She handed me a $20 bill for a $15 bracelet, 1/2 Persian red and silver weave.
Now that's normally not a problem, for I just give back a single $5 bill and we call it even. Right?
This particular day, as most particular days, I was selling my work at the Bastion Square Market. That's in Victoria, in case you're not familiar with it. And Victoria, that's in British Columbia. As in Canada.
And this $20 was green.
Well, even that's not saying much, since most $20 bills here are green. But this one was a darker green. As in US-currency-green. As in not-Canadian.
Now that's fine. I've got no problem with that. Most of us here in the frozen north accept US currency, and last year it was actually close to par. So she handed me $20 and I gave her back $5 with nary a twinge of guilt. No problem, right?
Well, let's just say that things went contrary to my expectations.
With a disgusted sneer on her face, she looked at this blue plasticy-paper thing in her hand and said, "What is this?" I could have put a worm in her hand and received about the same expression. Probably from both of them at the same time.
"That's your change", I said, with a calm coolness that was rapidly evaporating.
"But what is this?"
I carefully explained that the bracelet was only $15, and since she gave me $20, I owed her $5.
Again, she asked what it was, since it was clearly not a bill that looked familiar to her.
"Well," I said, as carefully as I would if I were explaining a difficult concept to a child, "we're in Canada. That is a Canadian five dollar bill. Your change."
"What am I supposed to do with this?"
I carefully edited my first response before I said anything, for I do try to be a gentleman.
"You can spend it like any other money", I tried.
"But I don't want this funny money. I want an American five."
"I'm sorry", I replied, trying to bolster up some sympathy in my voice, and likely failing, "but I don't have one. And besides, it's illegal for me to give change in anything besides Canadian currency."
"But I don't want this. I want a real five."
That was when I managed to smile again.
"All right, look", I offered. "Here. Let me show you something."
I handed her back her twenty, and took the bracelet and the five back in my own hand. And then I carefully outlined my idea to her.
"We are not in the United States. We are in Canada. This is another country, and your currency is not considered valid, legal tender here. I only accepted it out of courtesy. Now, if you want to buy this bracelet, please pay me $15 in real Canadian currency. I will not accept your funny money here. I will only take legal tender."
I'm not sure, but I don't think I have ever been so glad to lose a sale.
Well, except for maybe that lawyer guy. But that's another story.
Friday, April 17, 2015
Saturday, April 11, 2015
The Business of Business
When I wrote that story about the little girl and the scale butterfly yesterday, I had a number of comments, most of which were of the "you made me cry" variety, or something about how nice it was that I did that. One comment, though, really stood out for me. He said that it helped "all of us to be not just good business people, but better people."
That, of course, got me thinking about the implications of such a statement, nice as it was.
There are many strange beliefs about business, ethics, and people that I question on a regular basis.
Once we begin to raise these questions, we will find that our very attitude towards business begins to change.
To start, we need to look at materialism, and how its influence has pervaded our entire civilization. We often read in various spiritual and philosophical writings a condemnation of the materialistic attitude. But what is that attitude? Materialism means that we place an undue emphasis on material objects, and have a disinterest in spiritual, intellectual or cultural values.
A healthier attitude does not mean that we ignore the material side of existence, nor that we live an ascetic lifestyle. Instead, it means that we live a more balanced life, with our family and friends, people in general, as a higher priority than objects. It means understanding the very source of our happiness, discovering what makes us noble in character, and striving every day to become better and better people.
Once we understand what leads to our upliftment, as opposed to what abases us, then we can better see how every aspect of our life can be bent towards helping us achieve our goals in life. After all, nobody wants to be a worse person.
With business, we will no longer see it merely as a means of acquiring a little bit of money, but instead value it for the opportunities it offers us to interact with others.
Yes, we have to eat. I won't deny that. Paying the rent is a good thing, too. But are those the overall objectives of our life here on Earth? Are truly here merely to get a few more pieces of dust to clutter up the bookshelves of our lives? How many people have you ever heard, on their deathbed, wishing they had spent just a little more time in the office?
It sounds absurd to put it that way, but this is how many of us live our life.
