Some artists follow trends. Ali Vedad Yuner follows fish. More precisely, he follows the memory. As a boy on the Turkish coast, he watched silver bodies flash beneath the surface. That shimmer stayed with him. In time, it grew into a deep fascination with metal and later with jewelry itself.
Today, Yuner lives and works in Brooklyn. Yet his imagination still drifts toward the water. He trained first as an industrial designer at Pratt Institute, where he graduated with highest honors. Afterward, a short job in commercial jewelry left him restless. So he enrolled at the Rhode Island School of Design. There, he earned an MFA in Jewelry and Metalsmithing, and he also taught along the way.
During those years, Yuner built his practice around one stubborn idea. Jewelry, he believes, can reconnect people with the living world. His thesis even carries a fitting name, Ecospiritual Entanglement. Through that work, he treats adornment as a quiet act of faith. Moreover, he treats the body as a meeting place between humans and the wider ecosphere.
His methods range widely, and they often surprise people. On one hand, he sculpts in digital programs like ZBrush and Rhino. On the other hand, he carves wood and works metal by hand. Then he casts, prints, and finishes each piece with patient care. So he carves trees, bones, and biology into objects he calls beings. Once someone wears them, he says, those beings come alive.
Recently, Yuner launched his own label, Ali Vedad Yuner Jewelry, where wood and natural materials take center stage. Meanwhile, he models hardware for The Sample Room at Tory Burch. His calendar stays full as well. In 2026 alone, he shows at AUTOR in Bucharest and at SNAG in Tucson. After that, a residency at Haystack Mountain School of Craft awaits him in Maine. Critics have noticed as well. So Klimt02 profiled him, and Munich Jewelry Week featured his work. Then the Providence Journal covered his grad show.
We wanted to understand the thinking behind all of it. So we sat down with Yuner to talk about origins, faith, ecology, and craft. Throughout our conversation, he spoke softly but firmly. He returned again and again to one feeling, the sense of being small inside a vast and living world.
You can explore his portfolio at alivedadyuner.com. For finished pieces, visit alivedadyunerjewelry.com. For now, here is Ali Vedad Yuner in his own words.
Origins on the Coast
New York Art Life Magazine: You grew up near the water in Turkey. What do you remember most about the fish there?
Ali Vedad Yuner: I remember the light first, before anything else. When the sun hit the shallows, the fish turned into living mirrors. So I would stand at the edge for ages, just watching them flicker. Honestly, it felt like the sea was full of loose coins. Then a single fish would dart, and the whole surface would scatter into silver. That image never left me.
Even now, I chase that exact shimmer in metal. Because of those mornings, I learned to love surfaces that catch and bend light. Moreover, I learned that beauty often hides inside ordinary things. A fish is humble, after all, yet it glows like treasure. So I stopped separating the plain from the precious. Instead, I started seeing both at once. In a way, every polished piece I make still points straight back to that coast. Therefore, my whole practice begins with a memory of water and light.
My family was not wealthy, so the sea became my treasury. Then every catch felt like jewelry pulled straight from the water. Because of that, I never split nature from adornment. So the two ideas fused early, and they never came apart again.
New York Art Life Magazine: How did that early fascination turn into a serious love of metal?
Ali Vedad Yuner: At first, it had nothing to do with jewelry. Instead, I simply loved how metal behaved under pressure. It could feel soft and stubborn at the very same time. So I started noticing anything shiny and worked by hand. Doorknobs, spoons, coins, and fish scales all caught my eye. Later, I realized something deeper about the material. Metal holds memory. When you bend it, it remembers the bend. When you polish it, it remembers the light.
Because of that, metal felt almost alive to me. Moreover, it felt patient, as though it could carry a story for centuries. That patience is really what drew me in. Honestly, I wanted a material that would outlast me. So metal answered a quiet wish for permanence. Eventually, I stopped wanting to admire it from a distance. Instead, I wanted to shape it with my own hands. Therefore, the fascination slowly hardened into a craft, and then into a whole life.
From Industrial Design to the Bench
New York Art Life Magazine: You studied Industrial Design at Pratt before jewelry. Why begin there?
Ali Vedad Yuner: Honestly, I did not know jewelry was a path yet. So I chose the broadest design degree I could find. Industrial design taught me how objects truly work in the hand. It also taught me how real people use everyday things. Because of that training, I still think about function first. Moreover, I learned to prototype fast and test ideas without fear. At Pratt, I built models constantly, and I failed constantly too. Yet each failure handed me a useful lesson.
