Ayla Tur
Featured: June 24th, 2025
I was born on January 30, 1998, in Calp, a small town in Alicante, Spain. I lived in Valencia for eight years while completing my degree in Fine Arts and studying Jewelry Design. I am a jeweler with a deep passion for art and design, and I love immersing myself in the craft process.
I approach jewelry in two different ways: on one hand, as an artistic medium through which I explore the boundaries of jewelry with creative and expressive pieces; on the other hand, as a design-driven craft where I experiment with new, contemporary forms and goldsmithing techniques.
My work is driven by a spirit of experimentation and the time I spend at my jewelry bench, exploring materials, textures, and forms to create unique pieces that tell stories. For me, jewelry is a way to connect with nature, emotions, and the human experience—seeking a deeper meaning that goes beyond aesthetics.
✳ What’s the most unconventional material you’ve used in your art, and how did it impact your work?
The most unconventional material I’ve used so far is soap. I chose it because it’s an everyday, intimate, and ephemeral material. Its fragility and transient nature allowed me to explore concepts such as care, symbolic cleansing, and vulnerability. Working with soap forced me to think about creating from a place of impermanence— knowing that what I build will transform or disappear over time. It made me let go of control and embrace the process more than the final result.
What led me to use soap was a search for a material that could physically disappear with time, while also symbolizing care. The theme I was working on was the act of taking care—of oneself and of others—and I needed a material that could express that delicate, shifting gesture. Soap, with all its symbolic weight, became the perfect medium.
✳ Do you ever find yourself pushing the boundaries of a material—what’s the most surprising way you’ve used a material?
Yes, I’m constantly interested in pushing the boundaries of materials. In the case of soap, I worked with it in different ways: carving it to create softer, more organic shapes, and casting it to achieve more geometric, structured forms. In this case, I felt I was not only pushing the material itself, but also challenging the boundaries of my own field—jewelry—by introducing something so fragile and ephemeral into a context traditionally associated with permanence and value.
In another project, I used eggshells. I chose them because I wanted to convey an idea of fragility, but also of maternal protection. I was fascinated by how such a delicate material could also hold, shelter, and preserve. In this case, I feel I truly pushed the limits of the material itself—taking something inherently fragile and transforming it into something surprisingly durable. It challenged common assumptions about what can last and what cannot.
✳ What’s a new material you’re currently experimenting with? Share your insights.
Right now, I’m not experimenting with a new material per se, but rather with new sources for the materials I already work with—mainly stone and clay. I’ve started gathering them directly from my surroundings: from the river near my home, and the forest just out- side the village where I live. This change has transformed the way I understand and connect with these materials.
Collecting them myself—seeing where they come from, in what condition I find them, how the landscape shapes them—brings me closer to their origin. It’s a more intimate process, slower and more intuitive. The natural environment has, in a way, become my new material—not only through what I gather, but through the way it influences my way of working. It teaches me to observe more deeply, to engage with my practice in a new, grounded way.
