Cherub's Eyes Reliquary Earrings: process, memory, making

I recently made a pair of statement earrings, and the designs for them became deeply personal. The process turned into a breakthrough moment where it felt like my imagination was opened to how I could move forward with my jewelry designs. I feel as though a new chapter is on the horizon.

Last year, I decided to focus on creating jewelry pieces for myself as a way to return to my creativity and rediscover my true path and style. I had begun to fall out of love with jewelry and felt as though I was drifting away from what first drew me to it.

After making a few everyday pieces for myself, I stepped back from the studio to let inspiration come naturally. I wanted to return to the kind of artful, statement jewelry I used to create when I first started, but I wasn’t sure yet what that would look like.

One thing became clear as I added to my personal collection: I wanted to create a piece of jewelry for every important life celebration. If you’ve followed my work for some time, you may know that I make a new ring for myself for each year of marriage. I’ve always loved the idea of a collection that grows over time and rings that tell a story, year by year, rather than a single, unchanging symbol.

Last fall, my family and I traveled to Spain for my daughter’s baptism. The ceremony was held in a Spanish cathedral adorned with colorful hand-painted tiles and ornate Baroque details. Like many European cathedrals, it housed a reliquary room, a space filled with treasures: a gold and gemstone crown, diamond and pearl-encrusted crucifixes, and intricate stands displaying sacred relics.

I’m not particularly religious, but I’ve always been moved by how art, architecture, literature, and music are inspired by sacred practices and spaces. I also knew this baptism would be a special family celebration, one I wanted to remember through a piece of jewelry.

The concept began with a question: how could I bring my father to the ceremony for my daughter, and have them together in one piece? My father passed away early last year, and he absolutely adored my daughter. Their bond was special, and I was heartbroken that he couldn’t be part of one of her first life celebrations.

I started with my daughter’s eyes. I’d written before about Victorian-era “lover’s eye” jewelry and thought to reinterpret that idea. Instead of a lover’s eye, these would frame my little cherub’s eyes, playful, protective, full of light. I also thought of the evil eye, used to ward off spirits, and the jester archetype from Pueblo dances here in New Mexico. In those dances, laughter is a form of medicine, protection through joy. My daughter is always smiling, always laughing, and I loved the idea of using her gaze as both symbol and shield.

In a previous post, I shared a bit about the process of oil painting on copper. The photos above show a glimpse of that technique. I’m still teaching myself the best methods to make these miniature paintings both durable and wearable. The copper surface, which I saw and hammer-form by hand, must be free of dust and oils, then lightly abraded so the paint can grip. From what I’ve read, the natural oxidation of copper interacts with the oil paint, forming a lasting bond, something I’m eager to test and observe over time.

Once the eyes were painted, I began to think about the form of the earrings. They needed a top element and dangles, but how could I keep them lightweight while still heavy with meaning?

That’s when I remembered the reliquary rooms. My father was never one for possessions; what remains of him in a physical sense is very little. I collected some of his hair at the hospital, and it reminded me of how, in mourning jewelry and sacred relics, locks of hair, fragments of bone, soil, and ash are preserved as vessels of memory.

I decided to layer strands of his hair with adobe earth from the mud bricks he once built with. I sealed these together under a thin sheet of mica, then added eleven faceted gemstones in each earring’s top, something playful, bright, and full of movement. Finally, I enclosed it all beneath a faceted rock crystal cabochon, preserving the layers of memory and meaning within.

For the dangles, I chose pearls—June’s birthstone—to honor my father’s birthday. I’ve always loved the language of numbers, something my dad shared with me. I added eighteen pearls to represent my daughter, my husband, and myself. Each of us were born on the 18th of our month, and the number itself carries spiritual resonance. In many traditions, eighteen symbolizes the moon, a reference I often use when my daughter asks where her grandfather went. “He’s on the moon now,” I tell her.

Eighteen also echoes themes of trinity and divine connection across spiritual texts. It felt right for a piece made to commemorate her baptism, a joining of family, spirit, and memory.

And here is the final result: Cherub’s Eyes Reliquary Earrings, a representation of love, protection, and the unseen threads that bind father and daughter together.

Thanks so much for reading.

Take care for now,

Caitlin