Outside class, I chased experience wherever I could. So I interned at Morphi, where I built models for a 3D app. Then I worked at Eight Inc and rebuilt their materials library. Because of those jobs, I learned to move from idea to object very quickly. In the end, I graduated with highest honors, though the grades matter less to me now. What lasted was the mindset. Later, I simply pointed that whole toolkit at the body. Therefore, my jewelry still carries an industrial designer’s logic underneath the poetry.
New York Art Life Magazine: Before RISD, you worked in commercial jewelry. What did that job teach you?
Ali Vedad Yuner: It taught me speed, and it also taught me limits. As a CAD designer at Sasha Primak, I prepared wax models for casting every day. So I learned the production side inside and out. I ran resin and wax printers from Formlabs and 3D Systems. Then I modeled in Rhino and ZBrush for hours at a time. Because the work moved fast, I grew truly fluent with the tools. However, the work slowly left me restless.
Every design served a market, not a feeling. After a while, that gap began to ache. So I started sketching my own ideas late at night. Eventually, those night sketches felt far more honest than my paid work. Moreover, they carried meaning, not just margins. Honestly, I respect commercial jewelry and the skill it demands. Yet I knew I needed something more. Therefore, that restlessness became fuel. In the end, the job showed me exactly what I did not want, and that clarity proved priceless.
These days, I still keep one foot in production. So I model handbags and fashion hardware for The Sample Room at Tory Burch. Because that role demands precision, it sharpens my technical eye daily. Then I carry that sharpness back to my own bench at night. Honestly, the two worlds feed each other more than people expect. Therefore, I no longer treat commercial work as the enemy. Instead, I treat it as steady practice that quietly funds the art.
New York Art Life Magazine: What finally pushed you toward an MFA in Jewelry and Metalsmithing?
Ali Vedad Yuner: I needed room to ask bigger questions. In commercial work, the only real question stayed simple. Will it sell? Meanwhile, I wanted to ask why we wear objects at all. So RISD felt like exactly the right place to dig. There, nobody rushed me toward a price tag. Instead, I could follow one idea for months on end. Because of that freedom, my real subject finally surfaced.
I began studying jewelry as a link between people and the living world. So the work turned from product into philosophy. Then it turned from philosophy back into objects, but richer ones. Honestly, I could never have reached that place on a production floor. Moreover, the program gave me teachers and peers who pushed me hard. We argued, we questioned, and we grew together. Therefore, the MFA was less a career move and more a kind of permission. In the end, RISD let me become the maker I had been hiding.
Faith, Smallness, and Ecology
New York Art Life Magazine: Your statement calls jewelry an object of faith. Can you unpack that?
Ali Vedad Yuner: Sure, and gladly. First, think about how long jewelry survives. Unlike written history, it rarely suffers rewriting by those in power. Instead, it stays safe in museums, in guilds, and in the memory of makers. So it carries belief across centuries with little distortion. Because of that endurance, jewelry can act like a quiet thread of faith. The wearer reaches toward something larger, and the object holds that reach steady.
For me, faith here does not mean one single religion. Rather, it means trust in a larger existence. Moreover, it means admitting that we are not the center of everything. So the piece becomes a small vow you can wear on your skin. Then every glance at it renews the vow. Honestly, that idea moves me deeply. Objects keep promises better than memory does. Therefore, I design jewelry to anchor belief in something true. In short, the work becomes a portable act of faith.
New York Art Life Magazine: You write often about human minuteness. Why does feeling small appeal to you?
Ali Vedad Yuner: Most people fear feeling small. Honestly, I find comfort in it instead. When I feel tiny, I also feel held by something vast. So smallness reminds me that the Earth came first and will outlast us. Because of that, I stop trying to dominate the world around me. Instead, I start to truly notice it. A leaf, a shell, or a bone suddenly matters. Moreover, that shift feels like relief rather than defeat.
We carry so much pressure to feel important. Yet the planet never asked us to be. So I want to lift that weight, at least a little. Then people might breathe easier inside their own lives. Because my pieces whisper that message, they work quietly. They do not shout. Therefore, wearing one becomes a small daily reminder. In the end, smallness is really a strange kind of freedom. So I treat it as a gift, not a wound, and I share it through the work.
New York Art Life Magazine: You grew up in a dense urban setting. How does that shape the work?
