About Marianne

I didn’t know it at the time, but my passion for designing and making jewellery was born in the strange, otherworldly landscape of the Mojave Desert in southern California, a couple of decades ago.

We visited the quirky desert town of Joshua Tree and, of course, hiked in Joshua Tree National Park. It was there that I first discovered the skeletal remains of the cholla cactus scattered across the golden desert earth, and found myself utterly captivated by their form.

We returned to this desert — and many others — over the years, and each time I encountered these strange pieces of wood, I was entranced. They were saying something to me…

Throughout much of this time, I pursued a full-time career in administration and events management, but designing and making had always been an important part of my life. I took three years out to study for an honours degree in the fine craft of bookbinding before returning to full-time employment. I continued my creative bookbinding practice alongside my career for many years, gaining private commissions and winning prizes in national and international competitions.

It wasn’t until I finally left full-time work in 2018 that, for diversion and fun, I enrolled on a week-long jewellery-making course at City Lit in central London. Before the week was up, I had discovered a profound passion for this new craft.

Metal fascinated me — the alchemy of transforming something hard and seemingly unyielding into an expressive object of my own making. I largely taught myself from there, through study, tuition and a great deal of studio experimentation.

During the second major lockdown in 2021, I began designing and making my first Cholla rings, initially in copper and then in silver. The sheet became heavier, the rings bolder, the metal thicker and harder to work — and gradually a design language began to emerge: sculptural, elemental and unexpected, appealing to both men and women.

I allowed the work time to evolve. What you see on this website is the result of years of experimentation, refinement and subtle revolutions in those early designs, until they felt entirely true to me and to the spirit of the desert.

My creative work has always been about form, longevity and timelessness. I don’t decorate for its own sake or follow current fashions. Detail has to earn its place, complementing rather than overwhelming the form. I want the precious metals to speak of their own exquisite qualities, and for the forms themselves to evoke curiosity.

The cholla has become something of a desert emblem for me. When alive, it is extraordinarily beautiful: seemingly soft and almost furry from a distance (also known locally as the "Teddy Bear Cactus"), yet fiercely armed with thousands of tiny spines. It survives extreme heat, drought and wildfire, and has evolved to defend itself remarkably well against anything that gets too close — humans included.

But beyond its extraordinary form, it is the cholla's resilience that I find so compelling. Its ability to endure and flourish in such a harsh environment is something I both admire and find humbling.

My Cholla jewellery has become, in a sense, a talisman of that resilience — a quiet celebration of strength and endurance.

I wear a piece of the desert every day. Perhaps you might like to take a little of it with you, too.