Jeweler Pippa Small’s New Collection Was Hand-Forged 4,000 Meters Up in Bolivia

The air is cold and crisp, the light laser-sharp, and the sun feels close enough to touch amid the bustle of finding a taxi and heading bumper to bumper down the mountain from El Alto airport to La Paz.

I have been coming to Bolivia for years, and every time the massive landscapes around the city take my breath away and somehow reset my sense of properties, as only being humbled by the proximity of the sacredness and magnificence of nature can do.

The city spills like a lava flow with houses clinging to cliff edges and sharp ravines, and like molten liquid, humanity covers every part of this mountainside. Around the city the protective sacred mountain of Illimani stands guard with its shiny, snowy peaks.

I started to work in Bolivia in order to support a cooperative gold mine called Cotopata that would become the first certified Fairtrade gold mine in the world—a huge feat for a mine that was small and set deep in the cloud forest on the way to the Yungas. There was no road to the mine and all equipment was carried in on mule or men’s backs.

It was through the head of the mine cooperative that I met Javier. Javier started to learn goldsmithing from his uncle when he was 11. At 14 he followed his father down into the mines where he worked for a year. Twice he survived collapsed tunnels and watched as friends lost their lives in the mine. Eventually he decided to focus full time on goldsmithing.

It always astounds me when I see Javier studying granules of gold dust or tiny nuggets. He can tell not only from which mountain they came, but also where on the mountain the gold was found due to its shape, surface texture, and porousness. I find this complete, all-around knowledge of his material fascinating.

Master craftsman like Javier are to be treasured. He’s spent more than 50 years working with and surrounded by this mystical material, and he knows well its abilities and qualities.

On this trip my 18-year-old twin nephews Art and Theo Simondetti came to help document the story of the Bolivian jewelry collection, from Javier’s hidden workshop in the upper hills of the city near the coca market to the landscapes that are such an inspiration and such a part of the story of this gold.

The mine we worked with on this trip is called Yani and is more than 5,000 meters high. It was certified as Fairmined last year, which means certain strict rules must be upheld by the mine having to do with safe and fair paid labor. No children are allowed at the mine, and toxic chemicals like mercury and arsenic are reduced and contained so no leakages can damage the environment or communities around. This is very important. I have traveled to small informal gold mines in other parts of Latin America and in East Africa where young men drop down unstable holes hundreds of feet deep to dig for gold, and then wash the muck into the rivers and heat it in family kitchens. This causes serious health issues, and it also poisons the water and soil forever, as it is a poison that never goes away.

The city of La Paz rolls up and down steep mountains on narrow cobbled streets. Life up in the Andes is not easy. Passing an old woman and seeing her stock of three potatoes carefully arranged for sale on a colorful, hand-woven blanket on the side of a busy street forces you to stop and assess.

The markets are full of mouth-watering beautiful agricultural products and fierce market sellers.