Punk Sailor: jewelry with instinct, edge, and soul

Someone said to me the other day:
"I love your pieces… they are nautical punk."
And I smiled inside.

Because they had just put into words something I had carried with me for a long time.
I had thought it. Felt it.
But no one had ever said it that way.

 

 

Punk sailor.
The sea. The instinct. The edge.
That way of doing things without asking.

Not noise. Not rebellion for show.
Just truth.
The need to create from where it burns. Without trying to fit. Without filters.
To set limits.
To say this is what I make — and not explain it.

Spikes, after all, are also a way to protect.

 

 

Some of my pieces have that.
A sharp point, a rough texture, a silent strength.
They carry their own kind of elegance.
Not to decorate.
But to express.

 

 

There’s something Miuccia Prada said that I agree with:
"Being elegant is the easiest. Being interesting is much harder."

I never wanted my pieces to be just elegant.
I want them to feel.
To reflect something raw, something real.
To speak without words.

 

 

I create with honesty — that’s how I end up seeing myself in what I make.
Not the polished version.
The whole version.
What’s in shadow and what’s in light.
And maybe that’s why some people connect with what I do.
Because feelings—though lived in solitude—are universal.
And when the timing is right, we meet on the same frequency.

That’s what I feel when I see the work of Kawakubo, Yamamoto, Margiela, Van Noten...
I see echoes of the same need. Different voices. Same undercurrent.

 

 

There’s no need to follow trends when you follow your pulse.
No need to explain what’s made from necessity.

I don’t make noise. I make meaning.