"We are not one thing, but a set of facets.
And when each one is truly embraced, it finally finds its form."
A story of transformation
I grew up in a home where hands spoke louder than words.
Art wasn't something to be observed from a distance, but a living, daily presence. The sound of fabric being cut, the precise gesture of the needle, the colors on the palette. My mother, my grandmother, my grandfather, and my aunt were tailors. My father painted. I watched them create without yet knowing that I was learning a language. A language made of attention, slowness, and respect for what is born from the hands.
Then life took me elsewhere.
For fifteen years, I worked in intensive care. A contrasting world, where everything is essential, where time compresses, where every gesture has real and immediate consequences. There, I learned a different form of precision: not aesthetic, but necessary.
I learned to stay. To look without averting my gaze. To know the weight of silence between alarms, the responsibility of a tiny detail. My daily tool was the mechanical ventilator, which I knew intimately, like one knows something alive. In those years, I understood what "essential" truly means.
Then movement became my constant.
Since I met Dimi, my husband, life has taken the form of travel. We have crossed different countries, languages, and customs: from Asia to Germany, from Sweden to Athens, where we live today. In this continuous transition, I became a mother to Bianca and Santiago. And with them, everything transformed once again. Time, gaze, body, the way of feeling things.
And yet, within all this movement, there was something that never shifted. A silent space. A memory of hands. A call to matter, to slowness, to the possibility of creating something that wasn't practical, but had meaning.
It was from there that I returned to creation. To porcelain. A material both fragile and strong, which cannot be forced. It demands listening, patience, respect. Each piece is born slowly, one at a time, through repeated and imperfect, never identical, gestures.
I am not looking for perfection. I am looking for presence.
My jewelry is born this way: as small fragments of time transformed into matter. Each form carries a trace of the gesture that created it. And perhaps this is exactly what I have always sought, without knowing it: to give form to something that endures, even in its delicacy.
The Soul of Crisalide
Pottery came about by chance. Or maybe not
It all started one evening with a pottery class. It was a different time, slower, quieter, when I could finally listen to myself.
Something resonated: the hands-on work, the concentration required, the silent satisfaction of seeing the material respond to my hands. It wasn't nostalgia; it was something new that was being built, even if it didn't yet have a precise name.
Then I decided to go to Florence for an intensive course dedicated to porcelain jewelry. And it was there, almost suddenly, that everything became clear with an unexpected force.
All parts of me (the precise and scientific, together with the creative and artisanal) were finally finding a common ground.
Back in Athens, I slowly started to occupy the only available room in the house. I invested my savings in buying a kiln, tools, and materials.
That room was becoming my workshop, and I was becoming something new.
The Birth of Crisαlide
The Crisalide is that phase of silent transformation in which something changes form without losing its essence. It is neither a beginning nor an end: it is the means, the process, the necessary time in which everything is redefined.
This is how Crisalide was born. A space where personal, material, and creative transformation can happen calmly, without forcing it. A place where shaping things slowly has a very precise meaning: quality is not a declared goal, but a natural consequence of the way we work.
Porcelain: a material that takes time
The choice of porcelain was not accidental. It is a material that imposes its own rules: it wants to be heard, it wants slowness, it wants total attention.
In return, it gives something that few materials can provide: a silent, elegant presence, capable of bringing warmth even in its most essential form.
Matter tells a story
Strength in delicacy
Slender, translucent, almost fragile in appearance. Yet extraordinarily resilient when handled with respect. Porcelain always contradicts first impressions, and in this, it tells a deeper truth: delicacy is never weakness. It is a form of strength that knows how to choose its own form.
Heat Transforms
Every piece bears the mark of fire
Firing at 1270-1280 degrees irrevocably transforms the material. There’s no going back; what the kiln has already decided cannot be corrected. It is this irreversibility that makes every firing an act of faith: a moment when control is relinquished.
The hand leaves its mark
Imperfection as Value
No two items are identical. Small variations in surface, color, texture: these are not defects, they are the signature of craftsmanship. They are how the material silently reminds us that behind it there is a hand, a moment, a specific person.
Each piece is ready to accompany your person
Explore the Crisalide collection and choose the piece that belongs to you. Or write to me to customize your jewel.