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Karthur: The Metalsmith Making Sustainable Jewellery From Forgotten Objects

Ru Pearson

© used with permission of Karthur


Why do so many of us leave things to sit in drawers or attics, unused, unloved and no longer serving their purpose? Karthur says: scratch the purpose, make something fresh, and wear it anew. 


“Consumerism has created a rinse-and-repeat situation; everything is a copy of a copy. To have something that someone has laboured over feels so rare now, but there’s a story behind each of my pieces and I find that really exciting.” (Karthur, 2025)

 

Whether it be a symbol of love, luck, or status, a signifier of religious affiliation, or purely a means of artistic expression, jewellery has an intrinsic connection to our sense of identity. As children, we design pasta necklaces for Mother’s Day and exchange beaded friendship bracelets with our best friends. We save up pocket money to buy colour-changing mood rings and spend summers wrapping daisy chains around our ankles. Our first pieces of jewellery are playful, resourceful, and inventive. But, as adults, the whole affair becomes a bit more… highbrow. For Karthur, a young designer who transforms old silverware and other found objects to create his one-of-a-kind pieces, the world of jewellery design often feels much too serious: 

 

“Jewellery is often purchased as a so-called ‘investment piece’, whereby people invest in it because it will always be worth something, or worth more in the future. I just think that’s really boring! My materials are relatively inexpensive. I make belts out of old silver-plated cutlery, for instance, which you can source for very little if you look hard enough. Then I craft it into something new. That’s where the value lies; the work that goes into a piece and the novelty of every story that the pieces are borne from. So many things that people deem waste are just missed opportunities to create something new.”  

 

Karthur began making rings out of old spoons as a money-making hobby during lockdown, then, under the mentorship of sustainable fashion trailblazer, Dr Noki, he continued to refine his craft. “Noki introduced me to the work of other makers, like Judy Blame, who also worked with found objects. I think I fell in love with the shine of silver. Before I knew anything about metal, I had this idea that it was indestructible and hard to work with, but I actually found that you can do it pretty easily in your own studio.” 


Karthur, who has since adorned the likes of Lil Nas X, Lola Young, and Amy Taylor of Amyl and the Sniffers with his unique accessories, finds his materials on eBay, at flea markets, or by bargaining with silver dealers. He now makes everything from his home studio in East London. 



Karthur’s recent work, which utilises an array of materials – “basically anything I can get my hands on and bash into new shapes” – and a cut-and-paste approach to design, includes a range of belt buckles embellished with words and phrases like FILTH, MILK, and I ♥️ LDN. Poking fun at the solemnity of conventional jewellery, Karthur wants to “take something and make it fun or funny.” “There’s definitely cheekiness to my work,” he adds. His work also spans a collection of necklaces, ornamented ties, hair pins, and earrings that all illustrate his mischievous point of view and relic-like aesthetic. 

 

To this budding designer, his almost alchemic practice represents a “kind of magic, a connection between modern and medieval” that subverts expectations of both his source materials and the approach to contemporary jewellery. “I like to bend something that feels solid and unchangeable into something that is totally wearable, with softened edges and a new personality,” he explains. In a kind of reverse approach to kintsugi, Karthur breaks, bends, and repurposes old materials to “turn them into something exciting and modern, and something you actually want to use.If something is no longer fulfilling its purpose, Karthur seeks to find it a new lease of life: 

 

“I want to break the idea that you can’t touch certain items because your grandma would have treasured it and wanted it to be kept preserved because it’s worth something or has a history. My grandma gave me a collection of old soup terrines and I sawed them in half to make handles for a chest of drawers.”

 



Following a “slow” approach to fashion and design, Karthur’s upcycling stems from a craving for creative freedom. “I’m using materials that no one else really cares about,” he tells me. “It’s hard to offend people because no one can say ‘oh no, why did you destroy that lovely thing?!’ because it was just sitting in a charity shop selling for one pound. I like to celebrate the ageing or breaking of an object, rather than seeing it as a bad thing.” 


Having started this enterprise with few expectations – Karthur never went to art school and is wholly self-effacing when he talks of his successes – the experimentation behind his creative process, and fun he has when making, is tangible. Perhaps unsurprisingly, then, Karthur admits that he struggled at first to “business-ify” his work:

 

“How do you make a living selling your art without compromising what you’re all about? I never want to have to mass produce any products, or work with people I don’t like or respect, just to get exposure or sales. So, it’s an endless struggle to keep the money coming in.”

 

Ever the self-starter, Karthur taught himself new techniques, like casting items in silver, to meet increased demand: “I can use the same cast to create multiple items or a collection. All those new pieces still come from one beautiful, old object I have found. As an independent designer you have to be open to changing your working method to sustain yourself.” 



 When it came to creating and promoting the brand, Karthur also experienced conflicting feelings about how best to insert himself within it. So, inspired by Dr Noki who also covers his face with his art, Karthur maintains semi-anonymity by hiding his face online: “It feels less vain, to take on another, separate identity. Of course, my work comes from me; it is mine. But I don’t feel the need for my personal identity to be a part of its branding. The mask and the pseudonym therefore allow Karthur to retain a modicum of distance between his personal life and his business:

 

“I liked the concept of anonymity, and I wanted to wear my medium on my face, so I made the mask with an old dinner plate that I melted over a cast of my face. For me, it represents a character or mascot that I named Karthur. It does the work of performing the universe my work exists in. It adds mystery and an absurdity that I enjoy.” 

 

When we met for coffee, Karthur was unmasked, yet adorned in his creations; he is a walking, talking inhabitant of the universe he has created. “It used to be hard to let go of the pieces I made, but it has become easier,” he tells me. “Whenever there’s a really special piece that I find myself obsessed with, though, I just keep it for myself!”


Although his clientele and presence are growing, (one of his belts graced the stage at this year’s BRIT Awards) Karthur remains humble: “At the minute, I’m still a nobody to most people. I’m very proud of where I’ve got to and where I’m going, but I don’t want to focus too much on the congratulations or the achievements because I’m still in hustle mode, and I’m enjoying being there.” With plans to expand into fashion, homeware, and furniture, this upcoming artist is just getting started, and there’s no telling where Karthur’s collection of unloved metal might take him. 

 

Step into the wonderful world of Karthur… His work is available to buy at Retail Pharmacy in New York and via his website, which you can check out here. Karthur also showcases his work on Instagram.

 

 


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