Falling in Love at the Met
My Career at the Metropolitan Museum of Art and Beyond.
Early days of love and work. Sean and me. 1990s. He’s wearing one of my first fine silver woven chains. We are standing in a display he created for one of my craft shows in NYC.
From my diary June 16, 1992: He was a fantasy in my head for so long. An imagined image…Sean is forever
Me, Sean and our dog Dante in our Mulberry Street apartment, 1990s. Sean is wearing the 22-karat fold over flat-link chain that I made for him in Cecelia’s class using custom alloys of yellow, green and apricot gold. He still never takes it off!
Triple Cancerian, Child of the Moon
In 1990, I assumed the role of Senior Craftsman Jeweler for the Metropolitan Museum of Art’s then Reproduction Studio located in the museum basement. I found the advertisement on an index card pinned to The Fashion Institute of Technology’s (FIT’s) job board. It read, “Wanted: Goldsmith for Metropolitan Museum of Art.”
After two interviews I was hired by two smart and unconventional artist-women bosses. It was later divulged that they had done my astrological chart to ensure I’d fit in. Their intuition and tactics were spot-on because we, the Reproduction Studio, became a simpatico team of colleagues cut from the same cloth.
They did my astrological chart.
The enriching work environment (1990-1994) was second best only to my current position as an independent artist (est. 1994). Life at 1000 Fifth Avenue became a mind-blowing routine of learning, producing and being dunked into an art history class without ever coming up for air. Prior to the museum repro days, and after graduating FIT in jewelry design in 1982, I was mentored by master jeweler Cecilia Bauer in the late 80s. Her late night goldsmithing classes in Tribeca were periods of fusing patterns of granules, making Roman bezel rings, and practicing the chain weaving techniques brought to us by the Etruscans, Jean Stark, and now Cecelia. At the same time, while taking these intensive classes, I was working as a designer for a costume jewelry company by day and was also studying Italian literature. I had strong foundation in the world of Dante Studies at Hunter College and I was considering pursuing a degree in Italian. It was hard for me to imagine where my jewelry dream was headed.
The Fashion Institute of Technology. Site of the index card that changed my life.
Our Lust for Life
The Metropolitan Museum of Art Reproduction Studio was a secretive place, somehow unknown to other museum employees. We were located under Concerts and Lectures and the Egyptian wing. It was that staircase by the water fountain, through that door where you’d pick up your tickets to see a lecture. To the left was a ladies room that we nicknamed the Jackie O powder room. From there you’d take those dark steps down and find your way to our door. We were four to five goldsmiths and we were responsible for creating high-karat gold jewelry reproductions of original museum pieces. We sat facing each other which created an environment of Monty Python type antics. We’d listen to Serge Gainsbourg and Jane Birkin’s Je t'aime moi non plus and goof our way through the song with made up dramatics that would make us laugh to no end. We’d stare at small precious objects for the most part of the day. To exercise our eyes we were encouraged to go look at paintings. Our ceramicist and patineur friends who shared the loft-like space with us were around the bend. We could hear each other but couldn’t see each other until cappuccino breaks, lunch feasts, or storytelling. Our birthdays were celebrated with a locked door and surreptitious dance parties. There was music and the work tables became dance floors for our bump and grind.
Reproduction Studio, circa 1992, Some of the Players. That’s me center.
Whoever said a good work ethic meant not having fun should take a look at what we made. The Egyptian Flat link chain in 22-karat gold and emeralds, a gold and emerald Egyptian cocktail ring, an Etruscan necklace also handwrought with bezel set pear shaped garnets, some very fine Byzantine style bezel-set earrings with handwrought 22-karat gold dangling chains that held a row of cultured pearls, and so many other pieces that were reproduced by us using the same techniques used by the Etruscans, Greeks and Romans. The pieces were sold in the then Metropolitan Museum of Art Store that was a destination for collectors of fine jewelry.
The sculpture reproduction team was bar none the best of the day. We all benefited from any of their occasional tiny mistakes. When things were headed for the damage sale we’d get free sculptures. I along with my family members have the original solid William hippos, the baby hippos, the Ram, Joséphine Bonaparte, Venus, and so many more exquisitely crafted repros.
I’m sad to say that we weren’t exactly recognized back then as contributors to the art world. Reproductions, even finely crafted ones, even ones that were made right in the museum were underappreciated. Thinking back on those days I think we all felt a bit rebellious to the point where one day we took it upon ourselves to honor our illustrious leader, Director, Philippe de Montebello —who we truly idolized. We were required to attend regular lectures and listen to the great orator tell us about the latest museum acquisitions and upcoming exhibitions. Enamored, we created a shrine in our studio to honor him. I’d found a large color page from, I think, W Magazine (it was a huge page and he looked fabulously intimidating). Our master jeweler made a decorative frame for it. We surrounded it with flowers and Christmas lights. We hooked up the lights to a timer and speaker so that at cappuccino-break time the French National Anthem would play and the Christmas lights would go on.
This era was a joyful time for us. I’m still in touch with some of my old friends from those days and consider those moments the most precious.
The Princess jewelry became my bread and butter. I was able to reproduce these quickly and in turn was given the freelance work that paid my way to take a sabbatical in Italy.
Egyptian Flat-Link Chain in 22-Karat Gold and Emerald. Made by us, the Repro Studio for the museum’s store. You can see the original in the Egyptian Wing.