Ali Vedad Yuner: It shapes everything, mostly through absence. Because I grew up surrounded by concrete, I felt cut off from ecology. So nature became something I longed for rather than lived inside. That longing now drives my whole practice. Honestly, my pieces are little bridges back to a world I missed. Moreover, they let me carry a fragment of that world on my body.
When I wear a carved bone or a seed, I feel connected again. So the jewelry repairs a gap that the city quietly created. Then it turns loss into something I can hold. Because the ache was personal, the work feels personal too. Instead of preaching, I simply share my own hunger. Therefore, other city dwellers often recognize the feeling. They grew up estranged from nature as well. In a sense, I make for the kid who only saw forests through a window. So the work reaches toward the green that the sprawl took away.
Beings That Come Alive
New York Art Life Magazine: Your thesis is titled Ecospiritual Entanglement. What does that name mean?
Ali Vedad Yuner: The name has three parts, and each one matters. First, eco points to ecology and the living web around us. Next, spiritual points to faith, awe, and meaning. Then entanglement points to the way these threads knot together. So the title argues that ecology and spirit cannot be cleanly separated. Instead, they tangle inside every object I make. Because of that, a ring is never simply a ring for me.
Rather, it is a small knot of body, belief, and biology. Moreover, the word entanglement feels honest about life itself. Nothing in nature stands fully alone. So everything leans on everything else. Then jewelry can model that truth on a human scale. Because we wear it close, the lesson stays close too. Therefore, my thesis tries to make the connection visible and wearable. Honestly, naming it took a long time. Yet once the words clicked, the whole body of work suddenly made sense to me.
Since finishing the thesis, the ideas have traveled further than I imagined. So Klimt02 featured my profile, and Munich Jewelry Week ran a paper campaign around the work. Then the Providence Journal covered the RISD grad show as well. Because the thesis became a published book, the argument now lives beyond my own voice. Honestly, that reach still surprises me. Therefore, I feel a duty to keep the writing as clear as the objects.
New York Art Life Magazine: You describe making beings that come alive once worn. What does that mean in practice?
Ali Vedad Yuner: I start by treating each piece as a creature, never a product. So I give it organs, bones, or evolved structures. Then I imagine where it might live and how it might move. While I carve, I keep asking what this being wants. Of course, it stays perfectly still on the bench. Yet something shifts the moment a person puts it on.
Suddenly, the warmth of skin meets the cold form. Moreover, the body lends it motion, pulse, and breath. So the being quietly borrows life from its wearer. In return, it reminds the wearer of every other living thing. Because of this exchange, the jewelry stops being mere decoration. Instead, it becomes a small companion. Then the relationship grows over time, like any bond. Honestly, people tell me their pieces start to feel personal. Therefore, I think the magic is real, even if it stays gentle. In the end, life passes between body and object, both ways.
New York Art Life Magazine: You often mention talismanic and apotropaic power. How literal is that?
Ali Vedad Yuner: It is partly literal and partly poetic. Historically, people wore charms to ward off harm. So I borrow that ancient logic on purpose. However, I am not promising magic in a strict sense. Rather, I am offering focus and clear intention. When you wear a talisman, you remember what you value most. Because of that memory, you tend to act a little differently.
So the power is real, even though it works through the mind. Moreover, my charms guard one specific thing. They guard your bond with the living world. Therefore, wearing one feels like keeping a promise close to your heart. Then the promise shapes small daily choices. Honestly, that is how old talismans worked, too. They reminded people of duty, courage, or care. So I simply update the tradition for an ecological age. In the end, protection through attention feels very real to me. Attention changes how we live, and that change protects what we love.
Tools, Wood, and the Workshop
New York Art Life Magazine: You move between ZBrush, Rhino, and the bench. How do the digital and the physical meet?
Ali Vedad Yuner: They meet constantly, and they feed each other. On the screen, I can sculpt forms that hands alone could never reach. So I push organic shapes far in ZBrush first. Then I bring those files into the real world through printing and casting. After that, the handwork truly begins. I file, carve, and finish until the piece feels warm and alive.
Because I trained in industrial design, the software never scares me. In fact, I once ran the 3D printing lab and laser cutter at RISD. Yet I refuse to stop at the screen. Honestly, a form only becomes real once I hold it in my palm. So I treat digital tools as a sketchbook, not a finish line. Moreover, the two methods correct each other. The computer dreams, while the hand reasons. Then together they reach somewhere neither could alone. Therefore, the hand always gets the final say, and that feels right to me.
