February from the Hours of duc de Berry. Time to warm your naughty bits by the fire.
Today is Lupercalia, the Roman wolf fest which may be the root of contemporary Valentine’s Day. It’s worth bringing back to this old town I live in, a place the Romans called Eboracum. I try to picture those ancestors running through the streets naked, striking each other with thongs made from the hides of fresh sacrifices, hopping round the “Chocolate Story” museum and Betty’s Tea Room. It’s hard.
The Saxons called the month just gone the Wolf Month– as the grain stores emptied and the winter stocks thinned out, the hungry wolves came round to see just how well we’d been living, or so the myriad fairy tales begin. So here’s February, what the Anglo-Saxons called the Mud-Month. Slog through it to spring while those Roman wolves are still snuffing about in the crack in the door of our collective subconscious, or so one hopes. Whither Lupercalia? ”We keep the wolves out by living well…” writes Angela Carter in The Bloody Chamber.
Are we living well? There’s a blizzard blowing outside as I type this, coating everything white. No one is naked. No one is even outside. Snow prompts an apocalyptic freak-out here in this country that is totally in denial about winter, but that’s a subject for another post. And you know, February from the Duke of Berry’s hours is looking mighty familiar, what with the white on white. It’s kind of romantic. Look closely. (Clicking on the image expands it to full size). The braes (medieval underwear) hang on the wall, and the couple warm their best bits by the fire.
Whether you are donning your flayed goat hide or going commando by the fire, I wish you a blessed Mud-Month. And if you share my love of hearts, I have those aplenty in my Etsy shop.
Black Hearted Love Rosary Necklace, available in my Etsy Shop.
My recent designs have been inspired by organic lines and shapes, and the power behind certain materials that have come my way. Ritual enters into it, and the afterglow of superstition. And there’s the wild kitsune-fuel of Vali Myers who I fancy is overseeing the process.
I have written previously about the quartz stones which came to me in a large lot, earth still on them. I have cleaned them– both literally and ritually— and they have soaked up the full-moonlight of the Longest Night.
The other objects are ancient beads from, I believe, Mali. These stone beads defy dating, and are a contentious subject. It is certain they are not modern. Dirt from burial still clings to them, and they vary in material and size. My research has put some as neolithic, others 600-300 years old. One thing they have in common, they all look like hag stones.
Hag stones are naturally occurring stones with a hole– they are also called adder stones, druid’s eggs, Odin stones or sometimes holey stones. A traditional holey stone was originally thought to be made by water coursing through a stone to make the hole. Pliny claimed they were made from the saliva of a congress of snakes which I kind of wish were true. No doubt this is where the “adder stone” moniker comes from. It reveals the way language works in correspondence with the will– even if the drool of knotted snakes didn’t make them, surely the chthonic energies of earth and water did.
So when I say these old beads look like hag stones, I know they are not. A hag stone is naturally made, and these are stone beads are most definitely handmade. I am interested in these contradictions, and in simulating excavated talismans, perhaps from a fairy people of my own imagining. Vali whispers in my ear.
The Vali. Quartz crystal point and antique granite bead by Feral Strumpet
I love supporting other handmade businesses, especially if their products are guaranteed to make me feel totally glamorous– and The Tribal Temptress is one such small business. I’d like you to meet my friend Tania Hudson, the mastermind behind the beautiful bindis and headresses. While Tania makes adornments for dancers, many of her pieces, like her flower hair sticks and “hair bindis” can work with every day outfits. I wear mine every chance I get, and if I’m feeling blue, wearing one of Tania’s pieces always puts me in a good mood, even if I’m not performing. I asked her a few questions about how she started her business and what inspires her.
What inspired you to begin making adornments for tribal dancers?
I’m a total costuming geek! When I got into tribal belly dance, I wanted to make sure I looked the part but it was so difficult to find great costuming accessories at an affordable price, so I started to make my own. I started to make bindis, hair flowers, headdresses and larger costume items such as bellydance bras and belts. People started taking notice, liked what I’d made and it wasn’t such a big leap then to start making some accessories to sell at a local hafla. It just kinda grew from there.
What are your favourite materials?
Flowers are a big part of my designs, but I’m a total magpie too. I get ensnared by the sparkly stuff! I love vintage costume jewellery, especially old diamante which has an elegant lustre all of its own. I love Kuchi jewellery and costume adornments, strings of beads, African and Tibetan jewellery and crystals – oh how I love crystals! If I ever get chance, I’d love to visit the Swarovski factory and be surrounded by all that sparkliness!