An Egyptian ring made of gold and emerald. I used to carry these emeralds around in a brown paper bag to deliver them to the museum.
1. I loved making these in the 90s for the Repro studio. They were called Pontic Earrings and we made them in 18-karat and 22-karat gold, emeralds, garnets and pearls. The original Greek influence Scytho-Samarian earrings are dated 3rd century BC.
2. We reproduced these delightful treasures of antiquity in solid 18-karat gold with blue sapphire cabochons and pearls.
3. In the Repro Studio (1990) we called this the Vatican Necklace or the Etruscan Necklace. A Vatican exhibition had come through the Met and we were tasked with making this necklace for reproduction. The original is a 2nd century AD jewel from Artena that was on loan from the Museo Gregoriano Etrusco in the Vatican.
Does anyone out there own any of these?
This Ram has been on display at my mom’s house since the 90s. Rejected by my buddies.
The Baby Hippos, rejected.
Three Williams made in 1991, rejected.
Joséphine Bonaparte, also rejected.
Thunderstruck
My repro studio friends were also very supportive of my love life. They were tired of my bad boyfriends and they knew that I was crushing on a guy that I passed on the staircase —the one that goes from the Asian Art north balcony to the service building. The stranger and I had locked eyes but we never spoke. When we saw each other in the hallways my heart would race. In March of 1992, in love at first sight, we both attended a very elaborate Employee Art Show. The reception was in the Temple of Dendur. There were two flowing bars and beautifully arranged tables with elegant buffets. I liked him so much but I wasn’t going to approach him first —despite my team’s pressing me to go say hi. He didn’t approach me either and he later disclosed that he thought I was spoken for. He stared at me throughout the entire party and was actually the only person sitting (and staring). In retrospect that might sound creepy but it wasn’t!
In late spring of 1992, my then boss found out that his name was Sean, that he was single and he worked in the PlexiShop. She suggested that I needed showcases (wink).
Sean specialized in creating the exhibition displays, vitrines, mounts and upholstery for every department. He later became the head of that department until his retirement in August of 2022.
The day of our first dinner date I modeled for a DD jewelry shoot.
That June, Sean and I courted, taking lunch breaks on the museum front steps and had picnics in Central Park. By July 1992 we were madly in love. I lived on Mulberry Street and remember making him a lasagna from scratch to seal the deal. That September of ‘92 I had a plan and stuck to it to take a sabbatical in Italy. That December Sean came to Italy to see me. We toured the boot together and ultimately I returned to NYC with him in January 1993. We moved in together and have been together since.
So, the Metropolitan Museum of Art nurtured my passion to become a better goldsmith. Its beauty and grandeur informed my craft. But the greatest blessing to come through their magical corridors was meeting my husband, Sean Younger Thomas.
Sean proposed to me on Valentine’s Day 1998 at midnight, outside of the Temple of Dendur in Central Park. The ring was made by my museum colleague Pamela Farland (who had a bench next to mine and instigated some of the jokes). The style of the ring is bezel set with diamond and ruby. A ring can be so symbolic and mine holds the energy of this whole story.
Our romantic art life continued to be enhanced by many museum exhibitions and the vivacious people, our friends who also poured themselves into design, preservation, and beauty. Our colleagues became our extended family members with whom we have experienced many Dolce Vita memories with. The museum remains our second home.
The two of us at the Frying Pan along the Hudson River, Sean in Rome, the two of us bike riding at Versailles.
Where Metal and Fire Meet Love
In 1994 I decided to step down from my role at The Met, recognizing that it was a part of the early development of the thirty-year-old brand known as Donna Distefano Ltd. In the early 90s while I was never quite able to express my full vision within their retail experience, I began to implement these concepts into my own brand with Off the Canvas and Renaissance in Love as two core themes.
Working with The Met in Later Years
In 2016 I circled back to the museum and created an “Off the Canvas” collection of 18-karat gold rings in rubies and sapphires inspired by Bronzino and van der Weyden. I introduced a Pope ring, a series of Keys, and an emerald jewelry collection inspired by the Crown of the Andes.
The Met Store x Donna Distefano official collaboration logo designed by Mathieu Jean. (Herons make up the Ds with curled wings, eye and pointed beak)
In 2018 these projects led to a Co-brand with The Met Store in celebration of Heavenly Bodies.
2018 My rosary Brother Sun Sister Moon with sun & moon that I made in the 90s
2018 The New York Times features me in Sunday Styles and The International Fashion and Luxury Edition
Making of a Renaissance Pope ring, 2017, Art imitating commerce.
Making the Renaissance Pope ring in the atelier
In 2019 I was glad to be somewhat instrumental 🥁 in getting Joe Perry’s Blade Runner guitar into the Met. To celebrate the occasion of Play It Loud: Instruments of Rock & Roll we made a sterling silver pin by hand.
2013 MMA Petrie Sculpture Court with JAR at his opening
Here we are in early 2020 at the opening reception of The Met’s British Galleries
November 2024 field trip to the Met to catch the Siena show
2025: Today
The date of this blog post is Valentine’s Day 2025 —27 years after Sean’s proposal to me in Central Park. I’m lucky to have him as my Valentine. We are doing our best to keep the hope going with a continued passion for the arts, music, museums, and a philosophy that includes truth, beauty, freedom and above all LOVE. Our dream is for people to appreciate and recognize the importance of the arts as much as we do. If that could happen we’d all live in a better world.