Many years ago I made the very conscious decision to not do that.
When it came to choosing between advancing my career or spending five years as a stay-at-home dad to help raise my son, the choice was clear. I stayed at home. Well, rather I went out with him, picking a different virtue each week on which to focus. We would go to the conservatory and talk about how we could show this virtue to plants, or how they showed it to us. We explored those same questions at the zoo with the animals, and at the children's museum with kids. For the first five years of his life, this is what we did together.
I made almost no chain-mail during that time.
Do I regret it? Are you kidding me? I would do it all again in a heartbeat.
My wife and I made the mutual decision to cut out all those things that sucked up our money, such as cable tv and a cell phone, and live off her salary, which was far higher than mine. All our lives are far richer because of that decision.
At my booth in the summer, where I sell my work and make most of my money for the year, I have an unusual policy. If someone comes up to my table and obviously feels like they have to buy something to be a good person, that purchasing some material item somehow validates their existence, I will talk them out of buying anything. Instead, I spend time with them, asking questions and truly listening to their answers. I get to know them, praise them and encourage them. And if someone else comes up needing assistance, I ask them to wait while I finish with this very important person. And then I try to give the new person the same degree of attention, just to make sure they don't feel hurt.
People come first.
Over the years I have lost many sales because of this attitude, but I have gained something far more valuable: friends. And these friends have also, incidentally, become my greatest client base. They have demonstrated true "customer loyalty", returning year after year, bringing their friends with them.
True wealth lies not in what you own, but in who you are.
In the end, if you want to be a better business person, then you have to become a better person first.
That, of course, got me thinking about the implications of such a statement, nice as it was.
There are many strange beliefs about business, ethics, and people that I question on a regular basis.
- Why do we accept that the desire for greater and greater profit should be the fundamental operating principle of business?
- Why have so many people placed economic activity at the very centre of human existence?
- Why do we presume success is synonymous with economic wealth?
- But most of all, where do we come off defining a human being as a consumer of goods and services?
Once we begin to raise these questions, we will find that our very attitude towards business begins to change.
To start, we need to look at materialism, and how its influence has pervaded our entire civilization. We often read in various spiritual and philosophical writings a condemnation of the materialistic attitude. But what is that attitude? Materialism means that we place an undue emphasis on material objects, and have a disinterest in spiritual, intellectual or cultural values.
A healthier attitude does not mean that we ignore the material side of existence, nor that we live an ascetic lifestyle. Instead, it means that we live a more balanced life, with our family and friends, people in general, as a higher priority than objects. It means understanding the very source of our happiness, discovering what makes us noble in character, and striving every day to become better and better people.
Once we understand what leads to our upliftment, as opposed to what abases us, then we can better see how every aspect of our life can be bent towards helping us achieve our goals in life. After all, nobody wants to be a worse person.
With business, we will no longer see it merely as a means of acquiring a little bit of money, but instead value it for the opportunities it offers us to interact with others.
Yes, we have to eat. I won't deny that. Paying the rent is a good thing, too. But are those the overall objectives of our life here on Earth? Are truly here merely to get a few more pieces of dust to clutter up the bookshelves of our lives? How many people have you ever heard, on their deathbed, wishing they had spent just a little more time in the office?
It sounds absurd to put it that way, but this is how many of us live our life.
Many years ago I made the very conscious decision to not do that.
When it came to choosing between advancing my career or spending five years as a stay-at-home dad to help raise my son, the choice was clear. I stayed at home. Well, rather I went out with him, picking a different virtue each week on which to focus. We would go to the conservatory and talk about how we could show this virtue to plants, or how they showed it to us. We explored those same questions at the zoo with the animals, and at the children's museum with kids. For the first five years of his life, this is what we did together.
I made almost no chain-mail during that time.
Do I regret it? Are you kidding me? I would do it all again in a heartbeat.
My wife and I made the mutual decision to cut out all those things that sucked up our money, such as cable tv and a cell phone, and live off her salary, which was far higher than mine. All our lives are far richer because of that decision.
