Camille Paloma Walton

Interview by Macy Andres
Photography by Eliza Blamey

Camille Paloma Walton is one of Aotearoa’s foremost contemporary jewellers, known and loved for her oeuvre of fine-set, bold designs. Ahead of the launch of her latest collection with Public Record on March 5th, we sought to gain a greater insight into the inner workings of this release, and Camille’s reflections on her practice thus far. 

I spent the first Sunday of February in the Ngahere of Wainuiomata. I was taken by my friends; it’s a place where they, much like the inhabitants of neighbouring Eastbourne hills, enjoy trailing. We spent the better part of an hour weaving up the ridge, until, pointed by a reprieve in incline, we were beckoned into the valley below. We would spend the rest of our day together in this cleave; chasing the daylight as it peppered along the gentle stream.

This shoot location was chosen for its resemblance to the guiding theme of Camille Paloma Walton’s latest collection: the forest and its abundance of actors. In many ways, it felt like a return to the source. Feeling the weight of each piece on my skin, in concord with the sensation of shrub underfoot; foliage brushing my arms; was an engulfment. A reminder that there is no distinct human and natural. Whether embodied in the feeling of centredness this immersion brought upon me, or marked by protrusions of colonial flora amongst native bush; we are, for better or worse, forever tied to our natural environment. 

Camille and I discuss the personal significance of this collection, the origin of her practice, and her approach to making in the face of turbulence. 

I hear you have quite the jewellery origin story. Tell us how you got into your craft. 

I ended up falling into jewellery, but looking back at my childhood, it is not much of a surprise that I ended up here. I adored dressing up as a child and would adorn myself with every jewel I could find. I was also completely captivated by films with magical and treasure elements, especially the glowing thread in The Princess and the Goblin, and the scene in 101 Rabbit Tales where Daffy Duck dives headfirst into piles of treasure. I remember feeling completely drawn to the gemstones and the sparkle. 

After deciding Massey Design School was not the right environment for me, and knowing I did not want to go straight into conventional work because I wanted to spend my days making, in whatever form that took, I stumbled across Whitireia’s contemporary jewellery design degree and thought, why not? I loved the relaxed studio environment there. Although I did not take it especially seriously at the time and was more focused on the people I was studying with and student life, I did complete the degree, and it was a valuable stepping stone. I didn’t initially see contemporary jewellery as a viable career, so I spent most of my twenties working as a nanny, which I loved. Spending my days crafting with children is always a joy. I made jewellery on the side during those years, though it was sporadic. When Covid hit and I could no longer work as a nanny, I built a small studio in my then partner’s basement and began teaching myself stone setting and finer jewellery techniques. 

I think my contemporary jewellery background, and the emphasis on finding your own way of doing things rather than being classically trained as a metalsmith, helped my style develop into something more distinct. I was fortunate that the work I loved making was also the work people responded to, and the business naturally grew into a full time career.

Your studio is based outside of your home on the coast of Te Whanganui a Tara. Do you think this blend of the domestic and professional lends a more personal hue to your work? How do you think your approach is different than if you worked from a removed studio space?

Working from home gives me complete immersion. Whether that is entirely healthy is another question, but it means I am always thinking about the work. There are no strict hours. If I have a new idea at any hour, I can easily run away to my studio. Jewellery is so closely tied to who I am, and I still feel more like a maker than a business owner. The idea of working in a separate space that I drive to each day and treating it like a conventional 9 to 5 job would feel quite strange and take some of the joy of it for me I’m sure.

Do you find that your work is reflective of yourself, your environment, various stages of life, in the development of a collection? Many jewellers are afraid of change; to isolate those who collect their mahi. How do you begin approaching new designs, evolution, adaption when your vocation depends on consistent visual signature?

I think my work grows quite organically. Nothing is especially calculated. I am sure every small aspect of my environment and stage of life affects it in some way, but that is not something I feel the need to dissect. So much of my time is spent creating bespoke pieces or fulfilling web orders that collections like In the Hills are purely for play. With those, I try to switch off the part of my brain that worries about how they will be received. I put full faith in the making, focusing on satisfying that need for exploration, and I find people naturally gravitate towards this kind of work anyway. It is crucial I make time for this and a lot of the joy in my work comes from new ideas rather than reproducing the same styles over and over.

How do you see this manifesting in your work’s evolution? Have you noticed any particular design traits that you continually employ; anything that feels especially Camille?

