The Honest Scar — On Beauty, Pain, and the Courage to Be Seen

We spend so much of our lives trying to stay polished.
Our words, our faces, our timelines — everything glazed to perfection.
But what happens when that surface finally cracks?

When the enamel gives way and the copper beneath burns through — raw, imperfect, and real?

That’s where The Honest Scar began.

This pendant isn’t meant to adorn; it’s meant to expose.
It’s for those who carry pain quietly — the ones who smile through heartbreak, who keep going despite the weight of their inner world.

The piece is shaped like a heart, not as a symbol of love, but of courage. The copper was broken intentionally, left unenamelled, scorched in the kiln. Through that fracture, the skin shows — raw, vulnerable, human. Around it, enamel glows with a deceptive calm. Together, they mirror what it means to be alive: beauty and pain, inseparable and intertwined.

When I held the finished piece, I realised — this isn’t just metal and glass. It’s a confession. It’s the part of us we rarely let others see.

In my practice, enamel is a voice. Every layer, every burn, every imperfection speaks. I don’t make jewelry to beautify; I make it to translate what words often can’t — emotion, memory, the quiet chaos within.

The Honest Scar reminds me that healing isn’t about erasing what hurt us. It’s about wearing it with grace. The cracks are not flaws — they are our maps. They tell where we’ve been, what we’ve survived, and how deeply we’ve felt.

To wear it is to say:
I am both my shine and my scars, and I am whole because of them.

Maybe that’s the most honest kind of beauty there is.

Now on display at Steuben Gallery, New York City during NYC Jewelry Week, November 17–23, 2025.