At my booth in the summer, where I sell my work and make most of my money for the year, I have an unusual policy. If someone comes up to my table and obviously feels like they have to buy something to be a good person, that purchasing some material item somehow validates their existence, I will talk them out of buying anything. Instead, I spend time with them, asking questions and truly listening to their answers. I get to know them, praise them and encourage them. And if someone else comes up needing assistance, I ask them to wait while I finish with this very important person. And then I try to give the new person the same degree of attention, just to make sure they don't feel hurt.
People come first.
Over the years I have lost many sales because of this attitude, but I have gained something far more valuable: friends. And these friends have also, incidentally, become my greatest client base. They have demonstrated true "customer loyalty", returning year after year, bringing their friends with them.
True wealth lies not in what you own, but in who you are.
In the end, if you want to be a better business person, then you have to become a better person first.
Friday, April 10, 2015
A Love of Butterflies
All right, all right. I know it's been like years since I've posted. My wife has been getting on my case about it, but truthfully I've been too busy making things to take the time to write.
So today (which first came out as "toady" given my lack of ability, or "abailaitiy", to control where my fingers are going on this keyboard) I'm going to tell a story.
Are you comfortable? Do you have a nice hot drink by your side? Are you snuggled up with your teddy bear, or what have you?
Good.
Once upon a time, sometime in the middle of last year, probably around August, I was sitting at my booth in Bastion Square, Victoria, BC, Canada (drop by for a visit if you're in the neighbourhood). Now this booth is down towards the water-end of the square, and I have a glorious view of the harbour all summer long. Between me and the water, though, is a wide set of concrete stairs going down to Wharf Street, cross the street and there's the last building on the row, a tall staircase going to a parking lot and, basically, the water with the hills in the background.
So there I am on this gorgeous sunny summer day staring out at the water as I am wont to do when this little girl comes bounding up the stairs. She sees the "pretties" at my booth and begins running towards me as her mother and sister come following up the stairs behind her. She begins looking at all my wares, eyes wide in amazement (I love the unspoken compliments like that), and promptly says "I want that", pointing to a butterfly pendant, just as her mom is within earshot.
I see her mom heave a sigh, so I say to the little girl, "Well, I'd love to sell you this, but I have a very important rule at my booth."
She looks at me, as if to ask what that rule might be, just as her mom and sister arrive.
"I'm not allowed to sell anything until you have looked at all the booths in the market."
Her mother stared at me with something between disbelief and confusion.
"So", I continue, "have you been all through the market, all the way to my friend Robert at the very end and back again?"
"Nooooo", she says, fascinated by this new rule, which I have just made up on the spot.
"Well," I say, carefully stalling while my mind catches up to me, "when I was your age, there was something I really, really wanted. I had saved my money all summer for it, but hadn't found it yet. And one day, I went to a market just like this and I saw something that I thought was a little bit interesting, so I bought it. And wouldn't you know, not even 10 minutes later I saw the thing that I was really saving for just a bit further up. And by then it was too late. I had already spent my money and couldn't afford it. So, I have this rule. You have to look at everything in the market before you can buy anything from me. After that, I'll be very happy to sell you whatever you want."
Her mother was astonished. Here I was turning down an obvious sale for some strange reason. She was grateful, but didn't really know what to make of it.
Anyways, they looked a bit longer, thanked me for my time, and went on their merry way.
At that point one of my neighbours, who had heard all of this, came up to me laughing, saying she couldn't believe I had done that.
"Yeah, but did you see how grateful the mother was? Besides, it was only five dollars. That was well worth it."
The day continued, and a few hours later we had a bit of a lull, so my neighbour came over to chat again.
"So, did that little girl come back to get her butterfly?"
And just as she asked, who should come by but that same little girl.
This time there was no sense of a rushed frenzy of needing to spend the money burning a hole in her pocket. She was calm, collected, and very courteous.
"Excuse me," she began. "I went through the whole market, and even saw your friend Robert. I really like his books. The leprechaun one was my favorite. Anyways, I saw everything and I decided I would like to buy one of these butterflies, please."
How could my heart not melt at such sweetness?
As she was saying this, her family came up behind her with looks of amazement at her change of behaviour.