You’ve said in the past that everything you make has an owner– and at your stall you always give dancers a lot of personal attention and styling advice. Do your customers and the dance community influence your work?
Very much so. I’ve made several pieces with certain dancers’ face shapes and hairstyles in mind, unbeknown to them of course, and then they’ve actually come along and bought them! It’s a bit uncanny really, but every piece really does have an owner. Sometimes several different people come along and try on the same headdress and it might look good on them all but somehow it just isn’t quite right, then all of a sudden the right person comes along and I know that that headdress is absolutely right for that person. It looks part of that person somehow, sounds bizarre I know, but it’s true! I won’t let anyone buy a headdress if it doesn’t suit them and always try to steer them to the most suitable headdress for their face shape. I want each dancer to wear my creations and feel like a star. When I’m doing a custom order for someone, I spend some time looking at their photos to get a feel for their dance personality and their face shape so that I can make them just the right headdress. It can be tricky when you’ve never met the person, but as far as I know, I’ve not got it wrong yet.
As a dancer yourself, what music and dance disciplines inform what you make?
I’m a Goth girl at heart, old skool Goth and gothic rock floats my boat but I have other quite eclectic tastes in music – I love world music, classical, folk, bollywood… everything except jazz!. As far as dancing is concerned, my first love is tribal fusion but I also love the ATS costume styling. The first bellydance performance I saw was a tribal fusion dancer dancing with Daughters of Gaia at the Goddess Conference in Glastonbury a few years ago. I have no idea who she was, but I was totally blown away by the style of dancing and the costuming. I came home, went on Youtube and discovered Rachel Brice, Zoe Jakes, Sharon Kihara, Mardi Love and a whole host of other fabulous dancers. That’s it, I was hooked. They’ve been my inspiration for dance and costuming ever since. And by the way, if you’re reading this blog and you’re that dancer in Glastonbury, it would be lovely to know who you are!
Are there any new materials or techniques you will be rolling out in the near future? What temptations can we look forward to?
I’m never too sure about revealing what’s likely to be coming up as I tend to change my mind like the weather! I might start to make a design I have in mind and then get sidetracked into a whole new design. I can say that I’m working on a couple of headdresses that will be very special indeed, using Victorian fabrics, Art Deco pieces and, ooo, anything else that takes my fancy. And there’ll be more decorated bras and belts coming along this year too. Hopefully I’ll also get time to make some costuming for myself – a rare treat!
Where can people find your work online?
I’m on Facebook, that’s where I sell most of my work. I’ve got an Etsy shop and a new website – it’s a bit of a work in progress at the moment but once I figure it out properly, it will be a place to showcase my work, especially my commissioned pieces.
On Wade’s Causeway, the Old Roman Road on the North Yorkshire Moors.
I don’t believe in New Years Resolutions, and the sentimental nonsense that seems to clutter the internet at the cusp of the new year, which is probably why I waited so long to post in 2013. It is a year that sounds most like 7os science fiction. We are living in the future.
On New Year’s Day I went walking on the North Yorkshire Moors, my favourite place to be. The track there is ancient, named for the giant Wade or Wadda (Woden!) who built the road for his wife Bel to drive her cattle. Depending on who you believe, the road leads to Whitby, (Don’t they all?) but I’ve never gotten that far. The old roman road is an easy hike, though the ground was wet and very flooded in places, the heather brown and scrabbled, waiting for summer– as am I.
This year the winter has been dire– wet and relentlessly grey. I never thought I would fall pray to S.A.D., but the evidence of yellow glass witch balls in my shop means it’s happened. I needed some sun!
New Witchballs, inspired by Yorkshire custom, in my Etsy shop.
There was sun on the moors on New Year’s Day, and a straight track– no need for map or compass. I’d like to say I thought about my goals for the shop and all that. The holiday season this year was truly overwhelming, and I do need to think about workload and business goals, but much of the real growth and direction comes from an intuitive place. Walking on the moors all kinds of information is coming at you, and you are processing it deep inside. I thought about the new materials that have come to me late in the year: a huge shipment of raw quartz crystals. I have been honing new skills for many months, forging wire to make rings, findings and crystal settings that would fit with my new designs. This process is more immediate, more primal and there is more of me in it.
Working with the quartz, one must be very mindful about what it wants to be, and respect that. Some want to be nothing more than what they are. All the stones required a lot of cleaning. I spent more time with them than any other material I’ve worked with, and during the cleaning process I had very vivid, happy dreams. There were new-found kittens in them, always a good sign.