New York Art Life Magazine: Your new label leans on wood and natural materials. Why move toward them?
Ali Vedad Yuner: I have not abandoned metal at all. Instead, I simply widened my vocabulary. Wood carries a warmth that metal cannot quite match. Moreover, it once grew, so it already harbors life. That history fits my themes perfectly. So I started carving wood and pairing it with other natural materials. Because these materials come straight from the living world, they prove my point by simply existing.
A wooden pendant already was a tree, after all. Therefore, it needs no translation into my ideas. Then there is the matter of access. Through the label, I make work that more people can actually afford. So the philosophy reaches more hands and more necks. You can browse those pieces at alivedadyunerjewelry.com. Honestly, accessibility matters to me as much as concept does. Ideas should circulate, not sit behind glass. Therefore, the wood pieces carry the same soul at a friendlier price. In the end, the material shift only deepened my message.
Of course, the wood demands a different patience. Because each grain runs its own way, I must listen before I cut. So the material teaches me, rather than the other way around. Then the finished piece keeps a little wildness inside it. Honestly, that wildness is exactly what I want.
New York Art Life Magazine: Could you walk us through the process of making a single piece, from idea to finish?
Ali Vedad Yuner: It usually starts with a feeling, not a sketch. First, I sit with an emotion, like awe or grief. Then I search for a natural form that matches it. A bone, a pod, or a fin might fit the mood. Next, I sculpt that form digitally to test its proportions. After that, I print or cast a first rough version. Soon, I am holding it, turning it, and judging its weight.
Because the body is the real gallery, I always try it on. Then I adjust the piece until it sits right against the skin. Moreover, I check how it moves when the wearer moves. So comfort and meaning have to agree before I continue. Finally, I finish the surface so it catches light like those childhood fish. Honestly, that last step always feels like coming home. Therefore, every piece quietly returns to where I began. In the end, the coast hides inside the polish, every single time.
Teaching, Shows, and the Road Ahead
New York Art Life Magazine: At RISD, you designed and taught a course called ZBrush for Jewelry. What did you want students to leave with?
Ali Vedad Yuner: Mostly, I wanted them to lose their fear. Many makers think software feels cold or too technical. So I tried hard to show them the opposite. In my class, ZBrush became just another carving tool. Because students already trusted their hands, I linked the screen to the bench. Then their digital forms started to feel personal and warm.
Moreover, I wanted them to dream bigger than the metal allowed. With software, they could test wild ideas cheaply and fast. Honestly, watching that click happen was the best part of teaching. So I kept the lessons playful on purpose. Play removes fear faster than rules ever do. I also assisted other teachers, like Everett Hoffman, JOFF, and Daniela Malev. Because of them, I saw many ways to guide a maker. Yet my own lesson stayed the same throughout. Therefore, my real goal was confidence, not just technique. In the end, a brave maker beats a merely skilled one every time.
New York Art Life Magazine: 2026 looks busy, with AUTOR in Bucharest, SNAG in Tucson, and a Haystack residency. What lies ahead?
Ali Vedad Yuner: It is a big year, and I feel genuinely grateful for it. First, I show at SNAG in Tucson for an exhibition called Mineral Minded. You can read more at snagmetalsmith.org. Then I travel to AUTOR in Bucharest, which excites me deeply. After those shows, I head to the Haystack Mountain School of Craft in Maine.
Because that residency offers quiet and space, I plan to experiment freely there. Moreover, I want to push my woodwork much further. So I will test larger forms and stranger creatures. Then I will see which ones survive the bench.
AUTOR especially means a lot to me. Because it gathers contemporary jewelers from across Europe, the hall buzzes with fresh ideas. So I plan to bring my newest beings there. Then I want to learn from everyone in that room. Beyond the shows, I also carry two residency awards into the year. So Haystack in Maine and an RISD award both hand me precious studio time. Honestly, time is the rarest material of all.
Over the next decade, I hope to blur the line between jewelry and small living monuments. Honestly, that is my real ambition. So I will keep carving beings and making them come alive. Above all, I want people to feel less alone on this planet. In the end, that feeling is the entire reason I make anything at all.
As our talk wound down, Yuner glanced toward the window and smiled. So the sea still swims through everything he builds. For now, his beings wait quietly on the bench, ready to wake the moment someone slips them on.
