Stage 2: Chain Linkages — Seven Good Links Out of Twenty-Four

The project currently on the bench is the bicycle chain ring—one of the Stage 2 projects in the apprenticeship. The piece is built from a repeating series of rectangular links, each drilled and assembled so the chain articulates like its mechanical inspiration. Repetition in jewelry is rarely forgiving. Each component must match the others closely enough that the whole chain comes together cleanly and precisely.

To begin this round of work, I rolled an ingot into sheet of a precise gauge and width. Even preparing the stock requires care: the strip must remain straight and consistent so the components that come from it begin on equal footing. From there the work becomes small and exacting—cutting, squaring, drilling, checking alignment, and constantly measuring. The first batch revealed just how narrow the tolerances are. A hole drifting even slightly off center becomes obvious once the links begin to assemble. The main mistake this week was assuming the first batch would “probably work.” It didn’t. When the holes drifted and the tolerances slipped, the only honest option was to reject most of the batch and start again. My first attempt produced twenty-four links. Only seven were usable. The rest went straight to the scrap tray.

After reviewing what went wrong, I began experimenting with a technique I’ve started calling sandwiching. Instead of shaping one piece at a time, I cut two strips and super-glued them together in perfect alignment, creating a temporary sandwich. Filing, shaping, and drilling the pair simultaneously means that when they are separated later—with a little heat or acetone—the parts are nearly identical. It’s a simple trick, but it dramatically improves repeatability when small parts need to match. I learned this approach years ago from a mentor, and it’s proving its worth again here.

That reset forced me to rethink the workflow: shorter strips, better support while drilling, and the sandwiching technique to keep parts consistent. The second batch is underway now. I have a handful of usable links—but still a way to go before reaching twenty-four identical ones.

Working metal with my hands—learning the old skills of the trade—gives me a sense of purpose. It’s satisfying work, a creative outlet, and a small way of adding something beautiful to the world. In its own quiet way, it also helps keep these traditional handcraft skills alive. Although I only began the apprenticeship recently, the idea of pursuing it has been quietly building for years. The turning point came last summer after attending Peter Keep’s stone-setting workshop in Victoria. It clarified something I had been circling for a long time: if I didn’t commit to this path now, I probably never would. Taking on this apprenticeship is my way of stepping further into that work—and also of pushing myself beyond what already feels comfortable. If you want to keep learning, you have to be willing to move past the edges of what you already know. Real learning rarely happens where we already feel comfortable. It reminds me of something David Bowie once said about artistic work:

“If you feel completely safe in what you’re doing, you’re probably not working in the right place. The interesting things happen when you move a little further into the water than feels comfortable—when your feet can’t quite touch the bottom.”

That’s where this apprenticeship lives for me right now. A little out of my depth. A little intimidating. And exactly where I need to be. Tomorrow morning, the files come back out and the next link gets made.