John Sullivan: Shaping Feelings in Metal
Samuel Kaur
John Sullivan is a metalsmith, jeweller, and educator whose practice moves between craft, sculpture, and deeply personal storytelling.
Alongside teaching in both university and studio settings, John Sullivan maintains an active studio practice rooted in constant experimentation and technical exploration. His background in traditional metalsmithing and jewellery making informs a process that remains materially grounded, even as it shifts between techniques, scales, and conceptual approaches.
Rather than building a single, fixed visual language, Sullivan’s work is defined by change. Each body of work often departs significantly from the last, driven by a need to explore new processes and ideas as they emerge. This results in a practice that resists repetition, instead treating each project as a separate inquiry into material and meaning.
IRK: Your work often deals with psychological states and relationships – what first pushed you to explore these themes through metal?
John Sullivan: It goes back to my undergraduate years. I started out studying engineering, computer science, and business, and took art classes on the side. I quickly fell into it. It just clicked. When I took a metalsmithing class, it felt like reconnecting with something familiar. As a kid, I built things out of wire and cardboard. So working with metal felt natural. It became the medium I had the most control over, and the one that allowed me to express myself best.
IRK: Is there a recurring emotional or psychological John Sullivan pattern you keep returning to, even unconsciously?
John Sullivan: Definitely. My neurodivergence constantly pushes me to explore new directions. I also speak openly about my mental health – I’ve dealt with PTSD, anxiety, and depression. Those experiences shape my work, whether I intend them to or not. Even something simple, like a colorful flower ring, might come from a place of coping, losing myself in the process. That’s where empathy comes in. I try to translate internal states into something others can feel or recognize.
IRK: A lot of creative people identify themselves clearly—writer, painter, filmmaker. But what do you call what you do? Jewelry? Sculpture? Is there a word you use?
John Sullivan: I teach traditional jewelry making. I was trained by multiple goldsmiths, apprenticed under a number of artists, and I know that world very well. But my own work sits more in the realm of “wearable sculpture”. That said, even that can be a broad umbrella term for contemporary jewelry. What keeps me in the jewelry format is the body. Jewelry exists in relationship to the wearer. There’s a dialogue between the object, the body wearing it, and the viewer experiencing that relationship. There’s a lot to talk about there.
IRK: Do you John Sullivan, have a personal “bible” or a quote – a rule, principle, or reference you return to when the work starts getting messy?
John Sullivan: “A smooth sea never made a skilled sailor,” often attributed to Franklin D. Roosevelt. Life is messy. Hardship is inevitable. You either let it defeat you or learn from it and grow.
IRK: What role does technology play in your practice – as a tool, a subject, or something to resist?
John Sullivan: A little bit of all three. As a tool, there’s 3D modelling, which can be incredibly useful. You can design a ring on a computer quickly and precisely. But when I first learned jewellery and metalsmithing, I wasn’t allowed to use a flex shaft – the most versatile rotary tool in a jeweller’s studio – for my entire first year.
I had to do everything the traditional way, and often the hard way. At the time, it was frustrating, but those lessons taught me so much about the material itself. They taught me what metal wants to do, what it resists, what it can tolerate, and what it rewards.
Then, when I finally gained access to those tools, I understood both their strengths and their limitations. That’s the danger of becoming over-reliant on technology: if you let a tool do too much too early, you skip the lessons that make you better.
IRK: What kind of environment do you need to create – mess, silence, music?
John Sullivan: Normally, every inch of my walls is covered – art, odd objects, little curiosities, visual clutter that inspires me. I work in a condensed space, so organization matters, but once I’m making, it becomes what I’d call organized chaos. Tools spread everywhere. Materials pile up. Every surface becomes active. The floor gets involved.
If someone walked in mid-project, it would look like a tornado hit. But I know where everything is. And then once a project is done, I reset everything methodically.
When I’m in the thinking stage – conceptualizing, designing, trying to solve a piece – I need complete silence. My thoughts are loud enough already. I don’t need outside noise competing with them.
But when the idea is solved, and it becomes fabrication – busy work, execution, repetitive process – then I’ll listen to podcasts, audiobooks, music, whatever helps me move through it.
IRK: What’s the most overhyped idea right now in the jewelery industry?
John Sullivan: Scale. Making something bigger doesn’t automatically make it better. Oversized pieces often become impractical, especially when marketed as wearable fashion.
IRK: How important is wearability vs. sculptural presence in your jewelry?
John Sullivan: It depends on the intention. For functional jewelry, wearability is essential. But in my conceptual work, the physical experience is part of the piece. For example, I made a necklace weighing 35 pounds to physically force a depressive posture. The work isn’t complete until it’s worn and felt.
IRK: If metal had a personality, what would it be?
John Sullivan: I love this question because every metal has a personality. The more you work with them, the more they reveal character.
Gold is the wise elder. Its wisdom is timeless. Reliable, respected, deeply understood, but often out of reach for most people because of cost.
Silver is the dependable friend. Always there, trustworthy, versatile – you can build almost anything with silver.
Platinum is the outsider genius. It can do everything the others can, but only on its own terms. You must learn its language first, and if you do, it rewards you.
Copper, brass, and bronze are children. Messy, dirty, full of potential, still learning. They’re wonderful teaching metals because mistakes are affordable, and there’s immense possibility in them.
Nickel is the assistant. Great at supporting other metals, but alone, disaster.
Steel is the blue-collar worker. Dependable, hardworking, strong, but over time, you see wear take its toll.
And stainless steel, which I’m deeply focused on now, that’s the underrated one. It’s stubborn. It resists. But if you understand its quirks and work with them rather than against them, it becomes extraordinary. I think stainless steel is criminally underrated in jewelry, and I’m excited to keep pushing what it can become.
IRK: Do you have a favorite piece of jewelry from history that you keep coming back to? What draws you to it?
John Sullivan: One is “Dragonfly Woman” by René Lalique – incredible craftsmanship.
Another is “Gold Makes You Blind” by Otto Künzli – a gold bracelet hidden under black rubber. It challenges value perception.
Also, works by David Bielander, who makes gold look like cardboard. And Robert Ebendorf, who used found objects like beach trash – completely redefining material value.
IRK: If you John Sullivan could be a fly for a day, on whose wall would you love to spend that day and why?
John Sullivan: I’d love to observe Louise Bourgeois. Her process of translating trauma into form is fascinating. But also, I’d want to be in the studio of Cartier during its peak in the mid-20th century. Watching master craftsmen create such complex work with only traditional tools would be incredible.
Learn more about John Sullivan here.
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Samuel is a Paris-based creative marketing student and writer. When he got bad grades in school or behaved badly, his parents punished him by making him read - maybe that's where it began. What felt like torture at the time has now turned out to be a great gift.
Two years ago, he moved to Paris for his fashion studies. Since then the urge to write has only grown stronger. When he's not working on articles, he writes mostly film scripts or poetry. Beyond writing, he has a deep-rooted passion for cinema and enjoys engaging in all forms of filmmaking.
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