For the longest time, I didn't really think of myself as a jeweler.
In my head, a "proper jeweler" had years of formal training. They'd apprenticed under a master, had a degree in art or jewelry making and could do absolutely everything themselves.
That wasn't me. I didn't have an art degree, a master's in jewelry making or years as an apprentice. Just a couple of online certificates and a few in-person classes here and there. So despite designing and making jewelry for a living, I felt like a bit of an imposter.
Then one day I told a friend I was taking a ring to the Diamond District to have the stone set by a "proper jeweler."
She looked at me and said, "Aren't you a proper jeweler?"
I had to sit with that one for a while. Because the uncomfortable truth was, I wasn't entirely sure why I thought I wasn't.
I started making jewelry in 2009. It's now 2026, which means I've been doing this for 17 years. I design jewelry. I make jewelry. This is quite literally my job. And yet I was still waiting to earn some imaginary qualification.
Being a Jeweler Doesn't Mean Doing Everything
Part of the problem was that I'd decided outsourcing certain parts of the making process made me less qualified.
It doesn't.
The more I've learned about jewelry making, the more I've realized it would be almost impossible for one person to master every part of it.
Take stone setting. I set some stones myself. But certain stones, particularly those going into engagement rings, I send to a setter who sets stones day in, day out. That's his specialty and he's spent years getting exceptionally good at it.
And even within stone setting, there are specialties. Someone who spends most of their time setting diamonds can get used to being fairly firm, because diamonds are hard enough to take it. Give that same setter a softer stone like an amethyst and the technique and touch need to change.
So even among professional stone setters, some are better suited to certain stones, settings and techniques than others. Which makes me wonder whether stone setters ever look at each other and think, "Well, they're a proper stone setter." Apparently none of us are immune.
Why wouldn't I want the person with the right experience setting an important stone? And does sending it to him make me less of a jeweler?
I don't think it does.
Expertise Doesn't Mean Nothing Goes Wrong
Which brings me to the stone I chipped recently, setting a London blue topaz in one of my Square Layer Rings.
Yep. I did that. I was setting it myself and it chipped. There may have been some rather choice language involved.
But here's the thing. My stone setter has chipped stones too. In all the years I've been sending work to him, I can remember it happening twice. One was my own stone. The other was a customer's green tourmaline marquise that already had a small crack, which the customer knew about. I was able to source a replacement that matched it exactly.
It's a risk. Stone setting involves tiny tolerances and real pressure on materials that, despite being hard, are not indestructible. You can be very good at what you do and something can still go wrong. That doesn't mean you don't know what you're doing.
Experience reduces the risk. It doesn't magically remove it. More importantly, experience teaches you what to do when something does go wrong.
That's one of the things I understand much better after 17 years. Mistakes happen. Sometimes they're yours, sometimes they're someone else's and sometimes things simply don't go to plan. You can dwell on them, or you can work out what happened, fix what you can and learn something from it.
Preferably after the swearing.
And Then There's Casting
People ask me fairly regularly whether I cast my own pieces.
I absolutely do not. I leave that to people who know exactly what they're doing.
For one thing, I don't want to set fire to my house. I also don't fancy finding out what that would do to my insurance premiums.
Fire hazards aside, casting is an entire skill in itself. Porosity, incomplete fills, getting the alloy ratios right... there are plenty of ways to end up with a casting you can't use. Then there's the equipment, materials, space, time and experience it takes to get it right every single time. If you're curious what actually happens during the process, I've written about how lost wax casting brings new life to family gold.
Have I taken a course in wax carving and casting? Yes. Is that partly how I decided I don't want to do my own casting? Also yes.
Jack of All Trades, Master of None
There's a reason that saying exists. Jewelry making involves an enormous number of specialized skills: design, CAD, fabrication, soldering, casting, stone setting, polishing, engraving and probably another dozen I've forgotten while writing this.
Being a jeweler doesn't mean I have to be the best person in the room at every one of them. In fact, part of getting better at what I do has been recognizing where my skills are strongest and where someone else's expertise will produce a better result.
I can solder with a little kitchen butane torch. I don't need one of those fancy gas torches, thank you very much.
I can design in CAD. I can fabricate jewelry by hand. I can set stones, albeit with the occasional reminder not to get too cocky.
And because I'm also running a business, I do my own bookkeeping, taxes, marketing, packaging, photography and social media.
Am I a master of all of those? Absolutely not.
But I'm beginning to think being a professional isn't about knowing how to do absolutely everything. It's about knowing your craft, continuing to learn and knowing when to trust another skilled person with something they do better than you. And it's about accepting that, however long you've been doing something, occasionally you're going to get it wrong. What matters is what you do next.
So, Aren't You a Proper Jeweler?
To anyone starting out in this industry who has ever thought they aren't really a jeweler because there's a technique they can't do, don't enjoy or choose to outsource: it doesn't make you less of one.
I realize now that when my friend asked me, "Aren't you a proper jeweler?", she wasn't really asking a question. She already thought I was.
She was planting a seed. She wanted me to question why I didn't think I was one, sit with that for a while and eventually come to the conclusion she'd already reached.
It only took me 17 years.
So... I am a proper jeweler.
If you'd like to see what 17 years of making, learning, occasionally swearing and knowing when to call in another expert have led to, take a look at my custom jewelry work.
About the Author
Joanne Simmons is a jeweler and designer at Silver Sculptor in Jersey City, New Jersey. She has made jewelry since 2009, is a GIA Applied Jewelry Professional and holds the Jewellers Academy Diploma in Fine Jewelry. Her work is sold at the Store at the Museum of Arts and Design in Manhattan and has won two Instore Design Awards.