Support Nic Morton’s home & studio

“The Marathon Continues”

People always ask how I got into making jewelry. I usually say, “It’s a long story,” but I’ve got nothing but time now. I used to live a different kind of life. How different? That’s not important—this isn’t a Jay-Z album. What matters is, I got arrested.

When that happened, my father, a great man, told me he didn’t need or want the bail money back. Instead, he said something I’ll never forget: “All I need is for you to find something that makes you happy and that you can be proud of.”

So, I went back to school. Turns out, they offered metalsmithing. I figured, why not try it? When I was a kid, my mom took me and my brother to Ensenada, where we watched joyeros making and selling silver chains. That memory stuck with me.

By 2019, I was falling in love with something that finally felt real. Sure, it’s a good feeling to make something beautiful. But for me, the real high was seeing someone’s face light up when they saw my work. Nothing else compares.

But life has a way of testing you. As I was just starting to see the silhouette of a new life, COVID hit, and school shut down. Metalsmithing set me on a path of figuring out what I wanted to do, but the world felt like it might never reopen.

With no other choice, I poured everything I had left from my old life into building my new one. Less than a year into my obsession with metalwork, I was building my studio. I loved what I was doing and wasn’t about to give it up. I kept teaching myself techniques my school never would’ve taught me.

When things reopened, I went back to school—not because I needed it, but to see my teachers again and be around others. It only confirmed that I’d already found my direction. Some artists take a lifetime to discover their path, but I finally saw the shape of my vision, and I felt lucky.

For those who follow me, you know I’ve been remodeling my studio lately. Then, a few nights ago, a fire tore through our community, destroying almost everything. We lost beloved community members, my parents’ multi-generational home, and the studio that took me five years to build.

In these last few days, I’ve had time to come to terms with the loss. Many people plan to leave, but for me, this is bigger than losing a house—this is about home.

I feel selfish asking for help when so many here are hurting. But if you’re able to donate or share this, it would mean the world. My goal is to raise enough to help my mom and dad get back on their feet after the fire . To everyone who’s supported me, bought my art, or shared in this journey—thank you. If I got to make people smile, and make my parents proud of what I’ve created with my own hands, even once, I’m truly rich. And I’m deeply grateful.