The very first Venus was named Anna.
I created her for my friend Anna — the person who, years ago, led me to start creating not simply jewelry, but artifacts.
At the time, Anna’s intention was to find the partnership that was right for her. When the Venus was finished, I saw that although the form had been created for one particular person, it somehow reached far beyond a single story.
I asked Anna if I could make a rubber mold of her Venus and create a few others like her. She said yes.
And so Anna became the first Venus of what would later become a collection.
Later, Anna met a man whose name began with the same letter as hers, and it felt like pure magic. Over time, I began noticing similar stories among the women who owned the sisters of her Venus: encounters, relationships, marriages. I don’t know whether there is a connection. But the original intention, and the way I kept seeing it echoed in the stories of different people, has remained a fascinating observation for me.
Two years ago, Anna died.
And now that first Venus is also part of her legacy.
Many other Venuses came after Anna: gold and silver, with stones and without, with crowns, horns, and tails. They changed, sometimes becoming completely different; each acquired a form and a story of her own.
But the first was the Venus I once created for my friend.
Anna.