I’m so proud to share two one-off pieces presented with Rossana Orlandi during Milan Design Week in Milan.

Figurehead Chandelier and Venus Candleholder are both handmade – through material, memory, and a very patient process of making.

I’ve always been drawn to the ocean and the quiet act of collecting. As a child, I would spend hours walking along the shoreline, searching for something rare. I was fascinated by the transformation of objects that have been underwater for years – the way coral and seagrass slowly take over, giving new life under the deep blue sea and forever changing their expression.

The ceramic elements are vintage, already carrying a past life. I love that nothing begins from zero – instead, it is about continuing a story that already exists. The gold becomes a way of giving life again, highlighting what was once forgotten or still.

At the center of Figurehead Chandelier is an antique bust, holding light in its gilded arms. Each arm carries its own small world of shells, fish, and flowers – cast in silver and gilded in 18ct gold. Many of the shells are ones I’ve gathered over the years.

Everything is assembled slowly, layer by layer – a process that mirrors erosion, growth, and transformation. Nothing is rushed.

Venus Candleholder continues this story – a softer echo of the same underwater universe.

I have always been drawn to the unseen.
The networks and systems that live quietly, hidden beneath the surface, yet hold the power to sustain life. Mushrooms, bees, and mycelium – each in their own way – embody resilience, collaboration, and a wisdom far older than our own.

At this year’s Enter Art Fair, I returned with The Gold Beneath Our Feet – an installation that carried my ongoing exploration of mushrooms and nature’s silent intelligence. Each sculpture began as part of my Unwearable Jewelry series: first shaped in bronze, then silver-plated, and finally covered in a layer of 24-carat gold. Handmade and unique, no two pieces are ever the same. They are one-of-a-kind – like mushrooms themselves, growing in infinite variation, never repeating their form.

For me, these golden mushrooms were never just objects. They became symbols: of fragility and strength, of healing and balance, of the beauty found in what is often overlooked.

My fascination with mycelium has always been more than artistic – it feels like a metaphor for life itself. These invisible threads beneath the forest floor connect roots, nourish ecosystems, and even hold the potential to heal honeybees. In their quiet work, I see a story about connection, survival, and renewal.

Looking back, I am proud that this work invited people into that story. Visitors paused, looked closer, and reflected on the fragile balance that sustains us all. For a moment, the fair became a place of stillness and wonder – a reminder that what lies beneath is what keeps us alive.