Fernando Jorge on jewellery design: rhythm, contrast, and sensuality

Brazilian-born, London-based jeweller Fernando Jorge launched his eponymous label in 2010, quickly becoming renowned in the world of jewellery designfor his striking sculptural pieces—crafted in Brazil, Portugal, and Italy. Jorge’s designs have been worn by cultural icons including Beyoncé, Viola Davis, Michelle Obama, Saoirse Ronan, and Naomi Watts, gracing the red carpet and distinguished galleries alike with an epitomized display of methodical craftsmanship and natural sensuality.

In 2019, Jorge opened his first private showroom, a space in São Paulo as consciously envisaged as his pieces themselves, with designs curated to spotlight the work of Brazilian artists. Since then, Jorge has launched two more spaces of the same kind in New York and London, working closely with Studio Mellone—each catering to the places they stand in. Ever in tune with the world around him, Jorge’s most recent collection, Vertex, embraces the physical structure of the diamond, conceiving an energetic momentum waiting to be found.

hube: Where does your inspiration arrive from, and where do ideas begin for you—in a place, a feeling, a memory? Some creatives speak of inspiration as a kind of visitor—unpredictable, tender, or even demanding. What is your relationship with it?

Fernando Jorge: For me, inspiration feels less like an unexpected visitor and more like a recurring cycle. It’s a rhythm that I’ve come to recognise over the years. My process often begins with a mood—something I start to notice and gather—small, everyday impressions. As I translate those ideas into design, a clearer underlying feeling emerges.

I can only truly begin shaping a new collection once I’ve experienced, touched, and understood the previous one. It’s almost a biological rhythm—not always pleasant, clean or organised, but deeply physical and inevitable. I create as much structure around my practice as possible, but I also allow room for the messiness and unpredictability that is part of the creative process. That balance of structure and chaos is where my ideas take form and what shapes my work.

h: Your work feels like a meditation on contrast—weight and lightness, softness and tension, precision and chance. What draws you to metal as a medium, and how do you see it emotionally, beyond its material value?

FJ: It is great to hear that my work feels like that. I work in a very thoughtful way, never impulsive. The process involves a great deal of editing and paring back until I arrive at a place that holds a balance of opposing ideas. That’s why tension is always present. It reflects my constant attempt to reconcile contrasts, whether they come from life itself or from a particular mood that I’m trying to translate. I’m drawn to metal due to my background in product design, where I first discovered its structural possibilities. Metal is fascinating because it is both malleable and strong—it can be moulded, shaped, cast, or soldered—and yet, it provides the skeleton of an object, a structure that gives permanence. In jewellery, this role becomes even more profound. Gold in particular has qualities that go beyond its material value. It’s physically perfect for use on the body—it doesn’t oxidize, it isn’t allergenic, and it has a warmth both tactile and visual. It feels alive on the skin in a way other metals do not. Over the years, gold has become so intrinsic to my work that it no longer feels like a deliberate choice; it’s simply the language I speak as a jeweller.

h: When you walk through a city—whether São Paulo, London, or Paris—what catches your eye first: materials, silhouettes, gestures?

FJ: The skyline of a city catches my eye first. I’m very much about grasping the whole picture and then looking more closely. I find myself constantly oscillating between stepping back to view the silhouette, and then examining closer to understand on a deeper level. That’s when I start to notice materials, textures and nuances of colour. The movement of the city and its people is generally the final observation. Everything is in perpetual motion, constantly evolving. I try to understand what’s beneath the surface before I take the time to explore the ever-changing life that exists on top of it. It’s silhouettes, then materials and textures, and finally, the rhythm of the life happening all around.

h: Do you find beauty in imperfection? What kinds of irregularities or ‘flaws’ do you secretly love, in objects or people?

FJ: I definitely find beauty in imperfection. I don’t think of irregularities as imperfections—I see them simply as natural nuances. As much as I strive to make a shape as balanced and ‘perfect’ as possible, it’s the gradients and textures found in nature that make them feel special and alive.

Think of the patterns of raw minerals or natural materials like wood—they are never completely uniform. It’s the same with people—it’s beautiful to see the way they’ve lived on their faces and bodies. I don’t respond to a ‘perfect’ look like too much makeup that covers up natural beauty. I do appreciate when things are enhanced, like with the cut of clothing or makeup that highlights a person’s features, but I don’t like things that completely disguise imperfections. I very much appreciate things in their natural state, and what we might call ‘irregularities’, which are actually the most interesting part of a perfect system.

h: There’s a softness and sensuality to your work that feels almost architectural. Do you consciously reference space and volume when designing pieces?

FJ: Yes, because by designing an object, you are taking up space and volume. I don’t think architecture comes as an inspiration to design or vice versa. I think it’s all made by hands and is imagined by referencing nature, which was there before any of it. Even when you reference the creative work of other designers or architects, you’re still indirectly drinking from the fountain of nature. You are trying to manipulate that into something new or something that articulates new feelings. The softness and sensuality in my work is there because I am reaching for the natural state of things. This results in the jewellery being soft and tactile, to communicate directly with the body.

h: Jewellery exists in motion—it lives and breathes on the body. When you design, do you imagine how a piece might move—not just across skin, but through time, gesture, even breath? Do you ever think of your work as a kind of choreography? And if so, are you drawn to contemporary dance or performance?

