Published on by Olivier Maupas-Sehikyan · Rings
Some commissions begin very simply: a stone placed on the workbench in the workshop, and the silence that follows. That day, a client came to see me in Saint-Sébastien-sur-Loire, near Nantes. She had brought two things: a pear-shaped blue zircon and some gold. No design cut out of a magazine, no sketch. She wanted these materials to become a bespoke ring that truly reflected her, and she was leaving it to me to find the form.
A natural blue zircon and gold, the starting point of a story
I took the zircon between my fingers and turned it under the lamp. Its blue has something alive about it: it shifts with the angle, moving from a deep blue to a paler one, and it returns the light with a liveliness that spoke to me at once. A natural blue zircon has no need to apologise for being neither a sapphire nor a diamond. The depth of its colour and its brilliance more than stand comparison with far better-known stones.
What touched me was her approach. My client had not come to buy a piece of jewellery; she had come to bring one into being from something she already owned. The gold and the stone she gave me already carried something personal, and my role was not to spoil it. We talked at length about what she liked to wear, about how she wanted the stone to be seen, and about what she did not want, too. A bespoke jewellery commission in Nantes always begins this way: with listening, long before the pencil.
The design: two interlaced bands around the zircon
Once our conversation was over, I began to draw. The idea that emerged was two interlaced bands, like two lines that cross without ever losing each other. On these bands I planned diamonds set in grains, small enough to accompany the stone without ever stealing the show. At the centre, a setting designed solely for this zircon, made to the exact measure of its pear shape.
I chose white gold. Its pale, cool tone gives the blue all the space it needs, and it extends the sparkle of the diamonds rather than warming it. With yellow gold, the dialogue of colours would have been quite different. Here, I wanted the eye to go straight to the stone, then wander happily into the brilliance of the bands.
Why a setting designed for a single stone
A pear-cut stone does not tolerate approximation. Its point is fragile, and it is the point that must be protected. So I designed the setting from the stone itself, measuring it, studying its cut, and looking for a way to hold it firmly while still letting the light in. A setting made for this stone, and for no other.
In the workshop: from wax to white gold
Then comes the work of my hands. The model is first carved in wax, which allows me to check the volumes, the interlacing of the two bands and the comfort on the finger before touching the metal. This stage takes time, but it spares many regrets. The wax is then turned into metal by casting, and the raw piece emerges: still rough, yet already recognisable.
It must then be taken up again, filed, its shapes adjusted, and each opening intended for the stones checked to be exactly where it should be. It is a moment when one hardly speaks. One looks, corrects with a breath, and begins again. The piece gains precision, and the central setting gradually becomes what I had drawn.
Setting the grain-set diamonds, then the zircon
Each diamond was set by hand, one after another. Grain setting consists of raising tiny beads of metal on the surface of the ring to hold the stone. It is a very fine gesture, demanding patience and a very steady hand. Well executed, it gives the whole a delicate, almost shimmering texture that accompanies the zircon without overwhelming it.
That leaves the stage I always await with a little apprehension: setting the zircon. The stone is placed in its setting, adjusted, then secured with great care. There is no room for error, and no one reminds you of that better than the stone itself. When it is finally in place, surrounded by its diamonds, I always feel the same emotion: the creation stops being a project and becomes an object. Seeing that blue light caught among the white grains was, for me, the finest reward.
Polishing followed, long and meticulous, so that the white gold regained a crisp finish and the bands slid on without catching. One last check of the claws and the grains, one last look under the loupe, and the ring was ready.
A ring born of trust between a client and her jeweller
This blue zircon and diamond white gold ring is far more than an assembly of materials. It is the fruit of a close collaboration: my client brought the stone, the gold and her vision, and I put my craftsmanship at the service of her wish. Because the materials came from her, the piece has kept an intimate dimension that I could never have created on my own.
I hope this ring will be worn often, loved for a long time, and carry its brilliance through the years. That it might one day be passed on, why not: it is what I hope for every piece that leaves my workshop.
If you, too, own a stone or an old piece of jewellery and are unsure what to do with it, come and see me at the workshop in Saint-Sébastien-sur-Loire. We will take the time to talk about it, simply, over a coffee and with the stone resting on the table.
