Twilight Trinkets

Twilight Trinkets was born after dark in Statesboro, Georgia, at a workbench lit by one small lamp, because that's when I do my best work — the house quiet, the day put away, nothing left to distract me. I've always been pulled toward wearable art: pieces that don't just sit on you, but carry a little piece of the natural world against your skin. Almost everything I make starts the same way, with something I noticed outside at night that I couldn't stop thinking about until I'd shaped it in metal.

Luna moths keep finding me at the moments that matter. They've appeared, uninvited, right before nearly every real turning point in my life — quiet, pale, easy to miss if you're not paying attention — and every time, change followed close behind. I don't make them because they're pretty, though they are. I make them as a small promise to whoever wears one: transformation is already on its way, even if you can't see it yet.

The stars are where the stress of the day actually leaves me. Something about working under them turns everything I'm carrying into focus instead, and the focus turns into a piece I'm proud of. Moths and moons and stars are simply beautiful to me — but I want the pieces to feel like more than pretty. Classy, a little complex, entirely their own. Something that feels as special on you as it did the night I made it.