Interview about Squama Body Jewelry , winner of the A' Jewelry Design Award 2025
The Squama is part of the Kerf Collection, a series that treats the body as a shifting landscape. Through precise kerf cuts, the silver gains fluidity, bending effortlessly to follow the body's natural topography. Its undulating surface catches and disperses light, creating a luminous gradient that shifts with movement. The interplay of incandescent highlights and satin-finished shadows accentuates the body's form, turning reflection into a living expression of light. The name Squama evokes an allusion to overlapping layers of plates, reflecting light in intricate patterns.
View detailed images, specifications, and award details on A' Design Award & Competition website.
View Design DetailsThe technique and geometry of the cuts, along with the choice of material, work hand in hand to create a design that feels almost like a living creature. The curvature of the kerf cuts—especially the gradient transition from soft, smooth curves to sharper radii—plays a crucial role in achieving this effect. This gradual shift generates a dynamic surface that catches and reflects light in constantly changing ways.As the jewelry moves with the body—or as the viewer moves around it—it creates real-time shifts in light, shadow, and even perceived color. One of the most important aspects is how the piece reveals the full natural spectrum of silver’s grayscale—from luminous highlights to deep, rich shadows. These tonal variations are not painted on or added as ornament; they emerge purely from the interaction between light, geometry, material, and technique. The color is a result of design precision, not surface treatment or additive color.Because the jewelry is made from polished silver, it also behaves like a subtle mirror, reflecting its surroundings. In a green-toned space, for instance, you might see a greenish reflection ripple across the surface—amplifying the impression that the object is alive and deeply responsive to its environment. It’s this combination of parameters—technique, material, geometry, light, and movement—that brings the piece to life and gives it the presence of a living creature.
As an architect, I like to explore pure and coherent approaches to design—I don’t see design as a fragmented process. In the Kerf Collection, I focus on approaches that emerge from the interplay between technique and material behavior.The Squama piece is part of this collection, turning material constraints into expressive opportunities through technique and design.In this experiment, drawing on my background in architecture, I view the body as a context for design exploration.I’m curious about how materials can be subtly manipulated to produce complex geometries, and how their transformation is guided by both design intention and fabrication processes. I experiment with kerf cut geometry and its effects on design, investigating the transition from a flat, rigid surface into a flexible, body-conforming form. This transformation is made possible through strategic kerf cuts, which allow rigid material to bend, articulate, and adapt to different parts of the body.
Working with limited access to advanced 3D printing and laser cutting technologies in Iran—especially across diverse materials—was both challenging and time-consuming. This was particularly true during the experimental phase, where trial and error and prototype testing are essential. Testing specific design parameters on various materials often became a slow process, as certain 3D-printed materials I needed weren’t available locally and had to be sourced from abroad, which delayed iterations.Another major obstacle was the mindset of local machine operators, who typically focus on commercial mass production and are often reluctant to engage with experimental or unconventional projects. I spent considerable time meeting with operators, explaining my concept in detail, until I found a few professionals willing to collaborate despite the risks and limitations.These constraints forced me to be resourceful—sometimes adapting the design to available technologies, and other times finding unconventional workarounds. In the end, I aimed to balance the core design ideas with the available techniques. It is worth mentioning that despite these challenges, there are some well-educated and professional academic experts in Iran who provide valuable consultation on devices and techniques, helping to bridge communication with local operators.Looking ahead, I plan to collaborate with international companies to gain access to a broader range of technical resources and material options, which will open up more possibilities for design exploration.
My experimental process centered on prototyping—testing various design parameters and material properties to refine what truly aligned with my conceptual vision. For me, aesthetics are not superficial or ornamental additions; they can emerge through design technique and are inseparable from structure, fabrication, and material performance.During material properties exploration, I first noticed a reflective quality in steel, but it was in silver that this characteristic fully revealed itself. Its luminous nature became essential to the piece—adding a pure, shifting visual depth.Precise kerf cuts and the geometry of these cuts allow the silver to articulate and adapt, producing a dynamic surface that interacts with light and its surroundings in real time. As the piece bends around the neck or hand, it catches light and shadow, generating subtle gradients that feel almost alive.This dynamic quality isn’t about decorative color—it’s fundamentally woven into the design.
