Expect the Unexpected

Janet said she'd brought back malachite from Fez, and I said thanks. But as soon as I took one look I knew it was fossil.

I was equally sure about Willow's beautiful wood, formerly three-strand necklace.


Which is actually copal, sometimes called "copal amber." (This is why my team includes gemologists, appraisers, stone-cutters, and people who buy and sell stone. I was right about the "malachite," though. Fossil, sho'nuff.)

"Hang on. Did you just say amber?"

Copal.  Sometimes called "copal amber," but that's actually a misnomer.  Copal is not amber.

"But wait. Didn't Willow send you a bracelet and some loose beads? And didn't you have half a strand of some beads in that color family on hand, and some copal, too, from somewhere eons ago?"

Yup.



"Great. Looks like you've got enough of everything."

But no. That would be too easy. (And neither of us wanted to take apart that beautiful bracelet, if it could be avoided.)

So this project was more complicated than it seemed at first glance. Here are the main challenges:

1. It's multi-strand, which means, in this case, three different lengths, and the measurement of each one must be exact or the strands won't sit right on the neck.

2. The beads are graduated, which means you have to keep to the same proportions or the necklace won't be balanced. You can't just add a few beads here and there.

3. Light and dark hues of that beautiful yellow-brown alternate in the necklace, and that variation has to be respected or the color will look wrong. (You can go lighter or darker within the same color family, but you can't interrupt the color alternation.)

4. Copal is not easy to find in this shape and size. If you can find it, it can be veddy expensive.

Other than that, a piece of cake. (Or shortbread, which is what Willow's company, Heritage Shortbread, makes a particularly yummy version of back in South Carolina [we'd met at a trade show]. I mention this for you folks outside the Bay Area. Just gently pack the patient and send it along. Do call me first, though, so I know it's coming.)

So I was stumped once again. But I am too stubborn to quit. So I kept trying different options: wood beads, amber, copper, even buttons. Nothing worked.

But life always intervenes. And so it was that, after trying said bazillion different options, each of which had problems, and emailing Willow to say the patient was not responding but the doctor had not given up, on a very hot day (which we rarely get in San Francisco) when I was supposed to be somewhere else, I walked into one of my favorite shops and found lovely brass barrels that, with the dipped glass beads I had on hand from I still don't remember where (I think I've had them for years) solved the problem.


To be specific: I changed the 4-5-6 pattern at the top of the original necklace to 3-4-5 and built a new top for the necklace using a 1-2-3 pattern of dipped glass beads following the brass barrels, and everyone was happy ever after.

Big thanks to Susan and Haley.

©2010, 2014, 2015 Laynie Tzena.

Music for Josie

Here's a flower pin. Just beautiful. But too little for Josie.

Josie Weiss was a big person. Not tall, or wide, not in-your-face. Josie had presence. She was funny and feisty and had the kind of light in her voice some people have--a lilt, I guess--that always made you want to hear more.

She died a few years ago, and I miss her. Mostly, I miss her voice. I miss her spirit.

But appointments were, shall we say, fluid. Oh, Josie! One time they were working on my apartment and I was staying in a hotel. Josie was coming over to see the next stages of a project we were working on. She was later than usual.

In the hotel office they had a little coffee pot. I soon discovered that Josie was downstairs drinking that coffee and schmoozing with the
hotel staff.

She brought in the pin.

"Let me think about it," I said.

What to do? I knew it needed a frame, but to put more silver around it with that amber at the top would look funny; it would be unbalanced.

I drew a few things. Nothing worked.

"What have I gotten myself into?" I wondered--not for the first time.

I kept looking at the flower.

Suddenly, I realized that, inverted, it would look like a musical note. We put citrine at the top of the bezel to balance the amber (now at the bottom) and, as the English-speaking Canadians say, "Voy-la!" I designed the coordinating necklace with amber, Israeli silver, and hematite.



Her family tells me Josie wore that pendant and necklace all the time. Just about every time I saw her, she was wearing it--sometimes, with things I might not have worn it with. But Josie could pull it off.

©2009 Laynie Tzena.