Any artist who has successfully found their identity and an aesthetic that naturally grows from it will tell you it's not an easy path. It's a hard-fought journey that constantly causes you to second-guess yourself. It often begins as an inward exploration to find meaning, purpose, and what you want your work to say. I had been navigating this space for years before I met Tamar and felt I had finally discovered a fragile seed to which I could anchor my aesthetic, something that was uniquely mine, a signature look that is unmistakably me. Except it was still raw and wild, and I often wondered whether, in the process of chasing something so distinct from mass-market jewelry, I would land in a space far removed from accessibility and connection. Then something happened that gave my doubtful soul the soothing balm of reassurance it so desperately needed. It was a moment that changed my life forever, and it came to me in the form of a beautiful soul full of vitality, unlike anything I had experienced previously, Tamar.

Some people see your work. A rare few see all the way through it, to the thing you were reaching for and could never quite name yourself. She was one of those few.

We met the way she tells it below: across a crowded ballroom, though I have always remembered it as her finding me. She became a collector, and then something more than a collector. She understood these pieces more completely than anyone, and she gave me language for what I do. When she told me that the back of my work, the woven wire matrix I had been told for years to hide, was the very thing she loved most, she called it the weave. I have called it that ever since.

Tamar is no longer with us. The two most recent collections carry her name because I wanted her to stay woven into the work the way she is woven into how I understand it. What follows is Tamar, in her own words. I have not changed a single one, because I could not write anything better if I tried.

In her own words

Elegance is good taste plus a dash of daring - Carmel Snow

Review of Andrea Li Designs Signature Collection & Commission Works

My first Andrea Li experience:

Across a crowded ballroom, I was captivated by the bold flash of gold and auburn rutilated quartz, woven into a stunning cornucopia of braided gemstones that seemed to float in a life of its own. Spirited away and then obsessed, I had to meet that delightful designer necklace. In ballroom fashion, I worked my way towards its wearer and opened a conversation with the usual bland gala small talk, all the while carefully working my agenda: to obtain the name of creator of that wonderful couture flowing down her neckline. When at last, Andrea Li disclosed she was in fact, the artist, I could barely breathe. Not only was the creation bold, beautiful and elegant, so was its creator. I later learned this piece had a similar impact on the Denver art scene, as it was featured by the Denver Art Museum for Brilliant, Cartier in the 20th Century exhibit in 2015.

Of course, a studio appointment was arranged. Andrea Li was responsive and professional; she demonstrated a good designer's instinctive feel for my tastes and recommended several preview pieces over the internet. But I was not prepared for the absolute power of the work in her studio. In this private creative space, I was swept off my feet. Andrea Li's studio works contain semi-precious stones of all textures, shapes and dimensions, woven as if by magic into a series of symphonies. It was an experience, a vibrant floating tapestry of light and texture, a blending of earth and sky, moss and topaz, volcanoes and I.M. Pei, woven into art with the elegance, genius and originality of an innovator reminiscent of Miles Davis. Each piece with a rich inner life of its own that seemed as old as the universe itself. That one-hour appointment turned into an afternoon and at least one bottle of wine.

As with a true artistic experience, in the wearing, you are transformed in a way no other statement piece can inspire. Andrea Li Designs creations not only reflect who you are - they inspire and instruct as if from ancient patterns. I learned this from a fashion benefit where the designers paired me in an Andrea Li Signature Collection piece, in fire coral and onyx, with a Gino Verlardi black velvet ball gown. Verlardi's classic gown required a classic wearing - using your finishing school grooming and posture, a stature and carriage appropriate for announcement at the Mayflower hotel. But the accompanying Andrea Li Designs piece required even more depth: an original and daring statement. It looked at me as if it was the dragon. In a leap of faith, I let the piece teach me how to wear it and experienced the full the passion and elegance of rare fire coral. You will never feel the same after wearing an Andrea Li Designs. Its gift will stay with you.

But there was something more I needed from the artist Andrea Li. There was something started with the fire coral that lingered unfinished. I reached out for a commission piece with only an idea, an ephemeral feeling - on the theme of passion and love, that the heart needs to be brave enough to suffer in order experience joy on the other side. For this concept work, the only direction I gave Andrea Li was a 2-CD set of Mozart's Violin Concertos, the color "red" and the statement that "after suffering comes joy". The piece is stunning. She and her companion cuff are simply named Mozart. On every wearing, she draws attention from across the room. A joyous dance of gold and ruby and the unbearable lightness of being.

More of her words

Later, Tamar answered a few questions about the work. Again, unaltered.

On what makes it special:

Besides the obvious craftsmanship and artistic design, - Your storytelling - choice of semi-precious - the weave

On how it is different:

Your storytelling - each piece is a world in its own. Every collector's piece has a story, an origin, and an artist behind the work.

On why she bought it:

It chose me. (joking…)

I bought a piece of Andrea Li's artistic vision. I like it in there - part fantasy, part creativity.

On color, and the commission:

I'm a little synesthetic so, I can hear or feel a color. It's not just me - lots of artists are that way. (Key of A major is yellow, Key of C is peridot, ha!)

And the commission piece - I feel red - deeply alive, deeply loving, deeply loved.

And, finally:

what really sold me on the piece was you. The storytelling, the depth woven into each piece, what the stones mean, and how you educated me on the stones and built trust that this was quality cuts of stone, how you hand-picked them out. So for me personally, its buying genuine art.

What her memory set in motion

When I first shared my tribute to Tamar, I thought it would only reach the people who already loved her. But grief travels in ways we cannot plan. Some time after I lost her, one of Tamar's dear friends, Jennifer, found me. She had learned of Tamar's passing from an obituary, and somehow the trail led her to me, and to the collection that carries Tamar's name.

We have been walking through this grief together ever since, and we still are. Not one of us carrying the other, but both of us side by side, two women who loved the same person and needed someone who understood exactly what that kind of loss weighs. The grief is still raw. I am not sure it is meant to be anything else.

To keep Tamar close, Jennifer chose a piece from the collection that carries her name. She carries a little of Tamar with her now.

The night before Jennifer and I last spoke, she dreamed of Tamar. In the dream, she told Tamar that the two of us had found each other, and that she was happy now. When she told me, I could hardly breathe, because that very week I had been walking through an exhibit at the museum and felt Tamar there beside me, the way she always was among beautiful things.

I do not believe any of that is coincidence. I think it is Tamar, still doing what she always did: bringing the right people into the same room, and making sure that no one who loved her has to carry it alone.

She saw the whole of it. The earth and sky, the moss and topaz, the volcanoes and I.M. Pei. She saw the weave, and she gave it its name.

I keep making the work, and now two collections carry hers. Everyone who wears one carries a little of Tamar too. That was always the point of art, she would tell you: to hold what we love in something that outlasts us.

Tamar made me brave enough to believe in myself, but, more importantly, to have the courage to look beyond my identity to see the person my art touches, and ultimately to remove myself from the equation in order to serve that individual alone. My art no longer belongs to me. It is not a vehicle for self-glory; its purpose is to transform the wearer and, hopefully, to manifest the same legacy of lasting impact that Tamar taught me was possible.

Thank you, Tamar.