From Medicine to Metal: My Journey as a Healing Artist
There's something poetic about how life leads us down unexpected paths. After a particularly draining day at the clinic last spring, I found myself sitting at my workbench, feeling the weight of the sterling silver in my hands, and realizing that I had finally found my balance.
As a primary care practitioner, I spend my days healing others. But who heals the healer? For me, the answer came unexpectedly through metal and stone.
What began as "just a hobby" to escape the stress of medical practice has blossomed into something that feeds my soul in ways I never anticipated. My husband jokes that I traded one career for another, but there's truth there—both medicine and metalsmithing require precision, patience, and presence.
Our weekends now revolve around adventures that fuel my creativity. Last summer, we hiked through the Shoshone National Forrest in Northern Wyoming, where I discovered the most incredible jasper, its rusty reds and oranges mimicking the sunset we watched from our campsite that evening. By the following weekend, that stone had become a statement ring that has become one of my own. I just can’t seem to let it go.
There's nothing quite like the thrill of spotting a promising stone half-buried in mountain soil or beach sand. My husband has become my partner in this creative venture—his lapidary skills transforming our rocky treasures while I dream up settings that honor each stone's journey.
I've come to see that turquoise and larimar speak to me differently depending on the season or even my mood. Sometimes I crave the grounding earthiness of copper, other days only the bright clarity of sterling silver will do. Occasionally, someone will bring me special stones or gems that they have come across while on vacation. Recently, I made a 25th anniversary set for a very sweet couple out of thulite. His a hollow form ring and hers a double banded ring. The thulite was an amazing shade of dark pink. It came from an adventure that they took to Bergan Norway.
What makes my heart sing is knowing that each piece carries a story—not just mine, but soon yours too. When a client tells me they wore their pendant to a job interview for courage or that their bracelet reminds them to pause and breathe during hectic moments, I feel that same satisfaction that comes from a successful diagnosis.
My jewelry sits at the intersection of wild places and everyday life. It's designed for people like me—those who climb mountains on Saturday and lead meetings on Monday, who need pieces versatile enough to complement hiking boots and heels alike.
In medicine, we talk about treating the whole person. In my metalwork, I create for the whole life—pieces that transition seamlessly between worlds while keeping you connected to the healing power of nature, no matter where your day takes you.
What started as refuge has become revelation. These pieces aren't just jewelry; they're reminders of balance, adventure, and finding extraordinary beauty in ordinary places—something we could all use a little more of, don't you think?
