This is my first post – so, you’ll have to excuse me if I didn’t look too far for a good place to start. This week marked the 5th year my wife and I have been married. So far, we’ve successfully disguised the plain fact of being poor by advertising a tradition of never giving each other gifts – but after 5 years, I felt like the the jig was up and it was about time to remind her of just how much I cared.
In a dusty drawer has sat this beautiful, naturally colored aquamarine cabochon for as a long as I’ve known her. It’s her birthstone – and every time I’ve stumbled upon it, there’s been some compelling reason in our checkbook to put it right back where I found it. This was definitely the gemstone to use, and because it’s an especially big one, sketching out ideas on how it could be set called for real creativity.
In February 2006 a magical coalescence of airfare giveaways and hotel booking glitches gave way to a trip to Paris and a stay at the Paris Hilton. Taking a long-time girlfriend along this route and not proposing, I’ve heard, is a very, very bad idea. And so there it was, on a park bench in the Champ du Mars in a quiet, cold evening, where I proposed.
As I’m sure most tourist do, I remember zeroing my camera in on all the little Art Nouveau and Deco details the city had to offer. Motifs of all sorts stuck with me, and I wanted this anniversary ring to resonate the style and surroundings of that trip – or at least I remembered it.
Art Nouveau motifs much like those scattered about the urban landscape of Paris
There was another nagging Parisian element I wanted to include, knowing all too well that incorporating it too overtly would equal ‘tacky.’ I’m talking about the Eiffel Tower. Taking cues from the long, gracefully organic lines characteristic of Art Nouveau, the most recognizable angles of this monument could be stylized and incorporated into the function of the ring.And so it was – pen to paper:
Rough conceptual sketch for the piece, pulling from distinctly Parisian-Nouveau design cues. Also, nailing the look of the Eifel tower without it appearing as a kitschy bottle opener called for some bold lines but otherwise ambiguous detailing.
From rough drafts to a 3D virtual model, more real-world measurements we’re required for an exact fit. Unfortunately for me, in addition to having as much luck working on a CAD interface as maneuvering a NASA moon rover, I’m a terribly broad-stroke, conceptual thinker. Math makes the head hurt. Luckily, my college Kelsey is a whiz on Matrix, the industry premier design software. So, with the bones layed-out, this ring fast became clearly infeasible.
CAD rendering of the piece revealed subtle design flaws to be overcome.
The aqua cabochon in this piece was especially tall, which gave the gemstone it’s rich depth of color and shimmering cat-eye affect, but also presented a challenge in setting it gracefully. It became apparent that if prongs were to hold this center stone tight, they’d have to be massive, and even then the gemstone eventually could come loose with daily wear. Caught by the discriminating eye of a master jeweler, it would require a full bezel setting – where the gemstone is completely encased at the bottom with a lip of metal. It’s a setting that ensures a lifetime of confident wear, but like so many things revered for their sturdy durability, it can also look kind of ugly. So we didn’t lose the prongs, after all, but instead kept them for the demure, decorative look for which they were intended.
Next, a model would need to be created. Typically model replicas are carved of wax, placed into a plaster casing and melted out to reveal hollow spaces with matched complexity for precious metals to be poured into and set (e.g., lost-wax casting). But carving a ring like this one takes a lot of talent and time – a combination that almost always results in a lot of money!
Instead, this model was actually grown, using a 3D printer that follows the X, Y, and Z data of a given object and builds it up microscopic layer by layer. It’s a really awesome process that I previously elaborated on elsewhere.
Resin molds grown quickly, efficiently, and relatively cheaply.
With model in hand, it was to the casting machine. I decided to have this ring cast in palladium – an increasingly popular precious metal found in the earth alongside platinum and maintains that super-white luster without the density and subsequent cost of platinum. What’s more, I knew I was going to want to see a mix of high polish and sandblast finishes on the final piece, and palladium would hold these finishing touches over time much better than a white gold alternative.
Pictured above is the casting sprue with the ring and prongs cast separately to preserve the crisp detail featured in the grown model. Though pictured with the center stone to visualize the fit and final look, it was not cast in place as is typical with mass-produced pieces.
Casting to clean-up: I was lucky to have the same masterful gem-setter who made my engagement ring as a neighbor in the work shop and so it was on his shoulder I tapped for help finishing this ring out. Teal diamonds were hand selected to be bead-set around the top. I’ve always wanted an excuse to use color-treated diamonds – those gemstones which are baked at a variance of ultra-hot temperatures to achieve an array of stunning shades – and this little project was the perfect time to do it.
My colleague Jason is the go-to man for fine bead setting.
Finally seeing the finished ring quenched my anxious doubt. I had grown worried that what looked good on paper would be an eye-sore on the hand – a real car wreck of a gift. And yet, it all worked beautifully, I must say.
Apart from finally gifting the ring over some wine the other night, perhaps the most satisfying part of this project was having so many talented hands on it, all without taking notice of its most notable characteristic: The Eiffel Tower.
The profile, when view right side up, captures an organic, Nouveau-inspired aesthetic. But turned upside down, and it’s an unmistakable Parisian icon.
To reinforce the meaning of this ring, the bench where it all began is referenced with inside engraving.
As they say in French, ‘Shazam!’
