What makes something an heirloom?

On heirloom, materials, memory, and why an APS piece is more than jewellery.

The dictionary says an heirloom is something of special value, handed down from one generation to another.

But somewhere along the way, we decided special value meant monetary value. Gold. Diamonds. Things that could be appraised, insured and locked away.

I want to offer a different definition.

Yaadgiri

My grandmother, my Baa, had a word for it; Yaadgiri. She would say here is something to remember me by. When you wear this, think of me. She didn't say this is worth something. She didn't say keep it safe. She said, when you wear this, you'll think of me.

That's the definition I've been working from, even before I knew it.

An heirloom isn't about what something is worth. It's about what it means. Not what it's made from but the energy carries.

When my Baa passed, the gold she left me became everything. My only tangible connection to her. I held onto those pieces so tightly, not just because of their value, but because I could feel her in them. And somewhere in that grief, without even realising it, I placed gold on a pedestal.

I told myself precious meant precious metal, and its taken me a long time to see that I was doing the same thing with my practice- creating Yaadgiri.

When the meaning takes over

My pieces aren't made from gold. They're laser-cut acrylic and wood but this doesn't mean they are not 'valuable'.

People started telling me their stories of when they wore my pieces. Suzanne wore custom APS pieces on her wedding day, those piece are now woven into one of the most important memories of her life and have been worn time and time again.

"I felt a sense of pride and empowerment adorning Anisha's jewellery for my wedding."

Someone else wrote my jewellery into their will, to be passed to their daughter. Not gold or precious stones, but a piece of laser-cut acrylic that meant enough to name in a legal document.

That's when I understood. The material was never the point. The meaning was.

And people send pieces back to me to be repaired. Not replaced. They could buy something new. They choose to fix what they have. Because the object matters. The story in it matters. The repairs become part of the story too- a legacy.

The heirloom isn't about what something is made from. It's about whether it means so much to you that you want to hold onto it.

Where it begins

This weekend I was at the Brown Game Strong pop up. When people stopped at my table, some knew my work and some had never seen it before. But that moment of joy when they see the pieces. The intention I've put into them, it lands. It really lands. Thats what really makes a difference.

That recognition before they've even picked something up. Something sparking of connection, feeling familiar, being seen. That's where the heirloom begins. Not at the wedding. Not in the will. Right there at the table, in that first moment of feeling something in the piece.

When someone wears a piece I've made, I don't want them to think of me. I want them to feel the care. The story. To know that somebody made this with real attention and real love.

And I truly believe that the intention travels, that everything poured into the making reaches the person who wears it. And when that piece gets repaired, passed on, worn again by someone new, it travels still.

That's the heirloom. Not the object but everything that's woven into it.

A question for you

When you think about what makes something an heirloom, what comes up?

Is it the material? The gold, the precious metal, the thing a jeweller could value? Or is it the way a piece made you feel the first time you put it on. The memory it holds. The moment it marked.

If you own an APS piece, I'd like you to look at it again.

Think about why you chose it. Who you were when you bought it. What it meant to step out in it. The story it already carries.

And then ask yourself. Who could wear this after you? What would you want them to feel when they put it on?