I think it is the combination of traditional forms interpreted in an organic way, alongside sweet, playful motifs carved loosely and with an earthy feel, that has become a signature of my work. Also, my gem settings feel very much like me. Bead setting was the first technique I taught myself, and it has become abundant in my work. I imagine it always will be.

This collection seems to mark an expansion of your practice, employing a greater swath of abstract configurations and styles that extend beyond traditional jewelling. What inspired this progression? Your home is this beautiful site of contact between so many diverse artistic mediums (the hand-tufted rugs that hug your floors, ceramics, lighting fixtures, curtains), do you find that these influences bleed into your work?

For my last exhibition, I had started playing with larger scale earrings and for the last year I had also been experimenting with simple ear cuff designs. I began to see how combining the cuff with the large line earrings and how this idea meant I was less limited to shape and weight as I was previously with the earrings needing to hang well off hooks. Through this I could create something unexpected, something that utilised the entire ear and work I would genuinely be excited to see myself. 

My mind is flooded daily with new ideas and projects, something my partner is very patient with. Whether it is a new paint colour I must have in our house, a vase to show off flowers for our garden, or beading a mobile for our future child, our home is filled with things that stem from my chaotic brain. I find it difficult to focus on just one creative outlet at a time. It all feels closely linked. The fish bones on the last rug I tufted are seen in my jewellery. The butterflies beaded with skulls and flowers connect back as well. There is a thread running through it all, a theme and style that feels inherently mine and all show off the forms, colours, and ideas I am drawn to at any given time.

I understand that this collection came to fruition over months of great change/evolution in your life; both personal and vocational. Is there a particular piece that you feel grew with you, or out of you, throughout this process?

There is no single piece I could point to, but all of my work has felt like a form of escapism from some difficult experiences over the past year, both personal and from witnessing the heartbreak unfolding across the world. I know my work is a safe place to fall back on when my mind feels overrun with sadness. Creating the collection for Public Record has been a wonderful form of distraction. I do feel that last year I created some of my most ambitious bespoke pieces to date, and I am deeply grateful to the clients who continue to challenge me and push me to develop my abilities.

As a ring maker, engagement rings and wedding bands comprise a huge portion of your commissions. I wondered what relationship you have, as a queer woman, to these symbols so steeped in heterosexual tradition.

I love that my work revolves so heavily around love. While I do not necessarily see myself getting married, I made rings for my partner, Olivia, and me. It is the best tradition (in my opinion). We need more gestures of love in this world, no matter who it is between. Seeing couples getting excited about their day and being a part of that story is magic and I am so grateful that my day-to-day is filled with so much of this joy. I have to admit that when a queer couple comes to me for rings, it brings an extra layer of joy. Being queer myself, they can trust I am a safe place for them.

In previous conversations, you had described the act of making as being instinctual, rather than guided by some conscious force. It’s a practice that feels futile to verbalise, or qualitate in words. I wondered, instead, what feelings or thoughts are elicited when you create? Can you attempt to describe the sensation it brings you?

It feels less like a choice and more like an urge, a way to communicate and to feel at ease in the world. I could describe it as meditative, though I am rarely serene while I work. Still, making feels instinctive, and when I am not creating, I start to feel unsettled. I come from a family of artists. Growing up, my mum always had her sculpture studio and my dad his painting studio. Making was a constant topic of conversation and an assumed part of our daily lives. My mum, especially, has a real affinity for creating art with children, and she nurtured that side of me in a way that was incredibly valuable. Making is so deeply embedded in my daily rhythm that without it, I believe I would feel a real sense of emptiness.

Wearing these pieces, secluded and surrounded by the flora of the Wainuiomata, felt like a surrender to the natural—both in the sense that this collection was inspired by forest forms, and that these pieces hail from, were brewed, deep inside the Earth. What drew you to this domain for inspiration?

That is a really lovely way to put it! I’m glad you got that sense from this collection. Days and days were spent over the last year in my mothers studio in Manakau, which is surrounded by native bush, a stream and a garden my parents built. During the many breaks in between making, we would be immersed in the nature around us, coffees by the pond or a walk to see what progress dad had made in the veggie garden or to walk the path that had been cleared in the bush. While nature has always fed into my work I think with this collection, being a joint one with my mum, we decided to dive deeper into this narrative and intentionally bring in motifs, colours and textures from what we were surrounded by.