There's a lightness to this one, like something caught mid motion, not quite settled. We wanted a piece that felt less like metal and more like breath, like the copper hadn't decided yet what shape to be. Every strand here is drawn thin and hammered by hand, then woven in and out of the next until they hold each other up. No solder holds the pattern together, just tension, patience, and about a dozen strands finding their place. It takes longer than most pieces we make. People have worn copper against their skin for thousands of years, long before anyone thought to explain why. We've watched the same people come back to us year after year, never quite able to say what it does, only that they keep reaching for it. We hope this one finds someone who likes things a little unsettled, a little alive. It's yours whenever you're ready.
