Originally from Melbourne, Alexander spent his early career immersed in the world of fine jewellery, working for international houses Bulgari and Cartier before joining the team at Gray Reid Gallery in Melbourne's prestigious jewellery district.
Alexander studied Fine Arts at RMIT, majoring in sculpture and in 2011, he graduated from a two-year intensive gemmology course through the Gemmological Association of Australia, a foundation that would shape what followed.
Alexander made the life-changing decision to leave Melbourne and relocate to Jaipur in 2016. Jaipur, Rajasthan being one of the world's great centres of gemstone trade and jewellery craft.
It was there that he established Alexander Gems & Jewels, a business built on a rare combination of rigorous gemmological expertise, a sculptor's eye, and a deep respect for the traditional Indian making techniques perfected by artisans over generations.
Today, Alexander consults, creates and sources exceptional bespoke pieces for clients around the globe - ranging from carved gemstone rings set in pure gold kundan, to antique diamonds and coloured stones of remarkable rarity, each one as he puts it, ‘as unique as the person who wears it’.
We sat down with Alexander to talk about the leap from Melbourne to Jaipur, the art of working with master craftspeople, and what it means to create jewellery that tells a story.
Can you share a bit about your background & upbringing? Did your early life shape your artistic journey? (Was there a specific moment or event during your early years that sparked your interest in art or jewellery design).
My fascination with jewellery began long before I ever made a piece. My grandparents were passionate travellers and adventurers. During the Second World War, my grandfather spent time in India and Pakistan, while my grandmother later travelled extensively through Nepal, Turkey, Iran, Afghanistan, Pakistan and India. Their home was filled with minerals and curio, each carrying its own story.
As a child, I strictly wasn't allowed to handle these objects, but I was always encouraged to ask about them. My grandmother would smoke cigarettes while I sat on the floor and tell me where each piece came from, how it was made and why it mattered. Those conversations taught me that objects could hold history, craftsmanship and deeply personal meaning.
As I grew older and began travelling through many of these same countries myself, I realised how much richer and more nuanced their cultures were than the simplified versions I had encountered in school textbooks. That curiosity eventually led me to India, where I have now spent much of the last decade learning from craftspeople and discovering jewellery traditions that continue to shape my work today.
How did you transition from your initial interest in jewellery to starting making? Were there any particular influences or mentors that guided you along the way?
Looking back, my grandmother’s stories laid the foundation for both my artistic journey and my belief that jewellery should do more than simply decorate the body. It should preserve culture, craftsmanship and human stories.
I had always been creative and interested in jewellery, but my time working for Bulgari and Cartier, both of which provided comprehensive jewellery training, deepened that interest. In 2011 I completed a diploma in gemmology.
Alister Reid of Gray Reid Gallery nurtured my fascination with gemstones, jewellery and history. Alister is an encyclopaedia of knowledge, with no shortage of wonderful stories to share.
Aside from a few short courses post university, I did not seriously develop my own creative practice until 2012, when I took a metal casting course with Justin Boheme. Justin is a well known eccentric and exceptionally imaginative jewellery maker. An alchemist, Justin taught us that our imagination was our only limitation. He shared his knowledge generously, introducing us to practical wax forming techniques and encouraging us to recognise the potential for jewellery components in everyday objects as well as in nature. Through his course, I learnt how to translate sculptural ideas into miniature forms.
Justin’s creative approach, combined with Alister’s free flowing knowledge of jewellery history, helped me begin connecting the dots. I came to appreciate jewellery and form differently, not just as adornment, but as something both playful and deeply rooted in history and culture that we wear, inhabit and interact with.
After moving to India, I met jewellery designer Adrian Lewis by chance while sourcing gemstones in Jaipur. Adrian is a perfectionist with exceptional technical skills, a sophisticated style and a highly creative eye. He encouraged me to see how India’s ancient making traditions could be viewed through a contemporary lens without stripping them of their origins, cultural context or place in history.
What is and where do you find your inspiration?
Ever since I was a child I would attach myself to objects. Natural wonders and the shiny things.
I find inspiration all over the place. Found objects like broken glass or stones, architecture, nature and divas. My handmade silver clasps are based on how a chain fixes to the back of a 'Goods Carrier' truck I was once stuck behind in traffic. The functionally mundane.
South Asia is home to some of the oldest living cultures in the world. Historically, India has been not only a melting pot of people, ideas and traditions from across the globe, but also the home of countless ancient indigenous cultures, with both their own distinct and shared customs, beliefs and histories.
A friend of mine often says, "There are many India's within India." Before I lived here, I wasn't sure what that meant. The diversity is extraordinary. Every region, community and tradition has its own visual language, and I don't know if there is another place in the world where jewellery is woven so completely into everyday life. It is an endless source of inspiration.
In India, everyone wears jewellery. Gold, silver, brass, bone, stone, lac, glass or even plastic. It's all worn with pride, every single day. I think that's fabulous.
Living here has changed the way I think about jewellery. My surroundings constantly inspire me, but not simply because they are beautiful. I find myself drawn to the way people interact with the objects they wear. Jewellery here is generally not just decorative. It is touched, held, stacked, passed down, repaired, gifted and lived with.
