Memento
Mori.

A language
of brushstrokes

I explore fine art through jewelry.

Museums, galleries, and the work of painters continually shape the way I see and create. I’m drawn to the movement of a brush, the thickness of paint, and the way a surface holds light. To me, those textures hold the artist’s gestures and carry their story forward. When I look at Monet’s brushstrokes, they feel like footprints—physical traces of his presence. Through those marks, I feel connected to the person who left them, across time.

Brushstroke textures are part of my DNA. Across different designs, they remain a familiar language—a way of translating painting into something you can hold and wear.

Looking a
little closer

When Fernanda (@universaldecoart) invited me to take part in her exhibition, “What does death mean to you?”, I began thinking about how a familiar texture could hold an image that isn’t immediately visible.

I used anamorphosis: a technique in which an image is distorted so that it becomes recognizable from a particular viewpoint or through a curved mirror. In this ring, the polished bezel becomes that mirror.

At first glance, the piece feels familiar, with the sculptural brushstrokes of my Impasto rings. But turn it and look at the texture reflected in the bezel, and a skull begins to appear.

Present, even
when unseen

The skull is intentionally hidden within the texture.

For me, this reflects the way death exists alongside our everyday lives. We know it is there, yet we don’t always notice its presence as we move through familiar routines.

That relationship between presence and awareness became the heart of this piece.

The time
we have

When I forget that my time is finite, it becomes easy to put things off—to assume there will always be another day for the people, experiences, and work that matter to me.

Memento Mori is a reminder I need, too.

Remembering death can bring our attention back to life: to how we spend our days, what we choose to care for, and what we hope to make of the time we have.