MAKERS | EUROPE | ENGLAND | JEWELRY

Vicki Ambery-Smith | Jewelry Artist

A lifelong observer of architecture, London-based Vicki Ambery-Smith transforms the built environment into delicate, wearable theatrical forms. From Oxford's spires to the sweeping lines of Zaha Hadid, her miniature structures distill centuries of design into silver and gold. Drawing on sources from ancient Greece to American modernism, each piece reflects personal fascination or private commission.

How did you begin?

It started at art school; I did a one-year foundation in Oxford. The whole point of that year was to explore different ways of working: 2D and 3D, surface and color, life drawing, ceramics, even theatre design. That included jewelry making as well.

I went into it thinking I wanted to be a theatre designer, but one of my tutors said, 'You're always distracted by small-scale 3D. That seems to be your natural element.' When we did perspective drawing in the Victorian Museum, I constantly sketched the fiddly bits on top of the pillars rather than the grand view. That stuck with me.

I realised I wasn't interested in jewellery in the traditional sense, at least not gems or diamonds, but small-scale sculptures that happened to be wearable. The architectural theme emerged gradually as I was leaving college. We were encouraged not to look at other jewellers or silverware for inspiration but to extract ideas from the world around us, things that interested us personally.

How did you learn? 

I began drawing buildings and developing ideas from there. At first, I thought, "Well, these buildings are someone else's idea, not mine." But then I realised I wasn't making architecture. I used form and shape as a language. I made one or two rings that I thought were absurd - little buildings on fingers - and had no idea then that they would become the foundation for everything I've made since.

I studied at what was then Hornsey Art School, later Middlesex Polytechnic, for three years. At the time, it was a well-known place for jewellery. I also did a semester in Germany at the Fachhochschule in Schwäbisch Gmünd.

After graduating, I worked for a year in a jewellery manufacturing company, doing a lot of casting. It felt repetitive then, but in hindsight, it was the best thing I could've done, repeating the same process until it became second nature. That year gave me a solid technical foundation.

How do you plan, prepare and execute your works?

A lot of planning goes into each piece. Especially if it's a commission or a ring. For example, the basic ring shaft has to fit the finger precisely because once the architectural elements are soldered on, I can't resize it. Then I draw, sometimes whole pages of sketches. I imagine the design from every angle: how it will sit and how each building will relate in scale, height and balance. 

Only when I'm sure of the composition do I begin making. I usually build from the centre outward, soldering each tower or structure onto the band. I also make card maquettes for the boxes to help them understand their proportions in three dimensions, especially when viewed from above. Silver and gold are more costly than ever, so I can't afford to get it wrong. Once everything's soldered and built, I finish with filing and polishing. I don't like high shine; it reflects too much. I prefer a satin finish, which lets you see the actual shape and detail of the piece. 

Who or what most influences your work?

"The buildings, of course. If someone commissions a piece based on a place special to them, I start with their photos, drawings or memories. Otherwise, I choose buildings I find personally interesting that resonate with whoever is looking at the piece.

But I avoid obscure architecture, something so specific that no one else could connect with it unless it's for a personal commission. Recognition matters; I want people to feel something familiar or evocative when they see it." 

Are there any themes running through your work?

Yes. The architecture itself is the recurring theme. Not literal replication, but interpretation: forms that suggest buildings, cities, eras or even moods.

What does a typical day look like?

I work from the top floor of my house in Muswell Hill, North London. It's a beautiful space, full of light. I'm fortunate. My commute is very short, just up the stairs! I usually start first thing, work through the morning, then go out for a walk or a swim at midday to clear my head.

I return and work through the afternoon, often listening to Radio 4, a podcast or music. I've had people work with me in the past, but I like working independently. I can get on with it and listen to whatever I want: Carole King, Stevie Wonder, Fleetwood Mac…

The joys and challenges of your vocation?

There's so much joy in having work to do, especially making a living. But it's not without challenges. The ebb and flow can be complex. Sometimes, I'm overwhelmed and don't know what to pick up first; other times, I worry about where the next job will come from.

It's rare to have a steady flow of work. It's quiet right now, but London Craft Week is coming up, so I'm preparing for that. Seeing an idea come to life, from sketch to finished piece, is the most rewarding part. There's absolute pleasure in the making.

An object you'll never part with?

My stack of drawings. If the house were on fire, that's what I'd run out with. I've kept almost every design I've ever drawn except for a few that now belong to the V&A. 

I'm sometimes more attached to the drawings than the finished work. They contain the piece's spirit. They're how it all begins.

Interview by Emma Becque 

Images from Vicki Ambery-Smith and Paul Reid