By Felix Carroll
Photo above by Stephanie Zollshan
On a cold, clear evening in late 2022, Tim McClelland fired up an app on his phone to pinpoint the timing and trajectory of the International Space Station. For good reason, he stepped outside to spy it hurtling across the heavens like a diamond in the darkness. Its inhabitants included an astronaut who was a client of McClelland’s and had taken along some precious cargo: pinecone-shaped pendants designed and made by McClelland that she would later gift to loved ones.
True story.
“That was a huge honor,” he said.
In his 50-plus years fabricating fine jewelry—using ancient methods to create rings, necklaces, bracelets, cufflinks, earrings, and pendants whose aesthetic runs from the traditional to the avant garde—there have been many other honors, too. McClelland’s creations have adorned earthly stars roving the red carpets of Cannes and Hollywood. Prestige retailers such as Bergdorf Goodman and Barney’s New York have sold his creations.
Among his biggest honors includes what happened this past November: He officially opened the doors to his newest endeavor, the retail showroom and workshop TW McClelland & Daughters, in Great Barrington. Those “daughters” would be Sadie and Emma. Along with his wife, Carrie Harper, this business mostly constitutes a family affair—and a homecoming in more ways than one. Located in a jewel-box-shaped building at 597 Main St., this was the original location of McTeigue & McClelland, the renowned jewelry business he co-founded, which closed four years ago following a 25-year run.
“I’m back!” said McClelland, 66, mock dramatically (in truth, he can’t conceal his giddiness).
At 6 foot, 3 inches tall, and with hands the size of canned hams, McClelland looks more like a former point guard than a man who dons magnifying eyewear to create miniature sculptures in the form of intricate jewelry.
To explain his career choice, he defaults to an obvious explanation: His is a “vocation”; he was “called.” He has tender childhood memories in Michigan where he shared intimate moments with his grandmother marveling at the cleverness and lunacy of her eccentric jewelry collection. When he was 15, he saw fellow students in a rudimentary jewelry-making class casting silver coins into a small sculpture. Then and there he wanted to both understand the process and engage in it.
In 1975, McClelland enrolled in Boston University, where he studied metalsmithing and dove deep into modern, free-spirited jewelry design. On the other side of the city—on the other side of the artistic spectrum—he took an apprenticeship with the venerable jeweler Shreve, Crump & Low where, on creaky wooden benches among Old World artisans, he became erudite in European traditions and began a lifelong love affair with the technical and artistic particulars of masterpieces by the likes of René Lalique and Benvenuto Cellini.
He moved to New York City, and worked for years as a freelance designer, creator, and restorer for gem traders, auction houses, diamond dealers, and private clients. In 1996, with his young family, he moved to the Berkshires where he developed jewelry suitable to a rural, artsy clientele—eschewing powered-up bling for lower-key, even light-hearted, designs inspired by nature, “the teacher of all design,” he said. He particularly takes great delight in his heirloom-quality engagement rings, part of his “Wildflower Collection.” A decades-long endeavor, the collection doesn’t simply showcase stones as the main event. Rather, the stones share top billing with finely detailed and integrated metal work for which he holds design patents.
Heirloom quality rings from the Wildflower Collection; Photos by Starr Digital
Of course, much has changed in jewelry-making in recent years, but you wouldn’t know it climbing down into his workshop. Nowhere will you see the 3-D printing and computer-aided design techniques now thoroughly embraced by the world’s top jewelry makers. Rather, here you’ll see actual jewelers. McClelland is joined by Barbara Crocker and Steve Hyer. Together, the three of them utilize sketch books and metalsmithing and engineering methods first developed back in the age of antiquity. That is to say: fire, crucibles, raw metal, hammers, anvils, files, and rolling mills. They heat, bend, pound, assemble, and polish, just like René Lalique did—and Georg Jensen, Fabergé, and Louis Comfort Tiffany.
Why stick with the old ways?
“Because they are better,” McClelland said. “These pieces will last for generations. They’re beautiful, and they won’t fall apart.”
“The future,” he said, “will belong to those who value authenticity.”
Maybe that sounds starry-eyed? Can you blame him?
Consider his medium relies on precious metals formed billions of years ago through supernovas or the collision of stars—way beyond the orbital path of the International Space Station, way beyond the constellation of master jewelers within which McClelland comfortably resides.