"That's wonderful", I said with as much sincerity as I could possibly give. "Which one would you like?" I waved my hand at the variety of butterflies there on the table.
She carefully looked them over before declaring, "I would like this one, please", carefully pointing to a blue and pink one, "because it's the closest you have to purple."
"Ok. Now, I'm a little short of butterflies today", I explained, "so I have a special deal going on." I just love the way my mouth says these things before I realize that they're true. "They're normally $5, but if you help me make one, then they're only $4." I had noticed that she had 2 toonies and a loonie in her hand. Don't you just love the names for Canadian currency?
"Ok", she said.
I brought out my box of supplies and asked her, "Which colours would you like? You need to pick out 2 big scales, and 4 small ones."
"Oooohhhh! You have purple!" I hadn't thought her eyes could get any wider, but boy was I wrong.
We laid out all the materials on my board, and I connected the first couple of pieces with her carefully watching.
"Is this a butterfly?" I held up the two scales dangling limply from a single link.
"No."
I added a bit more.
"How about now?" They were still dangling, but there were just more pieces dangling now.
"No."
"Well, we need to add another piece here. Can you hand me the large link, please?"
So she did.
"Doesn't this look just like a butterfly", I asked, holding up a wadded mess of links and scales.
"Noooooo", she said, trying not to laugh.
"Well, maybe if I just add this link here", I remarked, arranging the pieces carefully in one palm, hiding it from her view. And I added the last link, which sort of snaps the whole thing into place, and flicked it up in the air. It spun around and landed right in front of her, a perfectly formed purple and pink butterfly.
If I had thought her eyes were wide earlier, I was sorely mistaken.
With a burst of seven-year old excited energy, she dropped the toonies on the table, grabbed her little treasure and ran off shouting, "Daddy! Daddy! Look at what I got. A purple butterfly."
My neighbour, who was still watching, had tears in her eyes. Neither of us said anything as we watched the little girl bounce out of sight.
But what really made my day was about two minutes later when her mother came back.
"You know", she said, "she would have been happy getting just the blue one. But you just gave her a memory that will last her whole life. Thank you."
And that, dear reader, is what makes this all worth it.
So today (which first came out as "toady" given my lack of ability, or "abailaitiy", to control where my fingers are going on this keyboard) I'm going to tell a story.
Are you comfortable? Do you have a nice hot drink by your side? Are you snuggled up with your teddy bear, or what have you?
Good.
Once upon a time, sometime in the middle of last year, probably around August, I was sitting at my booth in Bastion Square, Victoria, BC, Canada (drop by for a visit if you're in the neighbourhood). Now this booth is down towards the water-end of the square, and I have a glorious view of the harbour all summer long. Between me and the water, though, is a wide set of concrete stairs going down to Wharf Street, cross the street and there's the last building on the row, a tall staircase going to a parking lot and, basically, the water with the hills in the background.
So there I am on this gorgeous sunny summer day staring out at the water as I am wont to do when this little girl comes bounding up the stairs. She sees the "pretties" at my booth and begins running towards me as her mother and sister come following up the stairs behind her. She begins looking at all my wares, eyes wide in amazement (I love the unspoken compliments like that), and promptly says "I want that", pointing to a butterfly pendant, just as her mom is within earshot.
I see her mom heave a sigh, so I say to the little girl, "Well, I'd love to sell you this, but I have a very important rule at my booth."
She looks at me, as if to ask what that rule might be, just as her mom and sister arrive.
"I'm not allowed to sell anything until you have looked at all the booths in the market."
Her mother stared at me with something between disbelief and confusion.
"So", I continue, "have you been all through the market, all the way to my friend Robert at the very end and back again?"
"Nooooo", she says, fascinated by this new rule, which I have just made up on the spot.
"Well," I say, carefully stalling while my mind catches up to me, "when I was your age, there was something I really, really wanted. I had saved my money all summer for it, but hadn't found it yet. And one day, I went to a market just like this and I saw something that I thought was a little bit interesting, so I bought it. And wouldn't you know, not even 10 minutes later I saw the thing that I was really saving for just a bit further up. And by then it was too late. I had already spent my money and couldn't afford it. So, I have this rule. You have to look at everything in the market before you can buy anything from me. After that, I'll be very happy to sell you whatever you want."
