Working with Stone

For me, carving is not just a craft—it’s a relationship. Each piece begins with a moment of meeting—often in nature, when a stone first makes itself known. That first contact can feel like a quiet recognition—a subtle exchange that leaves me with deep respect and admiration for the beauty held within. Some stones want to stay where they are; others come with me.

As a dear friend once said, “We are the hands and feet of the stone.” With a gentle step and a sure hand, I aspire to create taonga that carry the frequency of that untouched stone—the mauri of its pure journey through fire and water.

As I work the stone, the stone works me. That was something my mentor, Daryl Munro, taught me early on. He is instrumental in my learning of the craft—a Kiwi legend in his own right—and that wisdom still echoes through everything I make. He also instilled in me a deep respect for the Stone of the Gods, and that’s why I take such care to honour the sacred materials I am gifted.

I don’t see these taonga as just jewellery, but as carriers of presence—each with its own tone, its own story. Every stone holds a unique frequency, and often that frequency calls not to the head, but to the heart. That feeling—a pull toward a particular piece—is something many people speak of. It’s not always easy to explain, but it’s deeply felt.

The human heart field resonates naturally with Pounamu. When the two come into harmony, we can access Te Wai Pounamu—the pure stream of consciousness. Some say it’s a stargate.

I believe in the quiet intelligence of stone, and in the way certain pieces seem to call to the heart. When a taonga is shaped with care and presence, it carries something of that with it. People often feel a pull toward the one that’s right for them—and in that connection, meaning is made.