Polished silver owl head ring with amethyst eyes in a bezel setting

How it is made

The words of the trade, one by one, explained to those who do not know them.

01

Lost-wax casting

The model is built in wax, coated in refractory plaster and then heated until the wax runs out: a void of the exact shape is left, and molten silver is poured into that void. To get the piece out the mold has to be broken, so every casting consumes both the wax and the mold, and the model you started from no longer exists. It is the way to obtain what the saw and the file could not — ribbons crossing over one another, undercuts, voids closed on every side — but if the metal does not reach the end of a thin branch the piece comes out maimed, and there is no fixing it: you melt it down and start again from the wax.

02

Figurative subject

A recognizable animal within fifteen millimeters is not obtained by adding detail: it is obtained by getting a few proportions right. In the owl there are three — how far apart the eyes sit, how much wider than tall the head is, where the beak ends — and whoever looks checks them all together, in one go, before even noticing the plumage. The model is carved once only in wax, and from then on every example repeats it: one eye half a millimeter higher than the other does not stay the fault of that piece, it becomes the face of every one that follows.

03

Burin engraving

The burin is a goldsmith's small chisel pushed by hand. It does not scratch: it lifts a shaving of metal and leaves a clean groove that picks up the light. It is the mark that for five centuries has distinguished the Florentine goldsmithing school.

04

Amethyst

Amethyst is purple quartz, and the purple does not come from a pigment: it comes from a few atoms of iron that ended up in the lattice in place of silicon and were then struck by the natural radiation of the rock. That is why the color is almost never laid on evenly — it arranges itself in zones and bands, deeper on one side and paler on the other — and orienting the stone properly on the lap is exactly what spreads it out. It is as hard as citrine, seventh degree, and it is worn every day with no care against scratches; but that purple is the most delicate thing it has. A strong, continuous light fades it, and heat wipes it out altogether: an amethyst heated enough turns yellow, and that is how a good part of the citrine on the market is born. Purple once lost does not come back.