering that the business side doesn’t have to feel separate from the art—it can be an extension of it. Photographing a piece is a chance to show how light hits the textures in the silver. Writing an email is a way to tell the story of a collection or piece. Even bookkeeping, in its own way, is proof that my art has value in the wider world.
I don’t think the balance will ever feel perfect, but maybe that’s part of the path. Being a jeweler means wearing both hats—the maker and the messenger. Some days the balance leans one way, some days the other. What matters is that, in the end, the work makes its way into the world and onto someone’s hand, neck, or wrist, where it can live the life it was meant to.
