About EBB
Meet the maker
Jewellery that moves with you.
Carrying protection, space and remembrance. A jewel doesn't change you. But it can remind you that you don't have to hold everythng alone.
Jewellery that moves with you.
Carrying protection, space and remembrance. A jewel doesn't change you. But it can remind you that you don't have to hold everythng alone.
“I didn’t start EBB because I wanted to make jewellery.
I started because I needed a place where feeling could exist without being fixed.”
EBB began quietly.
Not as a business plan. Not as reinvention. But as a return.
I am a mother of four boys; Léon, Felix, and twins Louie & Emile.
Our home is full. Rarely still. There is noise, negotiation, laughter, mud on shoes and conversations that are never quite finished.
Motherhood reshaped me more than any education. It taught me about surrender. About limits. About love that is physical and grounding.
It also taught me that care shouldn't just flow outward.
I love slow, unhurried mornings. Matcha and lots of tea. Preferably under a blanket on the couch. Nature in autumn. Working with my hands when the house is finally asleep, though that's rarely completely quiet.
I feel intensely.
And I've had to learn to maintain my boundaries.
And someone who had to learn how to stay with that depth — without drowning in it.
There was a time I stood between becoming a goldsmith and becoming a midwife.
Creating felt instinctive. But midwifery felt safer. More structured. Less exposed to judgment. So I chose midwifery.
For many years, I worked close to life. To birth, recovery, exhaustion, and the quiet aftermath of intense moments.
I learned how much the body carries, often long after words fall short.
Gradually, I began working more therapeutically.
Body-oriented. Present. Listening beyond language.
That work continues today.
Not rushed.
Not heroic.
But attentive.
I learned to sit with what is without trying to fix it.
At some point, I carried too much.
Responsibility. Emotional weight. Expectation.
Burn-out didn’t come dramatically.
It came as depletion. And in that slowing down, something resurfaced. Working with my hands and following my creativity.
Somewhere along the way, my hands became a language.
Making became a way to slow down. To listen without solving.
To let meaning take shape without asking it to explain itself.
Metal does not ask for emotional labour. It asks for presence.
I didn’t leave care behind.
Care simply changed shape.
I am a mother.
A body-oriented therapist. A maker.
EBB is not separate from my previous work. It grows from the same place.
A belief that not everything needs fixing. Some things simply need space.
—
With love,
Freya
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No noise. Only when it feels right.