At Kinship Station, we are drawn to creators who speak the ancient language of matter—the ones who remember that an object is never just an object. It can be a transmission, a portal, a whispered invocation. Loren Lewis Cole is one of those rare artists.
Her jewelry does not shout; it sings. Quietly, assuredly, from some place before language—yet her words, when she offers them, are spells in themselves. It’s no surprise that she refers to her work as wearable shrines—each ring, pendant, and textured talisman carries the alchemical trace of something transmuted. Grief into beauty. Longing into presence. Chaos into sensual form.
Loren’s practice is ancient and deeply embodied. She began working with fire and metal as a child, her hands intuitively remembering what perhaps her ancestors knew. Today, she shapes each piece in wax, with a scalpel and fingers, embedding her fingerprints into the very design. You can feel it—the human, the imperfect, the wild feminine intelligence of the work. Her jewelry doesn’t just sit on the skin—it speaks to it, soft and close like a secret.
She is a compulsive maker, a devotee of beauty, and a fierce advocate for craft as medicine. For Loren, creating is not an escape from life—it is a return to it. A remembering that using our hands, sensing through our skin, and arranging beauty around us is not indulgent—it’s evolutionary. It keeps us alive. Awake. Intimate with spirit.
“To denounce sensuality is to live a smaller life,” she writes.
And so she makes. And so we adorn.
What Loren invites us to notice is that beauty is not a luxury. It is an intelligence. A knowing. A way of being in relationship with the seen and the unseen. Her jewelry reflects this: organic, elemental, unfinished in a way that leaves space for becoming. She speaks often of the tension between control and spontaneity—between the planned and the felt. Her work sits right at that edge. That exquisite, trembling edge where life happens.
Every piece we carry at Kinship is a portal into that spell.
This is not jewelry you “put on”—this is jewelry that joins you. Walks with you. Marks thresholds in your life you may not have even named yet.
As Loren says, “The function of jewelry is not merely decorative; it has mythological and spiritual purpose too.”
We believe this too. We always have.
And so we wear her pieces like prayers.
We wear them not for the gaze of others, but as an offering to ourselves.
We wear them as reminders that we are not machines, but mammals—living on this earth, surrounded by beauty, pulsing with memory, desire, grief, and gold.
May these pieces meet you in your own creative tension.
May they remind you that beauty is not a reward—it is a birthright.
And may they bring you back to the knowing in your own hands.
With reverence,
Kinship