Raw champagne quartz rosary necklace by Feral Strumpet on Etsy.
Through the Christmas rush I’ve had a kind of breakthrough. It has to do with new skills, new magic tricks. It all seems to be summed up in this humble ring– the “spiral promise”– because the wires seem to endlessly circle each other and because it reminds me of a simple love token. I made one of these for myself– which is how most of my designs begin. I thought, it’s so humble, what would it mean to anyone who regularly collects my designs? And yet I wore mine every day and came to love it. Little by little I have been introducing these new pieces that feel much more personal.
When I opened the shop I was recreating the vintage pieces I had to sell off, one by one, because I could not find work in Yorkshire. I still love the Victorian and early 20th century Bohemian influences and have kept those percolating through my design imagination, but then something else crept in, something I wasn’t expecting. This early 70s witchy woman muse showed up, with her hand forged boldness and her raw stones.
This is primal stuff– the first memories of adornment are of this crazy ankh necklace made of railroad nails which my mother wore. The thing looked dangerous and puzzling, a powerful piece! So I’m on a journey back to my roots.
I have always loved wire wrapped links, and as my designs have progressed they have formed the basis of almost all my pieces. Now I have explored using different metals, pickling them in various solutions, hammering and bending. The deliberation of a simple metal spiral reminds me of binding spells and of the Celtic and Viking adornment which is very much of the place where I live now, its ancient history.
Things are changing. There is more of me in this new work– more of my hand, my heart and will. I hope you will come with me on this journey.
Some places on this Earth resemble the setting of a Magic Realist novel. Visiting you are invited into their fictions. But where is the magic in the Bone Church of the Sedlec in Kutna Hora, Czech Republic? For over 700 years Sedlec has been a sacred place of burial. It’s crowded. Renovations over the centuries have disturbed the mass burials there. In the 16th century a half-blind monk was set the task of ordering the remains of over 40,000 dead– many from the Black Plague and Hussite wars. You can see it can’t you? The old fellow bent over the disordered mounds, labuoring myopically–the stuff of a Tarkovsky film or Monty Python sketch. I believe the four mounds of bones in each corner date from this time, but am uncertain. These structures are oddly reassuring, resembling bone ovens or wombs.
Centuries later the Swarzenberg family bought the property and hired the local woodcutter to continue this work of ordering the dead. This detail of the “local woodcutter” is repeated in texts about the bone house, but without elaboration. This “woodcutter” has taken on fairy tale proportions in my imagination. In my mind, he becomes the same woodcutter who slices out Grandmother from the sleeping wolf’s tummy in Perault’s version of Little Red Riding Hood. Performer of strange cesarians, interior decorator of tombs. He arranged the bones into fantastic garlands, monstrances and a giant chandelier as well as the Swarzenberg coat of arms . His signature in bones, “Rint 1870″ adorns a spare grey space on the wall.
Unlike other ossuaries I have visited, this one is more spectacular, but also lonely despite the throngs of tourists (happily absent when we visited) and the thousands of empty eye sockets staring out at you from various decorative arrangements. Other bone churches you sense a literal extension of the medieval belief that to be buried on Church grounds or in the church would make it easier for God to find you on Judgement Day. In the Ursuline chapel in Cologne or the Capuchin Ossuary in Rome, you sense the remains have become part of the church. Not merely decoration, they have come home. The are home. Not so in Sedlec.
The ossuary has supposedly inspired many modern serial killer fictions, and one can see why. In these stories its always one man making some perverse plans for the suffering or bodies of others. The ego of the woodcutter, and the Swarzenberg family give form to the chaos of death. The Sedlec ossuary is not a quiet grave. The dead here have been shuffled and reshuffled like sticklebricks and finally arranged in the 19th century in this sculptural fantasy that resembles obsessive outsider art.
Looking closely, one can see many of the skulls bear graffiti, which is the strangest gesture of all. The longer you stay in this cold, dizzying space, the more you understand the whole ashes to ashes thing. All are the same in death. Perhaps the writing of a name– on the skull of another long dead– is a way these impostors trick themselves into thinking they are the exception?
Mike and I found ourselves drunk on the darkness of the place, we giggled nervously like children who had been scolded. We indulged in taking photos. Why did I hate myself for taking them? It seemed all I could do in the space, having given myself up to the enormity of its morbid kitsch. I was surprised at how photogenic the structures were– they convey a kind of uber-wonder-cabinet feeling that is completely missing from the in-person experience.
