This morning, while walking my dog, I came across a delicate and beautiful plant.
Its small clusters of fuchsia flowers contrasted with deep green leaves covered in tiny raindrops. The way the water shimmered on the surface created a mesmerizing, almost magical effect. For a moment, that plant transformed before my eyes into a jewel —a necklace made of precious stones that could adorn the head of a radiant woman.
Without thinking, I took a photo. And from that moment on, my mind began to spin. I wondered how I could transform that image, that fleeting instant, into a piece of jewelry. Inspiration often appears like that: a casual encounter, an emotion that anchors itself in your memory and compels you to recreate it with your own hands.
Each of my collections is born from such a moment —an emotion, a place, or a person that deeply moves my senses.
The Atempo collection, for example, was inspired by the landscape of my childhood. From my grandmother’s house, I could see the horizon and, in the distance, the outline of Africa. That image stayed with me. Years later, I realized it wasn’t just a landscape; it was also the love and care she gave me. When she was gone, recreating that view through a jewelry collection helped me recover that sense of safety and warmth I always felt in her presence.
That’s how Atempo was born —to capture that ethereal emotion of love and protection, a place I wish I could return to again and again.
For creators, inspiration is a fascinating mystery. Some say it can be trained, and perhaps they’re right. But it’s also true that it often appears when you least expect it. Like a capricious muse, it arrives, touches your soul, and reveals something you can’t help but interpret and transform.
The final jewel is only the visible result.
What’s invisible —the emotion, the memory, the spark— is what gives it life.
