Rubi Ace Designs

13/06/2026

It was an unexpectedly excellent day at the market today! Despite all the doom and gloom in the weather forecasts it didn't rain at all until after 1 pm! Around 4000 shoppers came out, mostly early (smart!) and multiple stalls reported excellent sales. THANK YOU for supporting the stall holders! Let's face it, they came prepared to deal with nasty wind and rain. Instead, it was relatively mild (if you kept moving!) and your "thank you" for their commitment was expressed in sales. See you back at the North Gardens Reserve on June 27! 😀😀😀😀

12/06/2026

song beneath the fig tree

This week I made many pieces, and none of them came easily.

There is misconception that creative life is somehow lighter than others, as though inspiration arrives fully formed and asks nothing of us in return. Making is often an act of persistence rather than ease. Wire resists. Hands ache. Ideas wander away and must be patiently called back. Some days piece seems determined not to exist at all.

While working on this moss agate pendant, I found myself thinking of my grandfather's garden.

As child, I would sit quietly and watch him work. Grapevines hung heavy overhead, filing air with sweetness that seemed richer than any perfume. Fig tree cast its broad shade across yard, and beneath it he would sit repairing nets with deliberate care, his hands moving with confidence of man made of salt and sotne who understood that worthwhile things are rarely rushed. He would sing as he worked. I would listen.

Looking back, I think those moments taught me more about craftsmanship than any book ever could.

This pendant carries some of that memory.

Moss agate reminds me of small fragment of garden held still in stone. Around it I shaped coper by hand, adding leaf and tiny glass flower, allowing design to grow naturally around patterns already present within the gem. Wire is not there to dominate stone, but to accompany it, much as a garden path guides the eye without demanding attention for itself.

What I love most about jewellery is that it becomes part of someone's ordinary life. It catches the morning light while making coffee. It rests against a favourite jumper. It is worn to markets, to dinners, to difficult days and joyful ones alike. Over time it gathers its own history.

Perhaps that is why I continue to make these pieces.

Not because life is easy, but because it isn't.

Garden flourishes because someone tends it. Vine bears fruit because it struggles upward. Artist learns because work asks something of them. Beauty has always seemed to me less a matter of perfection than perseverance.

And so, wire by wire, piece by piece, we continue.

10/06/2026

08/06/2026

Am argument for moment of kindness

Strange thing about life is that we rarely remember the ordinary days. Memory gathers instead around moments of rupture, the sudden crack in the fabric of the familiar.

Last weekend, at Pride Market, I was sitting quietly behind my stall, surrounded by copper, stone, conversation, and the steady tide of strangers passing by. Then came violent crash. Something large fell nearby and sound arrived like thunder at close range.

For a while, I was no longer there. Body has its own ancient wisdom, and sometimes its own ancient fears. It remembers things the mind cannot always name. I folded inward and disappeared into that silent country beyond words.

When I opened my eyes, angel was standing in front of me.

She spoke softly. She told me to breathe.

There was nothing dramatic in it. No grand gesture. Only kindness. Yet I have often thought that kindness is among the most mysterious forces in the world. Gravity pulls upon every stone, but compassion pulls upon the soul. It draws us back from distant places.

I do not know how she noticed me among the crowd. I do not know what she saw. I only know that for a few minutes angel became guardian.

Later in my studio, I returned to my work and finished this pendant.

A circle shaped howlite held within hand-shaped copper, its lines rising and curling like a question carried upward on the wind. As I worked, I found myself thinking that craftsmanship is not the art of controlling a material, but of listening to it. Copper yields only gradually. Every curve is negotiation. Every wrap is small act of patience. finished piece is simply visible record of attention.

White howlite rests inside those copper lines as a moon rests within branches of winter trees. Quiet. Unassuming. Content merely to be.

Perhaps that is what draws me to making things by hand. In world increasingly devoted to speed, handmade object remains testament to slownes. It asks nothing except that someone pause long enough to notice it.

And sometimes, that is enough.