I've always been fascinated by why people become attached to certain objects, and in India that connection is impossible to ignore. It is far more unusual to meet someone wearing no jewellery than someone adorned with it. Most pieces carry meaning beyond their appearance. They can signify faith, family, community, life stage or identity. Some instantly identify the wearer as belonging to a particular region or culture, while others tell more contemporary stories rooted in aesthetics that are centuries old.
It is this relationship between people and the objects they wear that inspires my own work. When I create a piece, I think about much more than how it looks. I consider how it feels in the hand, its weight, texture and temperature, how it moves with the body, and how it invites interaction. For me, those tactile qualities are every bit as important as the visual impact. The most meaningful jewellery isn't simply admired but it becomes part of the person who wears it.
What do you feel sets your jewellery apart from others? How does your personal story and experiences reflect in the pieces you create?
I think what sets my jewellery apart is my emphasis on tactility, genuinely unusual gemstones, and the use of a diverse collection of contemporary and traditional making techniques, some of which are barely understood outside India. Those elements not only distinguish my work, but also reflect my own personal story.
I don't personally fabricate my pieces. Instead, they are brought to life by an extraordinary network of independent karigars (artisans) that I have met over the years living in Jaipur. There isn't a single workshop anywhere in the world that houses craftspeople specialising in all of the techniques I work with. Some of these artisans I found entirely by chance, others through introductions, and many I spent countless hours tracking down because I had become fascinated by a particular process or historical technique.
What makes this approach so special is that these workshops generally don't communicate or collaborate with one another. Every piece is the result of me acting as the bridge between different specialists, translating ideas from one discipline to another and understanding the limitations and possibilities of each technique. The final outcome is therefore something that couldn't exist without those relationships or that accumulated knowledge.
Because everything is made entirely by hand, there is always an element of unpredictability. A gemstone may suggest a different design once it is in hand, a craftsman may solve a problem in an unexpected way, or a subtle detail may emerge during the making process. I embrace that. To me, it is evidence that a piece has been made by human hands rather than manufactured by a machine.
That same unpredictability also extends to timeframes. Working with independent artisans, many of whom practise increasingly rare techniques, means deadlines are sometimes fluid. I am very upfront about that with clients. If someone expects absolute uniformity and rigid production schedules, then I am probably not the right person for them. But for those who value individuality, craftsmanship and the story behind an object, that unpredictability is part of what makes each piece so meaningful.
What do you wish more people understood about the craft?
One of the greatest lessons India has taught me is that jewellery isn't simply made by skilled hands, it's made by people whose work is inseparable from their families, communities, traditions, and beliefs.
The workshops I work with are often informal, family run spaces where generations have practised the same craft. That means a birth, a death, a wedding, a festival, extreme weather, or even an astrologically significant day can bring work to a halt. And that's okay. That's simply how life works here. History and modern life aren't in conflict, they exist alongside one another in a harmony of sorts. Life is allowed to happen. Isn't that more human?.
Another thing that has become increasingly obvious to me came after I shared a recent reel about an ancient Indian jewellery making technique. A surprising number of people immediately described it as a "version of" a similar Western technique, rather than considering that the Western approach may itself have evolved from a much older Indian tradition.
With the wealth of historical information now available, I find it curious that there is still such reluctance to acknowledge India's influence on the history of (but not only) jewellery making. Time and again, techniques that originated here are framed through a Western lens, despite India having practised them for centuries, and in many cases, millennia.
People often say, "They don't make things the way they used to." After years of living and working in India, I can confidently say that they do. The difference is that fewer people are willing to invest in objects made that way.
We have become accustomed to fast fashion, instant gratification and mass production. The idea of waiting months for a bespoke piece that passes through eight pairs of hands across five specialist workshops feels almost unimaginable, especially when we expect to see the finished result before it even exists. In many ways, we've become disconnected from both the physical process of making and the human hands behind it.
Across India, artisans continue to create jewellery using techniques that have changed remarkably little over generations. These are not museum demonstrations or revived traditions; they are living crafts, practised every day by people whose knowledge has been passed down through families and communities.
These traditions are still alive and don't survive because of nostalgia. They survive because extraordinary craftspeople continue to practise them. With over 70% of jewellery being mass produced, without continued patronage, techniques do disappear.
That is what I wish more people understood.
Any advice to aspiring jewellery artists?
My advice would be to spend less time looking at jewellery on a screen and more time holding it in your hands. Visit workshops, museums and markets. Talk to the people who make jewellery, not just those who sell it. The more you understand how something is made, the more thoughtful your own work will become.
The world is full of techniques, materials and traditions that are rarely taught in formal education. Some of the most valuable lessons I've learnt have come from sitting in workshops, watching karigars who have spent decades perfecting skills that are almost invisible to the outside world.
It takes years to develop an eye, to understand proportion, colour and materials, and to build relationships with the people who make exceptional jewellery. In an industry that increasingly rewards speed and visibility, there is still enormous value in patience, curiosity and craftsmanship. Those qualities never go out of fashion.