Her mother was astonished. Here I was turning down an obvious sale for some strange reason. She was grateful, but didn't really know what to make of it.
Anyways, they looked a bit longer, thanked me for my time, and went on their merry way.
At that point one of my neighbours, who had heard all of this, came up to me laughing, saying she couldn't believe I had done that.
"Yeah, but did you see how grateful the mother was? Besides, it was only five dollars. That was well worth it."
The day continued, and a few hours later we had a bit of a lull, so my neighbour came over to chat again.
"So, did that little girl come back to get her butterfly?"
And just as she asked, who should come by but that same little girl.
This time there was no sense of a rushed frenzy of needing to spend the money burning a hole in her pocket. She was calm, collected, and very courteous.
"Excuse me," she began. "I went through the whole market, and even saw your friend Robert. I really like his books. The leprechaun one was my favorite. Anyways, I saw everything and I decided I would like to buy one of these butterflies, please."
How could my heart not melt at such sweetness?
As she was saying this, her family came up behind her with looks of amazement at her change of behaviour.
"That's wonderful", I said with as much sincerity as I could possibly give. "Which one would you like?" I waved my hand at the variety of butterflies there on the table.
She carefully looked them over before declaring, "I would like this one, please", carefully pointing to a blue and pink one, "because it's the closest you have to purple."
"Ok. Now, I'm a little short of butterflies today", I explained, "so I have a special deal going on." I just love the way my mouth says these things before I realize that they're true. "They're normally $5, but if you help me make one, then they're only $4." I had noticed that she had 2 toonies and a loonie in her hand. Don't you just love the names for Canadian currency?
"Ok", she said.
I brought out my box of supplies and asked her, "Which colours would you like? You need to pick out 2 big scales, and 4 small ones."
"Oooohhhh! You have purple!" I hadn't thought her eyes could get any wider, but boy was I wrong.
We laid out all the materials on my board, and I connected the first couple of pieces with her carefully watching.
"Is this a butterfly?" I held up the two scales dangling limply from a single link.
"No."
I added a bit more.
"How about now?" They were still dangling, but there were just more pieces dangling now.
"No."
"Well, we need to add another piece here. Can you hand me the large link, please?"
So she did.
"Doesn't this look just like a butterfly", I asked, holding up a wadded mess of links and scales.
"Noooooo", she said, trying not to laugh.
"Well, maybe if I just add this link here", I remarked, arranging the pieces carefully in one palm, hiding it from her view. And I added the last link, which sort of snaps the whole thing into place, and flicked it up in the air. It spun around and landed right in front of her, a perfectly formed purple and pink butterfly.
If I had thought her eyes were wide earlier, I was sorely mistaken.
With a burst of seven-year old excited energy, she dropped the toonies on the table, grabbed her little treasure and ran off shouting, "Daddy! Daddy! Look at what I got. A purple butterfly."
My neighbour, who was still watching, had tears in her eyes. Neither of us said anything as we watched the little girl bounce out of sight.
But what really made my day was about two minutes later when her mother came back.
"You know", she said, "she would have been happy getting just the blue one. But you just gave her a memory that will last her whole life. Thank you."
And that, dear reader, is what makes this all worth it.
Saturday, August 4, 2012
Why chain-mail?
This is probably one of the questions I get asked most often: Why do you make chain-mail?
Truthfully? I have no idea.
I mean, I started making it because I happened to be working at a Rennaisance Faire in Wisconsin and met someone who wanted to teach me.When I first learned, I thought it was the most boring thing I had ever done. There were only those few basic weaves that people were doing, and everything was centered around various armour techniques that were hundreds of years old. It seemed that almost nobody was looking at new applications for this wonderful medium, aside from the woman who taught me, and a few higher end fashion designers.
Me? I was insatiably curious about this medium, and wanted to see how far I could push it. If there was a bit of extra space between the links, I wanted to see what would happen if I tossed another ring in there.
