Rings (and a lesson) 

 Gillian and I have a general DIY spirit for many things in life, and when I see something interesting, I can have a particularly strong inclination to ask myself, "How did they make it? How would I do it differently?" Well, when we began looking at wedding rings, my reaction was no different. In fact, my mental chatter included a I think I could do that as our eyes fell on all the cabinets of rings and jewelry we viewed in person and online. I've never made jewelry in my life, but I was also motivated by the fact that we wanted something a little different so it didn't have to be "nice and normal." We wanted something that better represented the journey of a long term relationship, which is not smooth, shiny, and perfect. We wanted something rough, textured, Medieval looking. Because there's beauty in imperfection. And always a better story.

When in the store I quickly started asking questions about materials, process, techniques, and equipment. The gal at the store started getting the clue. She said, "I guess you could probably take a class or two to get started..." "How much is the class?" I asked.

Armed with every "make your own wedding ring" video on YouTube and Google, I now had a very basic idea of what I was getting into, knowing that there would be a lot of learning and overcoming obstacles along the way (emerging wedding metaphor). We decided on Sand-casting, a primitive technique using compressed sand to hold shape while pouring molten metal into the hollowed part.  This means buying raw ore and turning it into a finished custom ring--learning foundry, casting, shaping, finishing, gem-setting, and sizing along the way.  Whew. 

Keeping our budget in mind, I ordered up the basic tools, and the day came for me to head into the parking lot of my apartment building (lesson - work with what you have, where you are, but don't let anybody talk you out of getting a blowtorch). 

What's beautiful and frustrating about sand-casting is that every ring is one-of-a-kind. The container is filled with sand, and the blank (the object to be duplicated) is pressed into the sand, then it is fired and destroyed to remove the ring.

I was off to a great start, with my practice attempt being successful, but that didn’t last long. 

I would delicately create the mold, artfully add texture with a needle to the sand, dig the sprue (pour hole for molten metal) and vent holes, put the halves together, carefully carry my “foundry” behind my building (catching a few eyes here and there), heat, pour, cool... And suddenly I was unable to get a complete ring. 

Each time I pulled the mold open, I had a half-formed ring. And each time I would analyze and research what could have caused this issue. 

“Crucible not hot enough?”

“Too much space between crucible and cope (top of mold)?”

“Cope too high?  Sprue not wide enough?”

“Sand too dry?” 

This happened attempt after attempt for many weeks. Many expletives were said. 

And each time I learned something new and tried something a little different. Then one day, I finally saw the message that was trying to surface through it all. 

Yep. That’s right. It made me laugh. Laugh in a slightly menacing way for a moment, but then I sat down holding the still-smoking mold, with its singular smell of burned clay, and took it all in. I had started this journey, and I wasn’t about to throw in the metaphorical towel. I took a few deep breaths and made some notes as I cleaned up in anticipation for the next night.

And of course that “C” and the metaphor continued, but I was getting closer.

It was now the final attempt of a late night. I asked G to come with me to be my good luck charm when I went out back, and guess what. 

IT WORKED! 

We now had our first wedding ring after a few dozen or so "practices." And someone very special was excited to see that we would in fact have rings to put on our fingers wedding day. 

 I was able to make a second ring more easily, continuing on to patina and further finish with some renewed patience and commitment to the process. 

G and I have talked to a lot of friends and family about marriage. In fact we’ve already asked our wedding guests for advice! There’s a few screaming truths that have been shared, and one of them ("Stay committed, focusing on the bigger picture”) really hit home. Thank you for the shared wisdom, and hopefully you’ll continue to share with us, and we with you, as we start our journey together.