People imagine machines. The truth is a wooden bench under a north-facing window, a jam jar of pliers, and spools of wire sorted by color into old seed drawers.
Each morning starts the same way: the orders are read aloud (yes, aloud), and each piece is assigned to a corner of the bench. Necklaces by the window, earrings by the lamp, hairpins wherever the cat is not sitting.
A finished piece takes between two and six hours. It is slow. It is supposed to be. Fast wire looks like fast wire.