
I did not always like pearls.
For a long time, I saw them as old-fashioned: a beautiful material tied to a very fixed idea of jewellery. Over recent years, I began to see pearls used differently. They could be less formal, more direct, and open to different identities and ways of wearing. That gave me space to form my own relationship with them.
Now, I see a pearl first as an element. It can be a dot, a body, a texture, a point of light, or a small object with its own character.
I am drawn to freshwater pearls because each one is different. Their shapes, sizes, colours, and shimmer vary. I do not see that variation as something to hide. It is the beginning of the work. China, my home country, produces many freshwater pearls, and I hand-pick the pearls I use before I make and assemble each piece in my Auckland studio.

A conversation between objects
The moment a pearl sits beside another object, a conversation begins.
A pearl beside a silver line has a different presence from a pearl on its own. Put two together and their shapes, colours, and character start to respond to one another. Add more, and a story or a particular feeling can emerge. Selecting and arranging the pearls is therefore not a final detail. It is one of the main ways I design.
This way of working has a close relationship with my calligraphy and architecture practice. I often return to basic elements—dots, lines, and surfaces—and ask what happens when their proportions or relationships change. A dot can become a body. A line can become structure, direction, or interruption. A repeated element can become rhythm.

Composition: pearl and line
The Composition earrings began as an exercise in these fundamental elements. They rework a familiar pearl stud by placing a fine silver bar through the pearl. In Composition III, the concealed post sits at the top of the pearl, which lets the pearl sit slightly lower and nearer the edge of the ear.
It is a small shift, but it changes the feeling. The stud is still familiar enough for everyday wear, yet it becomes more playful and contemporary. The pearl is not simply decoration; it becomes a body in relation to the silver line.

Monolith: rhythm and a life lived with an object
The Monolith pearl-patterned necklace is about a different kind of arrangement. Its pearls move from small to large and back to small again, repeating across the necklace. The sizes range from around 1 mm to 10 mm.
Individual pearls may come from different lakes and have been formed at different times. When I bring them together, I think carefully about how they work as a group: where the rhythm builds, where it becomes quieter, and how the sequence feels on the body.
I remember a mother commissioning one of these necklaces for her daughter’s twenty-first birthday. For that piece, I chose more rounded forms because I wanted it to remain relevant through different stages of her daughter’s life—not only at twenty-one, but at forty-one or sixty-one as well. That consideration of a person’s changing life is important to me. A piece can carry a specific moment while still having room to continue with its wearer.
Heart: enhancing character, not just making a connection
The Heart pendant came from a different response to pearl. I found large baroque pearls extremely impactful: irregular, full of character, and already carrying a strong presence. A small loop or a simple thread felt too polite for them. It would make the pearl functional as jewellery, but it would not do justice to the force of the material.
Instead, I pierce the pearl with a thick silver bar. The gesture is deliberately direct. It gives the pearl a stronger structure and amplifies its character rather than merely attaching it to a chain.
This is what I think about when I work with pearls. I am not trying to make them behave like a conventional symbol of elegance. I am looking at what each one is already doing, then deciding what relationship, rhythm, or tension can make that character more visible.
The pieces begin with pearls, but they become about arrangement: how material, form, and the body can hold a conversation.

