The House
There's a girl in every woman
who's been told to play small.
These are the pieces she wears the day she stops.
The house was made by hand. The first piece was a diamond drop pendant — meant for a tennis necklace I already owned. The chain I wanted didn't exist. So I made it. Then I made the next one. Then I stopped looking for what already existed.
Shannon Zackary is a house of one-of-ones. Every piece is the only piece. Some take six months. None get repeated. The work is loud. The hand is mine.
What we make.
Rubies, hearts, hands. Stones with a window you don't see twice. Pieces that carry the room when she walks into it.
We don't make jewelry for the woman who wants to blend. We make it for the one who's decided not to.
How we make it.
Slowly. By hand. With stones I've chosen, sometimes argued for, sometimes sat on for months until I knew what they wanted to be. The setting comes last. The stone is the conversation.