I see the body as a landscape—its geometry and curvature changing from one area to another. This perspective directly informs how I design with kerf cuts. The kerfs allow the rigid material to adapt—not just to sit on the body, but to conform to it.But flexibility alone isn’t the goal. What truly interests me is the interaction—the way the piece and the body influence each other. A necklace, for example, bends differently than a hand piece or something worn along the spine. Each area of the body presents a unique structural context, and I design the geometry in dialogue with that.This reciprocal relationship—between geometry, the body’s landscape, and material—is central to my approach. The jewelry doesn’t just reflect the body; it transforms how the body is perceived, becoming a structural extension of it.
The name Squama—which refers to small, overlapping scales—was chosen because of the structural and visual behaviors that emerge once the piece is bent. While the design wasn’t directly inspired by biological forms, the term perfectly captures how the surface begins to shift and overlap, engaging with light and shadow in a way that echoes natural scales.Through kerf-cut geometry, a rigid sheet transforms into a flexible surface. As it curves, the cut patterns allow parts of the material to lift and flex, creating subtle overlaps that enable the form to articulate. This overlapping visual effect doesn’t exist in the flat state—it only emerges through bending, becoming essential to both the structure and the visual rhythm of the piece.The result is a surface in constant flux—alive with light and shadow. In polished silver, this effect becomes especially dynamic, as reflections ripple across the piece in real time. The piece doesn’t rely on ornamentation; instead, it reveals its own nature and surroundings.
My background in architecture shapes my approach to design as a coherent, integrated process—not a fragmented one. As I mentioned before, I don’t treat design and technique as separate; instead, I follow a process where geometry, fabrication, and material behavior evolve together.Squama Body Jewelry is not conceived as a fixed object but as a flexible system with extendable parameters. The kerf-cut geometry allows the piece to extend because it follows a continuous curved logic—convex and concave geometries mapped across a 2D surface. This geometric and material logic is inherently scalable, allowing the piece to grow seamlessly from wrist to elbow or adapt to other parts of the body by modifying just a few key variables.Importantly, this transformation doesn’t rely on adding discrete segments. Instead, it maintains structural continuity and a coherent visual rhythm as it evolves. The way the piece bends, adapts, and extends responds intuitively to the contours of the body.This capacity for transformation—its ability to bend, adapt, and extend—is inspired from my architectural experience, especially in fabrication-based design.
One of the key discoveries during the research phase was recognizing the power of an interconnected design and fabrication process — realizing that I could achieve complex geometries purely through the manipulation of a single surface, without relying on secondary joints or added components. It was important to me not to treat joints as separate or attached mechanical elements, or to resolve structure as something secondary. Instead, I aimed to embed flexibility directly into the material and technique, treating them as an integrated system with full formal and structural potential.Through an in-depth study of kerf cutting techniques, I found that specific patterns and curvature transitions could enable a rigid sheet to bend with distinct geometric characteristics. It’s not just about allowing the material to bend and transform — it’s about designing the geometry of bending itself. This led to a self-sufficient design system, where the material becomes both structure and aesthetic.This approach feels honest — to the material, to the technique, and to the design itself — resulting in a kind of elegance that’s grounded in constraint, not excess.
Looking ahead, I’m continuing to explore how the kerf cutting technique and its geometry can unlock new design possibilities. I am developing new body jewelry pieces tailored to different parts of the body—each with its own unique curvature and structural logic. This approach requires rethinking the geometry and parameters of the cuts according to the body’s landscape.What excites me most is how sensitive the system is to small changes. Even subtle adjustments in cut spacing, angle, or curvature can lead to entirely new behaviors and visual effects. As a result, the technique itself becomes an open-ended tool for experimentation—capable of generating a wide range of outcomes. I see this evolving not only in scale and placement on the body, but also through exploring new materials and fabrication technologies.
In my opinion, the world is constantly changing, and so is the definition of jewelry. The traditional focus on ornamentation is no longer the only path in design. Today, technology offers an expanded set of tools and possibilities that can be just as expressive as form or material.For emerging designers, it’s important to stay curious about the evolving environment and available technologies, exploring their creative potential—not just as production tools, but as sources of inspiration. Personally, I approach technology and technique not merely as tools for execution, but as opportunities to rethink what design can generate—its movement, interaction, and presence.Balancing technical innovation and artistic expression isn’t about choosing one over the other. It’s about understanding how they inform and elevate each other—so that technique becomes concept, and aesthetics emerge naturally from structure.Definitions are never fixed; they evolve over time. We shouldn’t feel confined by conventional frameworks. Just because something has traditionally been seen one way doesn’t mean it must remain so. As designers, we have the freedom—and responsibility—to redefine it with fresh perspectives.In a shifting world, design must remain open, curious, and fluid. That’s where true innovation begins.
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