Wife, mother, activist. A member of the Pashtun tribe of Afghanistan. The Afghani Queen from 1919 to 1929, she shocked tribal leaders by taking off her veil and publicly announcing her personhood. The only wife of her beloved King, she accompanied him visiting troops in the war of independence against the British…. Read More →
To the Maasai of Kenya, long beaded earrings tell a woman’s story without her uttering a word. Blue beads symbolize God (for He inhabits the sky) and green the earth after a rainfall. Buttons on her earrings say she is mother to a circumcised son. The earrings themselves proclaim that she is a wife. Our story?… Read More →
In honor of the great Elhadji Koumama, Jeweler of the Desert, we created new pieces with elements his family has been forging for generations. The Tuareg only work in silver for it is considered the metal of the Prophet Mohammed. Thought to bring good luck, the Tuareg create their pieces through a method of lost wax… Read More →
The colors of Tibet are calling me. Red coral, blue turquoise. Why? I can’t say it’s physical, like a thirst. I’m not being dragged into Buddhist philosophy, which could likely cause my Greek grandmother to spit out her stuffed tomatoes and point her fork at me menacingly. It’s my search for the answer to “what defines… Read More →
Ghana, Africa: Used to be when the King of the Asante (or Ashanti) was dying, he and his wives would select one to die with him. Once chosen, all wives would don white and their gold jewels, dance, and drink heavily. The chosen wife was then strangled and buried along with him. Whoah.
I did my master’s thesis on the UN cultural boycott of South Africa, then under Apartheid. Never did I understand the propensity for humans to find another subordinate- and this especially fascinated me in terms of a political or social system with a significant history, such as the U.S. or South Africa. To think that Apartheid came apart… Read More →
Beauty is courage in the face of adversity. War is messy. Wait. More than messy. It’s indescribable. I remember listening to stories from my Yiayia (grandmother) and thinking to myself- man, my biggest angst in my life is that the popular girls call each other up on Thursdays to wear a skirt and why didn’t they… Read More →