Seeing the Jan Švankmajer short redeemed the space for me. The visual rhymes of the snail in its shell, the collections of buttons and even the paving stones, all reveal a tenderness that is missing from the space itself. I was not able to find a copy of the banned version of the film which contains the tour guide narrative. The jazz poem version, which is what replaced the original until the Velvet Revolution, is the only one available on youtube, though it is available in the Complete Short Films on DVD. An English translation of the song-text is available on youtube here. This local website has a poetic take on the history of the bone church. It’s worth reading: we, the “living scaffolds” behold in the bone house the “x-rays of eternity”.
To see other jewellery designs inspired by charnal houses, please visit my Etsy shop.
Sarah models the graduated, antique blue chevron bead necklace.
When making jewellery from vintage fragments, I often have to guess at a piece’s age and the fascinating history they have had before they found their way to me. Recently, I was lucky enough to acquire a small hoard of antique and ancient African beads from an estate sale of a someone who had traveled extensively through Africa, but the person selling them on behalf of the estate clearly thought they were junk. I bought them on a hunch, as you do, not really seeing the whole lot. But when I saw what a treasure they were, it prompted me to research them. I found this fascinating history of beads in timeline form.
Many in the lot are possibly ancient, rough stone wheels of jasper and quartz, with what seem to be bow-drilled holes, similar to those unearthed in Mali. But along with these came other glass beads, some very likely hundreds of years old. Some were tin beads resembling those made from melted-down cooking pots.
I made the necklace above from all the blue chevron beads that came in the hoard, graduated like traditional pearls. I have wired them, rosary style, so that the decorative layers, essential in dating the beads, are visible. These are perhaps the youngest beads from the lot, and date from the early 20th century. This style of bead was originally used by Dutch merchants in the late 15th century. Large quantities of the beads were used as ballast on trading ships, including those used in the slave trade. Sometimes African trade beads are called “slave beads” because of this. Manufactured in Venice until the 1950s, this style of bead is still highly prized by collectors.
Beads were manufactured Czechoslovakia, Murano and Venice for trade in Africa. This is an example of a trade bead card. Similar bead cards were produced by bead makers in Venice for European traders in palm oil, gold, ivory and slaves.
Chevron beads are part of African royal treasuries and are highly prized, buried with the dead.
As I researched these beads, I realized that while they were not part of the slave trade, being from the early 20th century, they still had a complex history I had not originally known. I had to consider what it meant to create with these fragments of a colonial history, and it was not without some ambivalence. Their beauty seduced me in the end, and I realized it was an honor to work with them, a humbling experience to realize they found their way to me, and I have perhaps saved them the dustbin.
My first live selling gig has been a huge success, thanks to the highly organized volunteers of the British Science Fiction Association convention, Olympus 2012. I saw many old friends and made countless new ones. What struck me about the event was how friendly the whole vibe was. Everyone could fly their freak flag proudly! I think I’ve never been around so many people who actually got my jokes. I laughed for three days, and did a did a bang up business, besides! My stock is seriously depleted. I need to get busy making things– especially because selling at Whitby Gothic Weekend is right around the corner.
Of all the pagan feast days, Imbolc is close to my heart. Spring is coming– and Brigid presides over the new sun, the quickening sap in the trees, the buds preparing to flower.
Brigid’s presence is felt all over this island, with many places being named after her. Brid(e) is Brigid; t is thought that her blessing was sought by brides. She is also the goddess of blackberries and swans, poets and blacksmiths– a perfect correspondence! I feel her over my shoulder as I work.
I have quoted Emily Dickinson’s poem 365 here before, but it is perfect here:
Dare you see a Soul at the White Heat?
Then crouch within the door –
Red — is the Fire’s common tint –
But when the vivid Ore
Has vanquished Flame’s conditions,
It quivers from the Forge
Without a color, but the light
Of unanointed Blaze.
Least Village has its Blacksmith
Whose Anvil’s even ring
Stands symbol for the finer Forge
That soundless tugs — within –
Refining these impatient Ores
With hammer, and with Blaze
Until the Designated Light
Repudiate the Forge –
To celebrate today, I’ve experimented with making some incense from dried herbs and flowers– basil, bay, camomile flowers, cinnamon, dill, nettle and rosemary. All ground up with my mortar and pestle and burned over a charcoal disc.
