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Once the signature of emperors and artisans, glyptic art finds new life in Cartier’s dedicated atelier

Text by Matteo Pini
Photography by Florent Tanet

At first glance, it looks like magic: the transformation of rugged stone into breathtaking scenes – a blooming flower in pearlescent purple agate, a graceful panther emerging from a citrine pendant, a delicate swan made from grey chalcedony with a banded agate beak. This is the art of glyptic, the process of carving precious stones, and a practice that the jewellery house Cartier has nurtured with its dedicated atelier for over a decade.

The word glyptic derives from the Greek root glyptikē, “to hollow out”, and although the word’s first known use can only be traced to the early 19th century, the practice is considerably older. Some of the earliest examples of human creativity were glyptic art: in China, jade was carved into decorative pendants called yupei, with some examples dating back some 7,000 years. In ancient Mesopotamia, around 3,500 BCE, religious scenes were carved into hardstone seals and rolled over soft materials like clay as a means of document authentication. Pinned to clothing or worn as rings, these cylinder seals were also said to have apotropaic properties, worn to ward off malevolent spirits. By the time of the Roman Empire, glyptic jewellery had become a status symbol for the patrician classes, who would seal important letters with signet rings carved with decorative emblems. Such was the power of the jewellery that Petronius, director of elegance under the reign of Emperor Nero, insisted that his ring be destroyed when he died, so no one could use his seal and claim his family name. But as the Roman Empire declined, glyptic art was usurped in popularity by the illuminated manuscripts and tapestries of early Christian art.

Stone carving was too foundational to the history of art to disappear completely. In the Middle Ages, the Mughal Empire was renowned for its remarkable temple architecture, and the Mesoamerican cultures produced jadeite pendants of extraordinary complexity. Still, in Europe, it would take over a thousand years for glyptic art to return to its prior stature, during the reign of antiquity-obsessed Emperor Napoleon Bonaparte of France. The dominant form had previously been intaglio jewellery – scenes engraved into stone – but in the Napoleonic era, cameo jewellery, where designs protruded from the stone, was now the more popular option. Too popular, perhaps: no longer only available to the wealthy, by the 19th century, the market became flooded with cheap replicas made from less desirable materials. Although they were so effective that archaeologists and historians still struggle to distinguish the expensive pieces from their budget counterparts, the prestige of the form had been diluted, and glyptic art once again returned to the realm of collectors and specialists.

It is only recently that glyptic art has returned to the cultural conversation, in part due to the efforts of Philippe Nicolas. One of the living experts on glyptic technique and history, Nicolas had been studying the art for over three decades and ran his own glyptic workshop before he was appointed as the first Maître d’art of Cartier’s glyptic atelier. This was a highly unusual arrangement in the world of haute joaillerie: not only was Cartier the only company with its own glyptic division, but Nicolas was granted an unprecedented level of autonomy and creative control over his workshop. Émilie Marques, who had been Nicolas’ apprentice for 15 years and took over as Maître d’Art after he retired in 2022, recounts her first meeting with him with great fondness. “I always remember the first time I arrived at his workshop – he had two shelves full of raw stones of every colour from around the world,” she says. “I started working with him, and in 2010, we joined the Maison Cartier.”

Given its rarity as an art form, there is no formal training process for becoming a glyptician. Marques trained as an engraver and a metal sculptor before transposing her skills onto stone. “We sculpt and engrave stones, but we also have a design studio, which means we source the stones, take inspiration from them, draw in the workshop, sketch, and research. The most important thing, I think, is having a foundation in drawing and volume.”

Although contemporary innovations like diamond-tipped tools and handheld drills have made aspects of the job easier, stone carving remains a precise and challenging art. Unlike metalwork, where material can be added and taken away, with stones, all incisions must be perfectly executed. Gems that appear opaque on the surface might reveal unique patterns and textures upon carving that the glyptician will have to work with. “The advantage is that stone is hard – you can’t make a sudden mistake – but there’s really no margin for error,” says Marques. The majority of techniques are essentially unchanged from antiquity: the controlled heating used to shape larger stones has its roots in practices introduced by the Indus Valley Civilisation over 5,000 years ago.

Today, every haute joallerie collection developed annually by Cartier includes several glyptic pieces. At the atelier, all pieces begin with the material, sparking the inspiration for the design rather than the other way around. Nicolas was an innovator, introducing petrified wood as a glyptic material: his Sépia necklace from 2010 sees a 300-million-year-old piece of oak transformed into a formidable panther, the grain of the wood mimicking the animal’s fur. Marques is continuing this legacy into the present: “A few years ago, I sculpted a petrified pinecone. We found it at a trade show. Inside, the structure looked like small seeds arranged in a rosette. I selected the most beautiful parts, and the jewellers composed the [Pinha] necklace with them.” Finished with range morganite, ruby, onyx and diamond, the piece brings out the wood’s beautiful marbling with exceptional tact. For their 2025 collection, the house presented the Panthères Aegis ring, two Janus-faced panthers in warm, contrasting shades flanking a stunning tourmaline gem. To achieve different finishes, polishing is an integral part of completing a glyptic piece. As Marques explains, “We’ve been experimenting with patinas instead of full polish, to give texture to details like animal skin or feathers, instead of a plastic-like shine.”

Although plenty of technical knowledge is required, glyptic goes beyond just know-how: it is a dialogue between artisan and material, the raw beauty of the stone, and the delicate touch required to bring out its intricate details. Thousands of years into its history, the endurance of glyptic art speaks to the poetry of human endeavour, the desire to coax grace from resistance. Yet for Marques, the essence of the craft is simple: “Ultimately, it’s about time, patience, precision, instinct and storytelling.” .