How to create your (emotional) armour with Esky Safrash

Based in France, ESKY SAFRASH is an independent jewellery and accessory brand founded by Esky, whose practice initially centred around performance art, poetry, and object-making before evolving into experimental jewellery making shaped by a diverse cultural heritage. Through its creations, ESKY SAFRASH explores and redefines the lost roots of talismans within today’s matrix, questioning one’s sense of belonging in a shifting cultural landscape. 

Start with a wound.

Begin with damage and make it your inspiration. Take a raw, shapeless memory and feed it to the forge.

Choose your metal (water signs edition).

Steel: Disobedient and stubborn. It won’t move until you bleed for it. Scorpio.

Brass: Loud, opulent, loves a good tarnish moment. Serving burnout. Pisces.

Silver: Seductive, haunted, soft until it snaps. Wears your fingerprint like an accusation. Cancer.

Design with protection in mind (but not practicality).

Sketch like you’re building a tenderness weapon. Ask yourself, ‘Will it defend my solitude and silence a room?’

Edges matter—nothing sacred was ever ergonomic.

Make it sharp, loud, unwearable in daylight.

Prepare the sacred studio (ritualise your space).

If you are like me, always in a rush, clearly skip this step and make it work in your head—delusion is key.

More seriously, burn something (esfand, hair, the past).

And always wear protection 😉 

Let the tools break you.

Hammer until your wrists go numb. Sand until you forget your government name.

When the solder floods wrong, the shape collapses, letting the metal win.

A piece that doesn’t fight back is not worth finishing. The ritual is complete when your fingertips are scorched and your intentions are pure chaos. 

Declare it a statement.

Name it, preferably mixing Farsi with Italian or another mix that you manage. 

Make it longer than a Lana Del Rey song title.

Cite a theorist you barely understand. 

Add a metaphor that no one asked for. They’ll nod. They’ll quote it. You’ll know it’s armour.

Test your armour in public.

Wear it somewhere appropriate.

Let it clang. Let it slow you down.

If someone stares, say nothing. If they ask whether it’s safe, reply, “Mind your business, fashion is painful.” This is not jewellery. It’s a boundary enforcement.

Repeat until you no longer feel anything.

You finish. You rest. You scroll. You hate it. You start again.

You think you’re building protection, but really, you’re building delusional self-mythology.

Eventually, the ritual becomes the work.

And when the next wound appears, top yourself.