I'm an artist first.
Jewelry was one chapter. Vinyl opened another. Somewhere along the way, all of it started connecting.
Music came first. Making was always right there with it.
I grew up in Philadelphia drawing, making things and surrounded by music. I didn't know any of it was leading somewhere. I just knew I was happiest when I was making something with my hands or finding the next piece of music I wanted to hear.
This was artwork I made for my graduating class at St. Hubert's. Long before reVinyled, I was already looking for something I could turn into the next thing.
Before the first record was ever cut.
Music, hemp, clay, road trips and a jeweler's bench. None of it felt connected yet.
The Music Kid
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Finding My Community
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Following the Music
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Finding My Craft
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Making My Way
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Jewelers' Row
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Then one broken record changed the track.
I wasn't trying to invent a business. I was trying to make something.
One idea turned into a much bigger story.
The earrings were the beginning. They were never the whole idea.
One Broken Record
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Three Strangers and a Vending Buddy
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Handmade, Always
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A Bigger Canvas
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Back to the Bench
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Still Spinning
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I wasn't trying to start reVinyled.
I was experimenting. Then I put the earrings on and walked out the door. Three strangers stopped me to ask where I got them.
That little moment is still one of my favorite parts of this whole story. The idea worked before I'd even decided what to do with it.
One material. A lot of directions.
Earrings opened the door. I kept walking through it.
Some customers became collectors.
They come back looking for certain artists, labels, colors and records. They tell me where they wore them and who stopped them.
The record starts the conversation.
The music doesn't disappear when I cut the record. That's actually the part I'm trying to hold onto.
I grew up loving records, but it wasn't only about listening to them. I loved looking at them too. The album covers, the artwork and especially the labels. There are so many great old record labels. The colors, the fonts, the logos, all those little details tell you something about when and where that record came from.
When I make reVinyled, I compose around the label. The vinyl is my material, but the label is the focal point. That's the part that carries the artist, the song, the record company and so much of the history.
I don't want to cut all of that away. I want you to still be able to look at the finished piece and see where it came from.
“They're so lightweight, I forget I'm wearing them until someone compliments me.”
An Artist With a Jeweler's Hands.
Vinyl may not be a traditional jewelry material, but the hands working with it were trained at a jeweler's bench.
My years in fine jewelry taught me to look closely, work deliberately and care about the details people may never notice. How something is cut. How an edge feels. How a hole is placed. How a piece hangs, moves, wears and holds up over time.
I don't think I could have figured out reVinyled without learning all of those things first. The material asked me to work differently, but the standards came with me.
Every piece still passes through a jeweler's hands.
See the Process
The bench never really left the story.
I still make custom fine jewelry. Wedding bands, sentimental pieces and one-of-a-kind work let me return to the skills I learned on Jewelers' Row while bringing everything I've learned since then with me.
Sometimes those worlds stay separate. Sometimes vinyl becomes part of the jewelry itself. Either way, it all comes from the same hands.
The earrings were the beginning.
I have a lot more ideas for where these records can go next.
A Bigger Canvas
A whole record gives me room to tell a much bigger story.
The Covers Get Another Life Too
The vinyl was never the only part of the record worth saving.
Your Music. Your Story.
Some ideas need to start with the person instead of the record.
Fine Jewelry + Vinyl
Two parts of my creative life are getting closer.
I will never put machines over people.
If reVinyled grows, I want it to grow by bringing people into the work. I learned because craftspeople let me stand beside them, ask questions, use the tools and build the skill with my own hands.
There are parts of this process I can teach and skills worth passing on. Growth should create room for more hands, more ideas and more people, not remove them from the process.
Music deserves another spin.
They're stories. They're conversations. They're memories. They're connection. And every record still has something left to say.