FJ: I think of my jewellery as something designed to communicate with the body. I think a lot about what each piece will do visually and how it will sit on the wearer—how a ring will enhance the shape of a hand, for example, and how it will behave.  The idea of how the piece will move through time, and as the body moves, is a more open-ended reflection. I can’t control it, but I love to imagine how the jewellery will live and move with someone I may not yet know.  I am drawn to contemporary dance and performance, but I don’t think of jewellery when I’m watching it. It’s a completely different art form that happens in an ephemeral way. My creative output is an object that is intended to last, whereas a dancer’s work happens in that moment and then it’s gone, which is so fascinating.

h: Do you design in silence, or with music around you? What sounds have shaped your creative world—from your childhood to now?

FJ: I’m always playing music, not just when I’m designing. It’s a constant presence in my office and at home. I would say that my musical taste is very eclectic, but I have a deep love for Brazilian music. It has this strong presence, yet it’s soft and non-intrusive. My taste in music is fluid, varying with my mood—from upbeat music for working out to more melancholic songs for introspection. The music that has creatively shaped me the most is 20th-century Brazilian music from artists like Tom Jobim and Caetano Veloso. The list goes on and on.

h: Is there a material you haven’t worked with yet, but dream of exploring—something unexpected, maybe even immaterial?

FJ:  There are materials I haven’t worked with yet that I’d like to explore, like pearl, for example. I tend to approach materials in a very intentional, methodical way. The material must make sense for the mood and the story I’m trying to tell.

Pearls are such an iconic part of jewellery history, yet I’ve only touched on them indirectly—I’ve used mother-of-pearl, which feels more sensual to me, like the texture of water. The pearl itself, though, is so pure, perfect, and ethereal. With my work being very tactile and grounded, I haven’t quite found the right moment to incorporate pearls. I know I will in the future, I just don’t want to force it.

h: Which artists—visual or otherwise—do you feel a silent kinship with? Who shaped your sense of beauty?

FJ: I’m deeply influenced by Brazilian music from the ’70s and by visual artists, architects and designers who balance function with expression. My sense of beauty is still evolving. There’s a kind of emotional undercurrent that informs how I perceive and pursue it. It’s not something fixed, but constantly shaped by experience, environment, and inner shifts.

h: Do you keep objects around you—books, stones, photos—that nourish your imagination? What’s one thing on your desk right now?

FJ: I surround myself with objects that aren’t just decorative, but meaningful things that trigger memory, texture, or a certain feeling. At home and in the studio, I keep collections of pebbles, shells, and driftwood—materials I’ve been drawn to since I was young.  Now, these materials play a more active role in my creative process. On my desk right now, I’m working on an extension of the Vertex collection, using contrasting materials in similar tones—wood, shells, stones, minerals—placed side by side to create visual harmony. I have fabric samples laid out for upcoming exhibitions in PAD and Salon, which are helping shape both the work and the environment we’re designing.

h: Each of your showrooms feels like an extension of your pieces—sculptural, sensorial, atmospheric. What emotions or rituals do you hope to evoke through these spaces?

FJ: Having studios in both London and New York has added a new depth to my work. The atmosphere really feeds my imagination and keeps the process alive. They are very much part of the same creative vision that shapes my jewellery. These spaces are designed to evoke a sense of calm and presence. I hope they highlight what we risk losing in our fast, distracted world—offering a quiet, refined atmosphere for reflection.  For those encountering my work for the first time, I want the space to feel simple, intentional, and deeply personal—an invitation to slow down and connect.

h: Is there a poem, song, or building that has stayed with you throughout your life—something you return to like a talisman?

FJ: Yes and no. My way of seeing life is always evolving—I don’t often return to one thing, but rather move in cycles—constantly expanding and discovering. That said, certain memories have stayed with me in a deep, almost instinctual way. Growing up in Brazil, visiting places like Bahia or Chapada Diamantina left a lasting impression. The rhythm of capoeira shaped my early understanding of movement, intuition, and connection. I recall certain homes in Brazil that, even as a child, gave me a sense of elegance and grounding. While I may not hold onto a single poem or song, there’s a cyclical return to those emotional landscapes—feelings of being at home and away from home. These early memories continue to live in my work, quietly informing my sense of beauty, without ever needing to be fixed in one form.

h: What do you think people often misunderstand about jewellery—as an art form, as a medium, as an experience?

FJ: Regarding my personal work, I notice that people often try to find literal references in my pieces—calling them wings, leaves, flowers, or fishbones. While I understand the impulse, my work isn’t figurative. It’s more about capturing a gesture, a movement, or an emotional trace—something more abstract, more elemental.

A common misconception about jewellery in general is the idea that it’s purely a status symbol or a form of empowerment through luxury. That’s not how I see it or approach it. For me, jewellery can be quite intimate and poetic. It can reflect natural beauty, texture, emotion—without being loud or overtly symbolic.

People who connect with my work tend to respond to that—an approach to jewellery that’s rooted in feeling, in materiality and craft.