Behind the Making at Burbi: A Day in the Life of a Silversmith

My working day usually starts after the school run. Back home, I switch on the heating bath for the pickle salts, which takes about an hour to warm up. While that’s warming, I make a couple of barista-style lattes and some breakfast. What happens next depends on what I’m making and which pieces are already in progress.

There isn’t always a tidy plan. That’s part of what I enjoy.

A workshop with its own rhythm

I work from home, with different areas for different stages of making. There’s a station for soldering, with my torches, gas and oxygen, an area for forming tools, and a separate sanding and polishing station, because that part gets dirty and dusty.

Throughout the day, I might have several jobs on the go. One piece may be ready for sanding while another still needs forming or soldering. Moving between them keeps things interesting.

Much of my material begins as wire and sheet, bought from Birmingham’s Jewellery Quarter and cut to size. I use recycled 925 sterling silver in a wide range of wire gauges and sheet thicknesses, choosing the size to suit each design and the way it will be made.

Before it becomes something to wear, there’s measuring, cutting, shaping and a fair amount of thought.

Sometimes a sketch, sometimes a tangent

Drawings and rough sketches can be a useful starting point, but sometimes I work more freely, letting the piece develop as I go.

A detail gets added. An idea changes. I go off on a tangent. Sometimes it works beautifully; sometimes it doesn’t.

There are days when I’m in a state of flow and things come easily. Other days, there’s a creative block, and the same decisions feel much harder. Making by hand doesn’t mean every day follows the same pattern.

I’ve learnt so much through trial and error. Silversmithing is a completely hands-on trade, and I’m still learning all the time. My next ambition is to learn CAD using Rhino for jewellery design, with Claude, my AI buddy, helping me find my way around the software. There’s always something new to get my head around.

Customers bring ideas, too

Some of the best ideas begin with a customer’s brief.

Someone asks for something to be made, and that conversation sparks a direction I might not have explored on my own. A similar style can then become a favourite with other customers, too.

It’s a lovely part of the job: discovering that something which started with one person’s idea can have a much wider appeal.

Making it once, then making it again

Creating a piece for the first time is one challenge. Being able to make it again, identical or thereabouts, is another.

With handcrafted jewellery, small differences are part of the making. Occasionally, I’ve looked at a one-off piece and wondered quite how I made it that way in the first place.

Sometimes I see something I made years ago and think, “Did I really make that?” In a good way! When you’re absorbed in making the next piece, it’s easy to forget what you’ve already achieved. Seeing an older piece again can be a lovely reminder.

During lockdown, one particular spinning ring became so popular that I grew tired of making it. But there was another side to the repetition: knowing that I was making something customers valued during an anxious time. Spinning rings can be used as a focus for a mindful moment, with the moving band giving the hands something to do. That personal connection made the work more rewarding. It felt like a win-win for both of us.

I haven’t made that ring for a while now, though, and I’m quite excited about returning to it. A break can make a familiar design feel inviting again.

The temptation of another tool

Building a workshop at home comes with its own temptation: buying tools.

I became rather enthusiastic about that part. I was such a good customer at one company in the Jewellery Quarter that they gave me a VIP black card!

Good tools make a real difference to the results. As my father used to say, “You get what you pay for.” Most of mine get used, but some haven’t been used as much as I intended for the pieces I’m making at the moment.

Eventually, my partner had to rein in the spending. There’s always another tool to catch my eye, and it’s very easy to imagine all the things I could make with it.

I love tools so much that they’re always on my birthday and Christmas wish lists. There’s usually another one I’ve got my eye on!

Buying them is only part of it, though. Good tools are worth investing in, and worth taking care of.

Home life, hot summers and cold mandrels

The flexibility of working from home is one of my favourite things about the job. I enjoy being left to my own thoughts, and what I’m listening to depends on what I’m doing in the workshop.

Sometimes it’s an interesting debate on the radio that gets me thinking; other times it’s early Carl Cox house music that brings back memories, much to my neighbours’ delight, I’m sure! Then there are days for chilled-out Ibiza classics. Different jobs, different soundtracks.

Sometimes I prefer the quiet, with just the sound of my tools as I work. Though when the hammer comes out, sometimes the ear defenders do too!

There are less idyllic moments.

In summer, the workshop can already feel like 35 degrees. Most people would put their washing out on the line, but my mother-in-law would come round and switch on the tumble dryer.

“You can’t be serious. Another ten degrees?”

I sometimes wondered if she just wanted me to suffer!

Even the tumble dryer has its upside. I reuse water in two separate ways: collecting water from the tumble dryer’s condenser, and collecting rainwater from the roof in a water butt outside the workshop.

In winter, the mandrels become very cold to handle, and water can freeze. You’d think that would be a better time to welcome the tumble dryer’s warmth, but then there’s the condensation to think about. Moisture is more of a problem in winter, and rusty tools are the last thing I want, so looking after them is part of the work too.

It’s a working space with changing seasons and family life happening around it.

When things go wrong

The hardest part is spending far too much time on something, making a mistake and having to start again.

It’s the lost time that frustrates me. You’ve put those hours into a piece, and suddenly you’re back at the beginning.

There’s a personal side to it, too. My partner has put her faith in me, and the last thing she wants to hear after a mistake is that I need to buy more material. On those occasions, I look to my own pocket. That certainly helps focus the mind.

Working with gold makes me particularly conscious of the material’s value. Every fine grain that falls from the saw blade is handled carefully.

But the material doesn’t necessarily have to be the end of the story. I can melt silver down and use it to create something else. The next piece may go in an entirely different direction.

The moment the silver shines

My favourite part is finishing a piece.

When the early stages have gone well and I can begin polishing, there’s a real sense of anticipation. I use Luxi Yellow for the first polish, then rouge for the final polish to bring out that mirror shine.

After cleaning everything off in the ultrasonic, it still amazes me how shiny silver can become.

That moment, when I can finally see the finished piece clearly, makes all the earlier work worthwhile.

I love silver. Even after making so many pieces, that hasn’t changed.

A psychologist I met on holiday once asked whether I preferred working with silver or gold. I couldn’t give a definite answer at the time, so I said I liked them equally.

These days, I think silver might just win. Gold still makes me nervous because of its value. Perhaps it’s simply that I’ve spent more time working with silver and feel more at home with it. Then again, ask me on another day and I might change my mind. I’m still a little on the fence!

Silver isn’t just lovely to look at, either. It conducts heat and electricity better than any other metal and can be drawn into incredibly fine wire. It even has a role in electric vehicles: Silver Institute estimates put the amount used in a battery-electric car at around 25–50 grams. Quite a versatile material to have sitting on my workbench! Tarnish-free, though? Sadly not. Even pure silver can tarnish.