The Ups and Downs of the Creative Process: How Lina Came to Life

When I first started designing Lina, it was nothing more than a photocopy of a sketch — someone’s rough idea of what Sunscorched Australia jewellery might look like. I spent hours on the floor of my room with a pen and a pad, scribbling and sketching what can only be described as absolute garbage.

Criticism wasn’t hard to find, thankfully. Each new idea I shared with my friends was met with honesty — sometimes brutal, always necessary. I was told my handmade jewellery designs weren’t good enough, not sellable, too niche, too clunky.

There were moments I asked myself who I thought I was — why I believed I could start a handmade jewellery brand in Australia with no experience, just a dream and determination.

But the truth is, my motivation was born from long workdays, the housing crisis, and turning 30 wondering where the last decade had gone. I wanted to create something I was truly passionate about — something creative, sustainable, and inspired by the beauty of the Australian landscape. That’s how Sunscorched Australia began: from a love of Australiana-inspired jewellery and storytelling through design.

Those early months were tough and expensive. I invested in CAD designers and samples, learning the hard way that the creative process of jewellery making is full of trial and error. My measurements were off, my prototypes flawed. I tested my designs on my family, and soon we were finding tiny sapphire-blue nano stones scattered across the house — proof that even quality materials can fail when the design isn’t quite right.

But every failed piece taught me something. I learnt how jewellery structure affects durability, why small details matter, and how persistence shapes great design.

When Lina was finally finished, I felt proud. The 16k gold plating gleamed back at me (the 18k was too yellow for my taste), the prongs held the blue nano stones perfectly, and the moonstone sat secure in its base. We wore the jewellery day in and day out for weeks, and not once did a stone fall free.

When I showed my friends Lina, I was met with the sweetest surprise.
“Wait… I actually like it.”
“Really, you have to tell me if you don’t.”
“Trust me,” my friend Olivia said, turning a hoop over in her hand. “I would.”

In that moment, every sketch, every mistake, and every late-night design session felt worth it. That’s what the creative process is all about — failing, learning, and trying again until something beautiful emerges.

Lina became more than just a piece of handmade jewellery; it became a symbol of growth, resilience, and the courage to keep creating.