Stage 2: Snowflake Pendant - Twenty-Four Solder Joints and One Final Rivet

Stage 2: Snowflake Pendant - Twenty-Four Solder Joints and One Final Rivet

This post is part of my ongoing apprenticeship in traditional goldsmithing through Jewellery Training Solutions, under master goldsmith Peter Keep. You can read the full bench journal and follow the project sequence on the Apprenticeship Journey page.

This week I finished the snowflake pendant, the final project of Stage 2 of the apprenticeship. With that last piece complete, I have now finished ten of the fifty projects in the Jewellery Training Solutions apprenticeship program. Twenty percent done. I am proud of that, and if I am honest, still a little surprised that I have already come this far.

The pendant itself turned out to be far more interesting than I expected. I was not especially excited about it at the outset, but by the end it had won me over. Peter’s version is made in brass, but I chose sterling silver. It is a snowflake, after all. Silver simply felt right for the form. The finished piece has a bright, sculptural quality to it. It is intricate without becoming fussy, and it has enough presence that I could easily imagine it being worn as a statement pendant rather than merely treated as a training exercise.

The construction begins with two matching halves. Each half is made from four shaped silver wire lobes, soldered together at the centre and then formed into a shallow dome. The geometry mattered from the first cut. Every lobe needed to be as close to identical as I could make it. I spent a great deal of time measuring, comparing, adjusting, and checking again before soldering anything together. I even brought a protractor to the bench to confirm the angles before committing to the joints. It sounds excessive until you remember that once those parts are joined and domed, any asymmetry becomes much harder to hide.

The first attempt at forming the domed halves did not go well. Both pieces cracked apart at the centre. I had been too restrained with solder, following the habit of using as little as possible, but in this case the joint needed more strength. The contact area was too small, and the doming method I used placed most of the stress directly onto that fragile centre point. It was a useful failure. I cleaned the parts, increased the contact area, made a wider solder seam, and changed the forming method completely.

From measured geometry to finished form: laying out the pendant’s wire lobes with a protractor, pressing the domed halves into shape over an improvised trailer-hitch forming tool, holding one gallery section steady for soldering, and the completed sterling silver snowflake pendant — twenty-four solder joints and one final tube rivet later.

That change led to one of the more satisfying bits of improvisation I have had at the bench. In the instruction video, Peter uses a large polished steel ball mounted like a forming stake. I did not have anything like that on hand, and I was not interested in stalling the project while chasing another specialized tool. Looking at what his setup actually needed to accomplish, I remembered the trailer hitch ball from my car. It is about two inches in diameter, which made it remarkably well suited to the job. I sanded the surface enough to remove the worst of the grit, then used it as a shaping form, supporting the centre carefully and pressing the petals down one by one with my fingers. No hammering. No forcing. It worked perfectly.

Once the two domed halves were complete, I moved on to the interior gallery work — the additional silver wires that give the snowflake its more elaborate, three-dimensional structure. I did not realize until after the soldering was finished that this stage involved twenty-four solder joints in total, twelve on each half. Had I done that count beforehand, I may have been more anxious going in. Instead, I simply worked through them one at a time.

The soldering went better than I expected, and that felt significant. Each joint was fitted carefully before heat entered the equation. I paid close attention to work holding, torch control, and the exact placement of tiny solder pallions. I used hard solder for the earlier operations, then moved down to medium solder once more joints were already in place. That way I could continue adding new structure without undoing the work I had already completed. It was delicate soldering, but it did not feel chaotic. A few months ago, I would have approached that much wire assembly with far more uncertainty. This time, the previous projects had clearly done their work.

By Friday, only the final assembly remained. The two halves needed to be joined through the centre with a tube rivet. I drew down the sterling tube to the correct size in the morning and could have pushed through to the finish right away, but I was tired after a poor night’s sleep. The riveting itself was not a long job, but it was a high-stakes one. If I damaged the centre or distorted the pendant at that point, I would not be replacing a loose component. I would likely be remaking an entire half. So I stopped.

Later in the day, when I felt sharper, I returned to the bench. I drilled the centre holes to the correct diameter, cut the tube rivet to length, and set it in place with as much care as I could manage. Every tap of the hammer was deliberate. The rivet seated cleanly. The halves stayed aligned. The pendant was finished.

And with that, Stage 2 was complete.

Looking back across this stage, I learned a great deal from the pieces that felt most like finished jewellery rather than pure exercises: the bicycle chain ring, the tube-link bracelet, the gyroscope ring, the spinning top pendant, and now this snowflake pendant. Those projects did more than build technique. They sharpened my sense of form, structure, and design. The gyroscope ring still resonates with me most strongly, but the snowflake pendant surprised me in a similar way. Both have a distinct, evocative quality that makes them feel memorable.

The larger lesson, though, may be about discipline. Something has clicked over these past months. I am treating the apprenticeship like a job now, not like something I get to when the mood strikes. The four-year clock began on October 1, 2025, and I feel it running. I show up in the studio early in the morning and return again in the evening. I am committed to putting in the hours. I am more patient than I used to be, more willing to remake parts, and less inclined to see failure as wasted effort. The difficult projects are difficult for a reason. They are where the growth is.

Stage 3 begins with five sterling silver rings, each involving stone setting. I have already ordered the half-drilled pearl for the first ring and an oval faceted amethyst for a later project, and I have checked that the other stones I will need are either already in stock or accounted for. I do not want unnecessary delays between stages.

Stage 2 is behind me now. Stage 3 is waiting. I am ready to hit the ground running.

Back to the bench. For the next chapter, check in here next week—and follow along on Instagram @pinedaandco.

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