One Creative Journey.

Every artist has a beginning — a thread that weaves through all the experiments, detours, and small triumphs that shape their craft. For me, that thread has always been the act of making.

What began as curiosity — beads, clay, wire, and fabric — slowly became something rooted in intention. Over time, that journey unfolded into two branches of the same story:

‍Au Fait Co — jewelry rooted in story, subtle design, and sentimentality.
Foundry — a silversmith’s studio where fire meets form and heirlooms are born.

Both reflect who I am as a maker — the side that finds beauty in restraint and the one that thrives in creation’s raw, elemental process.

“Every piece I’ve ever made has been a reflection of where I was in that moment — learning, refining, and rediscovering what it means to make something that lasts.”

I’ve always been the kind of person who needs to make things with my hands. I can’t remember a time I wasn’t creating something — from perler beads to friendship bracelets, dreamcatchers, or anything that let me see a project come to life. I’ve dabbled in just about every craft imaginable, chasing that feeling of flow that comes when you’re making something beautiful and meaningful out of ordinary materials.

Jewelry came into my life the same way most things do — by accident but at exactly the right time. During my twenties, I spent a lot of time traveling and eventually landed on the Big Island of Hawaiʻi. There, I worked at a little leather bracelet shop, gluing and stamping leather, and wire-wrapping centerpieces that customers would personalize. Most days I was alone in the shop, the steady rhythm of pounding rivets filling the space. When I had downtime, I’d use scraps of wire and stray beads to make earrings — always earrings.

I’ve always loved the way earrings can completely change how you feel — how one small detail can make you look more like yourself. I think my fascination started with my friend Courtney. She had a pair of earrings for every single occasion, and I loved how she could tell a story just by choosing what to wear.

“I loved how something as small as a pair of earrings could make you feel more like yourself.”

Fast-forward a few years to 2020: it’s the pandemic, I’m pregnant, and life has slowed to a stillness I’d never known. I was at home in Minnesota, trying to fill my time, and like so many others, I fell into polymer clay. At the time, clay earrings were the thing — everyone was making them. I spent hours mixing colors, cutting shapes, and baking pieces in my kitchen oven. For about two years, that was my world. I built an entire mini business around it while raising my son, experimenting late at night after he went to sleep.

But there was something missing. During that time, I searched Etsy endlessly for a delicate birthstone bracelet to wear for my son — something subtle, meaningful, and strong enough to live life in. Everything I found was either too bold, too shiny, or too cheap. Nothing felt right. So, I decided to make my own.

I spent the little money I had on supplies and set up shop at my dining room table. I made what I couldn’t find: a dainty ruby birthstone bracelet that felt like a second skin — small enough for everyday wear, strong enough to withstand bath time, park time, beach time, real life. I wore that bracelet constantly. I still wear it now, more than three years later. It’s been through every phase of motherhood and making, and it still hasn’t let me down.

That one bracelet became the foundation of Au Fait Co — a brand built around the idea that jewelry doesn’t have to be loud to have presence. It can be minimal, personal, and still full of story.

“What I couldn’t find, I decided to make — and in doing so, I found what I was meant to do.”

Every piece that followed — from the birthstone collections to the family bracelets — carried the same purpose: to celebrate connection. To turn materials into memory.

As Au Fait grew, I realized that my work wasn’t just about jewelry — it was about meaning. Each stone, each pattern, each choice of color was tied to someone’s story.

That’s why Au Fait remains the softer side of my artistry — minimalist, feminine, and full of quiet symbolism. The kind of jewelry you can wear every day, yet never stop cherishing.

“What I couldn’t find, I decided to make — and in doing so, I found what I was meant to do.”

Even in those early days of beading and wire-wrapping, I always knew I wanted to go deeper — to make real jewelry, the kind that would last generations. Beading was beautiful, but it felt like I had more to say. I wanted to understand the language of metal, stone, and fire.

So I did what every self-taught artist does: I scoured the internet for answers. I watched videos, read forums, tried to piece together what I could. It all felt so complicated — like an art form you had to be born into. Eventually, I signed up for a silversmithing class in Houston. I didn’t finish the full series, but once I understood the basics — how metal behaves, how solder flows, how to bring a design from sketch to structure — I couldn’t stop.

Back in my little home workspace, I started experimenting. I made my first rings — rough, imperfect, but undeniably mine. And when I put them up for sale, they all sold. Every single one. I remember sitting there in disbelief, realizing that maybe this was something I could actually do.

Jewelry-making became the quiet heartbeat of my life. Through moves, motherhood, and everything in between, it stayed constant. When the rest of the world changed, the workbench stayed.

“My first rings were imperfect, but they carried the weight of every spark, every mistake, and every new beginning.”

Eventually, my boyfriend — who has been one of my biggest supporters — suggested turning part of our garage into a studio. That space became my place to create, experiment, and chase the kind of craftsmanship that has always called to me.

One evening, he was in the studio with me, and I asked if he wanted to try making something. Together we chose a stone, shaped the wire, soldered, polished — and by the end, he had made his very own ring. I remember being so impressed (and honestly, a little jealous) at how naturally it came to him. But then I realized something bigger: I could guide someone through this process. I could teach it.

That moment planted the seed for what would become Foundry — not just a personal studio, but a space to create, connect, and pass the torch. When I found the perfect studio space — one big enough to fabricate, sell, and host classes — it all came full circle.

When I first walked into what would become the studio — a tucked-away industrial basement right in the heart of downtown Alexandria — it felt like stepping into possibility itself. The ceilings were high, the walls unfinished, and the air carried that familiar scent of concrete and creative potential. It wasn’t glamorous, but it was raw, real, and full of energy. I could immediately see what it could be — a space where ideas would take shape in silver and flame.

Securing the space felt like an act of faith — a physical “yes” to the quiet nudge that had been following me for years. Suddenly, The Foundry wasn’t just an idea or a dream I’d whisper about; it was a door with a key, waiting to be opened. As I moved my tools in and set up my benches, something inside me shifted. The workbench wasn’t just for soldering anymore — it was for building community, for teaching, for continuing a craft that’s been passed down for generations.

Each corner of the studio began to tell its own story. The hum of the torch, the rhythm of hammer on metal, the quiet satisfaction of a finished piece — it all came together in harmony. This place wasn’t just where I worked; it was where I belonged. It grounded me in my purpose while giving wings to this deeper calling: to help others find that same spark through their own hands.

Foundry became more than a studio — it became a living metaphor. A place forged from grit and grace, where creativity meets craftsmanship, and where the ancient meets the modern in one seamless flow of making and meaning.

“The Foundry is where heirlooms are born — and where makers are, too.”