Robin Rifé and The One that Got Away

Robin Rifé


Inlaid Bone Earrings


Buffalo Horn & Faceted Glass Necklace


Spiral Earrings

Robin Rifé's jewelry is one of a kind. Each piece is unique, and she doesn't repeat. This can actually cause a great deal of heartache, at times.

"There was this one necklace," recalls Shannon Nixon, admirer of Robin Rifé's work. "It had sandalwood beads and this unusual glass and stone pendant with Sanskrit writing on it. I was wearing it around the store and people were like THAT is an amazing necklace. But I decided to wait, I didn't get it, and," Shannon says with real regret in her voice, "someone else bought it."

Poor Shannon. But her pain is Robin Rifé's stock and trade, harsh as that may sound. I make it how I make it, is how Rifé puts it, and with thirteen years as a jeweler under her belt, she prides herself on not making the same piece of jewelry twice.

"A long time ago, I was trying to sell some of my jewelry to a franchise gift shop," Rifé says. "They were very particular about 'season.' I mean, I make it how I make it, I don't care about what time of year it is, but the franchise wanted 'spring.' Or they wouldn't buy red stones in summer. Or they'd find a piece they liked and [the buyer] would say, 'Can you do this thirty more times? Exactly like this?' And I was like no, I do one of a kind and that's what makes it of value."

Upon seeing her artwork, most customers immediately connect with Rifé's dedication to uniqueness. Each piece of jewelry is a solo treasure and her work as a whole is eclectic, archetypal - but traditional, in its way, too. Drawing on influences from Navajo to Indonesian craftspeople, Rifé says that traditional tribal jewelry moves her the most.

"People have been adorning themselves from the beginning, and tribal jewelry often represents the entire wealth that that family has," says Rifé. "I'm drawn to jewelry that's maybe made in a crude manner and passed down for the sake of tradition, because tradition is such a strong part of what we are."

Robin caught the bug for jewelry when she lived in New Mexico, working with raw silver, turquoise, and coral, and slowly gathering her skills working with them. "I was a little hippie girl making stuff for friends, but, then, as I worked with Native American jewelers, I learned better techniques which really gave me the chops. It's rare to find folks who actually KNOW how to make string and make it last for a hundred years." She eventually became good enough to work with a jewelry company called Ancient Sun, which employed traditional jewelry-making techniques that matched her own goals as an artist. On behalf of the owner, Rifé ran that company for six years before moving to the Twin Cities and starting her own business here.

Though her days as an apprentice may be over, she continues to gather new techniques while traveling globally. She teaches herself old jewelry making techniques by nosing in obscure markets of Nepal or India and deliberately buying old, broken pieces of jewelry to purchase and disassemble.

"I call it cannibalizing," she says. "You learn a lot, taking something apart."

In a Nepalese market, for example, she bought some old broken pieces of jewelry in order to cannibalize and learn. She guesses the pieces were probably a few hundred years old. "The construction methods were so incredible. Simple, yes, but, oh, the way they were tying the knots, laying them perfectly. And they just used their hands and hand-made string."

Rifé believes that learning the oldest ways is important if an artist wants to make something that lasts beyond the current season.

"The closer you can get to doing something in a traditional way, the more timeless and long-lasting it will be. That's heirloom quality," Rifé says. "A mother could pass that piece of jewelry to her daughter. And that's the kind of jewelry I make."

Customers have responded and Rifé has a large and loyal following in the Twin Cities.

She says this is because, unlike New York, which found her work too "funky," Minneapolis is good to local artists like her who create one-of-a-kind jewelry. "I know how lucky I am," Rifé says. "My customers here have rolled with my stylistic changes - and I have changed over last six years. Only Minneapolis could support a jeweler like me. This town is very loyal to local artists."

As for loyal customer Shannon and her coveted Sanskrit necklace, did she get another? Did Robin make her a necklace to replace the one she failed to buy in time?

Shannon tried her best. "I described the necklace and I said to Robin, 'Can you please make another for me?' But she was like, 'Sorry, Shannon, I make a piece of jewelry and then it's done.'"

Surely Shannon can find a gorgeous replacement for that Sanskrit pendant.

Shannon doesn't think so. "I have totally kicked myself for not buying it," she laments. "It still pains me, actually."

And that might be the finest compliment a maker of one-of-a-kind jewelry can be paid.