Hand engraver and jeweler Castro Smith translates people's personal histories into modern amulets that take the wearer into a world of magic, metaphor, and mythology.

Castro Smith&rsquo;s email signature incorporates the fine print &ldquo;Lord Of The Rings Limited.&rdquo; At first, it seems like a geeky ode to the beloved Tolkien classic, but the more you learn about his trade, the more you&rsquo;ll realize the code of honor governing his practice.
 To create rings and other objects of desire, it takes dogged perseverance and painstaking attention to detail. Like Frodo and his cohorts, Smith and his team bear the responsibility of transmitting ideas into accessories that empower their wearer. Lucky for the realm of fashion &mdash; this creative mission landed in the right hands: hands that can pinpoint the right amount of pressure to engrave lines that form a language so personal, so close to the skin, that they&rsquo;re almost like tattoos.
 I try his rings over brunch. True to the hype surrounding his work, his rings are unlike the usual trinkets we adorn ourselves with. They&rsquo;re not only for show. They&rsquo;re mysterious readings clutching someone&rsquo;s secrets.
 I ask Smith, &ldquo;How do you come up with all this?&rdquo; He reveals, &ldquo;I usually work directly with my customer &mdash; talking about the symbols and stories that will narrate around the ring. It's about bringing these elements together from the drawing so the craftwork can play its role, and we can start making. We always need a little change and leverage for how something unfolds. My drawings are not technical; they are interpretative. [However], metal has its own language and luster that the paper never speaks.&rdquo;

Tell me about your recent trip to the Philippines. I could do with some downtime at home but I'm counting my blessings too in a mad time. I&rsquo;ve been lucky enough to travel to Italy this year with one of my craftsmen on a training course in Italy. It was a course on engraving and stone-setting at one of the oldest craft schools in Italy, and we were lucky to meet with a small group of makers from around the world who were all quite exceptional. It brought us all out of our cave dens because craftsmen are naturally cave-dwellers and troglodytes. Pre-COVID, I got FOMO that people were outside enjoying the sun, and I'm inside, carving a little piece of metal into a landscape of symbols. But the pandemic did change my life in many aspects during that time. My lola passed away, and although I had recently enjoyed making enough to go back to Mindanao every year, the pandemic put a stop to that for almost four years. And in absence, the heart longs for something more, and for me, part of that was the other half of my family and home &mdash; realizing how much my lola meant. This trip was a search and realizing that my lola was a big part of that idea of home and identity, and a big part of my soul too.
 How do you stay connected with your Filipino heritage? Tell me more about your family. My family is from Mindanao, originally from Camiguin Island, the Bonbon and Tia families. For the most part, it&rsquo;s a strong matriarchy. We are a big mix of mostly nurses. Of course, I was proud to say that in the pandemic, my cousins were working flat out.
 I heard about your aunties thinking your other aunties are witches. Does this reality strike you as a cognitive dissonance, especially for someone who lives in a modern city like London? I love the mix of myths and magic in reality even if it's just said in jest or a joke among the layers of modern life because all those stories have their place and meaning in the human condition. Just understanding someone has lady luck on their side can be believable to the most logical. But for the older generation of my family, witches and curses are very real.
 You mentioned building something together with Victor Magsaysay. What are you planning to do? Victor and I had connected online long ago knowing we are somewhat kindred spirits. We spoke about a lot of our experiences during the pandemic including love and loss. We also spoke about Filipino identity and aesthetics and how there's a real &ldquo;zeitgeist&rdquo; right now &mdash; a sort of coming together of a nebula into a galaxy of what means to be Filipino.

Was jewelry design something you actively pursued since your youth or was it a stroke of chance that got you to where you are now? It was a stroke of chance [with the aid of] long nights of Red Bull and a few good champions who helped me along the way. I was always drawing at a young age and was academically challenged at school. I guess if you are like that long enough, the options begin to narrow. I traveled to London to find work from where I lived in the north of England. After a few years of bar work, I found a job as an apprentice. I was a little too old for the role that's usually taken up at 16 to 20, but I picked up the role quickly as my years drawing as a kid [helped]. I eventually left my role in search of more creative freedom as my work didn&rsquo;t pay well. I found funding to explore and hone my craft with the Winston Churchill Trust. There &mdash; I trained with Kenji Io, a great metalsmith from Japan. Dickon Bowden, who runs Dover Street Market, found me online through my engraving and artwork. Upon returning home, I worked from my bedroom making rings for them until I finally found a place at Sarabande Foundation which was a residency program. Now I have a team at Cockpit Arts Studios.
 You create timeless pieces that are in stark contrast with the trendiness of the fashion industry. What&rsquo;s your relationship with fashion like? For me, I get to keep out of the rat race. It's all about just speaking the right story for the right person. It's just about who they are and what they want to remember rather than becoming something new. There are rings for that too but that change is less about trends and more about a positive change from within or overcoming something and creating a kind of celebration of that becoming.
 Do you notice certain patterns or values that define the Filipino aesthetic? For me, the strength of a Filipino mother is a clear driving force of being Filipino. Also, the patterns of weaving bamboo and this idea of [building] strength by the [juxtaposition] of many styles and timeframes together. Even our language is a weave of thoughts from Chinese, Spanish, and other native tongues.
 You want to build a studio in Camiguin. What makes the Philippines an attractive spot for you right now? I'd like to build something in the Philippines. It's always been a dream to somehow create a studio here with a tight group we can nurture creative links shared in both homes perhaps to exchange knowledge in craft too.

It's all about just speaking the right story for the right person.&nbsp;

Some people consider your work as a talisman. Do they have the same effect on you? Are they more protective or provocative? What&rsquo;s the effect of metalwork on your headspace? They are completely protective. For me, its utmost importance is what it means for the customer. I become an interpreter of their dreams and what they identify with. It's not about getting what I want across or my perspective, but of course, they have come to me for my style of work, and I'm not even sure what that is but it's there. The process is always unfolding. It doesn&rsquo;t always work when I think it will and sometimes it's vice versa, and that always surprises me. I&rsquo;ve been lucky to develop my practice. They are all short stories.
 You learned from experience and masters of your craft, but who and what are your influences outside jewelry design? I&rsquo;m a big gamer and movie fan whether it's from Tim Burton or Yoshitaka Amano or the choreography of Pina Bausch or DV8 the contemporary dance group. I&rsquo;d love to go into animation and even be a dancer. I&rsquo;d love to do concept artwork for both mediums.
 As someone who approaches his art based on the malleability of materials &mdash; what do you think is more important in creative leadership: softness or hardness? It's always a mix &mdash; like yin and yang between days. Sometimes it&rsquo;s all about hardness because I have to work with discipline and resilience to get through deadlines and maintain quality. But I feel that learning always requires tenderness, and in that comfort, we can make mistakes and learn without fear. [As much as we have] to be fluid and change and accept new ideas, we also have to take form and make bold decisions as a designer. It's like being a red rose that&rsquo;s bold, tender, and resilient during the winter that becomes deadly with thorns when there's a threat.

Man and His Symbols: See How Castro Smith Gets Personal When Engraving Jewelry

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