Forged in Steel: The Tools That Shaped American Jewelry

In Tucson, Arizona, a steel hub showcases the intricate wings of an Art Deco butterfly. "A guy made this with chisels and files," says Kevin Potter, founder of Potter USA. "It probably took him two weeks. This hub would have made gorgeous, top-quality brooches."

Potter’s collection includes over a million items—steel hubs, dies, punches, and rolling mills—each meticulously crafted. Many tools originated from Providence, Rhode Island, once the heart of the U.S. jewelry industry. Notably, hubs carved by Elio “Duke” Lossini, a master craftsman, created the Purple Heart and Silver Star military medals. Potter refers to these tools as "artifacts of labor," exemplifying the precision of their makers.

Jewelry tools reflect shifts in American society. The late 19th and early 20th centuries saw industrialization enable mass production, making adornments accessible to a growing middle class. Machines like drop presses replaced traditional hand tools, but artisans still left their mark. Art Deco hubs from the 1920s and 1930s blend mechanical efficiency with hand-finished detail, embodying the optimism of the era.

Economic cycles also influenced the industry. The Great Depression increased demand for inexpensive costume jewelry, often crafted from base metals. Wartime economies of the 1940s shifted metal supplies to military needs, leading to the production of insignia and medals instead of bracelets. Lossini’s hubs for military honors exemplify this transformation.

Providence’s prominence declined in the mid-20th century as overseas manufacturing provided cheaper options. Many American jewelry companies closed or relocated. By the late 1970s, the industry fractured, leaving behind tools, molds, and dies. Some were melted for scrap; others discarded. In the 1990s, Potter began rescuing these tools from defunct factories. "These are pieces of history," he states. "Not just of jewelry, but of the people who made it."

Today, Potter uses the collection to preserve traditional techniques. His company, Potter USA, sells modern tools inspired by historical designs, appealing to contemporary jewelers. On-site workshops teach techniques like die forming and repoussé, bridging industrial and artisanal practices. Visitors to Potter’s Tucson studio often feel as if they’ve entered a museum. Unlike museum artifacts, these tools remain functional, their utility intact.

The collection raises questions about preservation. Should these tools be viewed as industrial relics or as art? Potter believes they possess beauty in both form and function. "There’s incredible beauty in their form and function," he asserts. Jewelry historian Elyse Zorn Karlin emphasizes their storytelling role: "Each tool carries a narrative," she explains, "about the people who wielded it, the designs they dreamed of, and the society that wore their work."

The future of the collection remains uncertain. While Potter is dedicated to preservation, the scale presents challenges. For now, these tools continue to inspire curiosity and admiration, offering a tangible link to America’s craftsmen and women. They remind us of a time when beauty was forged in steel, one chisel stroke at a time.