I’m not Esther. I’m Carly.
The name Esther belonged to my great-grandmother, Esther Zimmerman, and now my mother, Rosemary Esther. I borrowed this name from these women to encapsulate my feeling that art should be just like them: bold, sincere, and down to earth. Like these women, art should enliven everyday life.
I have always been an artist. Beginning with a toddler-sized easel, palette, and beret, I have at one point or another been obsessed with theatre, creative writing, and photography. I have made realistic drawings and paper mache masks, collages and scarves, abstract paintings and clay figurines. I find so much inspiration in my trips to art galleries and time spent in nature.
The only thing I like more than creating something new is sharing it with a friend. When I started making jewelry, it thrilled me to see people wearing my art! I was reminded of the pride that comes from expressing yourself with intentionality.
Today, in its earliest iteration, Esther Studio shares bold, sincere, down-to-earth jewelry to help you make a statement every day. I sincerely welcome you to the world of Esther. I hope you like it here.
My mom’s family really went through it. Her grandmother, Esther, married Arthur and together they welcomed three little girls: Florence, Carmen, and Gertrude (Trudy). When Arthur later died from complications following his service in World War I, Esther was left to raise the girls solo. With few opportunities in the Ottawa Valley, Esther did everything she could to keep them afloat. She cooked and did laundry at local hunting and fishing camps, and raised and sold canaries. Later, Esther’s three girls would go on to have families of their own, and Esther became a beloved grandmother.
Esther’s daughter Trudy was my grandmother. She and my grandfather, Ray, had six children, including my mom, Rosemary Esther. Trudy threw herself into motherhood but, in my mom’s words, found herself later when she started working as an administrative assistant in a school. I often think about how her life was marked with tragedy. Over the years, my grandparents lost two of their girls (my mom’s triplet sisters). Trudy suffered a stroke before I was born, leaving her left side paralyzed as she struggled with daily pain.
When I think about these women, I am grateful that they set everything in motion for my family. Despite their hardships, they laid out a path so my mom and I could explore our passions. My mom, in particular, is a gifted artist, and her medium of choice is horticulture. Her gardens are envy-inducing: dense, lush webs of color and texture home to birds and bugs and an alarming number of chipmunks. If you need advice on an ailing plant, Rosemary is your 911.
I did not inherit my mom’s gift with greenery, which is a sore spot for me, but we do share our aesthetic inclinations. My mom taught me about the significance of a signature perfume. (Hers is Calvin Klein’s Eternity.) She showed me the power of lipstick on a bare face. (Since we share the same complexion, we look great in the same shades of red and pink.) Her jewelry collection is vast and sprawling, but patterns emerge nonetheless. (Simple solid gold for everyday wear, statement pieces for special occasions.) I am lucky to have had her influence and her hand-me-downs.
In introducing you to the Esthers, I want to show the complexity and joy of womanhood. I want to show you that we are strong and soft, brave and vulnerable, vivid and quiet. I want to show you that the way we talk about ourselves matters, and that we deserve so much more than what history has given us.
If you are reading this: hello! I see you. I want the best for you. Here’s to better and better.