I had seen some work from the Islamic world using different colours, in which verses of the Qur'an were written in calligraphy in bronze on a steel background along the edge of some shirts. That was pretty neat. I've since tried my hand at doing similar work, which some call "inlay", although I have no idea why, as you are not laying the rings into anything. You are just using two colours of metal to create a pixelated pattern. (What should this be called? I'm still trying to figure it out. I know there is a term for it in tiling, or in other art forms, but I just haven't been able to figure it out.)
But there I was, learning how to explore a new medium for me, and deciding to see what I could do.
One of my favorite things was to go through knitting books and see how I could duplicate various stitching patterns in chain. That was the source of many new weaves for me.
Now I do it because I feel like I'm still exploring. It seems that I have done so much with the medium,and yet I've barely scratched the surface.
Most of the work that I do is still in terms of jewelry, for I've never thought of myself as an armourer. Fashion designs sort of came out of the jewelry work. And the art pieces were a natural extension of that exploration. But armour? I've always seen that as the bulk drudge work that I don't like doing. Besides there are so many others who do it so much better than I do.
Me? I love to doodle in chain, seeing how I can connect the links in new ways, and most of those doodles end up becoming bracelets.
Note: I don't think of the different sizes as different weaves. The weave is the manner in which the links interconnect. The aspect ration merely determines the density of that particular weave. While I normally think of the 1/2 Persian 4 as a dense weave, it is actually quite open when done with the links I use for the Mobius Balls. In fact, I've done a 1/2 Persian 12, in which the links go up through 6 and down through 6. Cool? Not really. It looked kind of weird, was a bit of fun, but impractical for me. I just wanted to see if it would work. Now I know.
Anyways, why chain-mail? Because I feel as if I can do just as much with chain as I can with a pencil or paints. The medium is immaterial. It is the creativity and the exploration behind it that counts.
Truthfully? I have no idea.
I mean, I started making it because I happened to be working at a Rennaisance Faire in Wisconsin and met someone who wanted to teach me.When I first learned, I thought it was the most boring thing I had ever done. There were only those few basic weaves that people were doing, and everything was centered around various armour techniques that were hundreds of years old. It seemed that almost nobody was looking at new applications for this wonderful medium, aside from the woman who taught me, and a few higher end fashion designers.
Me? I was insatiably curious about this medium, and wanted to see how far I could push it. If there was a bit of extra space between the links, I wanted to see what would happen if I tossed another ring in there.
I had seen some work from the Islamic world using different colours, in which verses of the Qur'an were written in calligraphy in bronze on a steel background along the edge of some shirts. That was pretty neat. I've since tried my hand at doing similar work, which some call "inlay", although I have no idea why, as you are not laying the rings into anything. You are just using two colours of metal to create a pixelated pattern. (What should this be called? I'm still trying to figure it out. I know there is a term for it in tiling, or in other art forms, but I just haven't been able to figure it out.)
But there I was, learning how to explore a new medium for me, and deciding to see what I could do.
One of my favorite things was to go through knitting books and see how I could duplicate various stitching patterns in chain. That was the source of many new weaves for me.
Now I do it because I feel like I'm still exploring. It seems that I have done so much with the medium,and yet I've barely scratched the surface.
Most of the work that I do is still in terms of jewelry, for I've never thought of myself as an armourer. Fashion designs sort of came out of the jewelry work. And the art pieces were a natural extension of that exploration. But armour? I've always seen that as the bulk drudge work that I don't like doing. Besides there are so many others who do it so much better than I do.
Me? I love to doodle in chain, seeing how I can connect the links in new ways, and most of those doodles end up becoming bracelets.
Note: I don't think of the different sizes as different weaves. The weave is the manner in which the links interconnect. The aspect ration merely determines the density of that particular weave. While I normally think of the 1/2 Persian 4 as a dense weave, it is actually quite open when done with the links I use for the Mobius Balls. In fact, I've done a 1/2 Persian 12, in which the links go up through 6 and down through 6. Cool? Not really. It looked kind of weird, was a bit of fun, but impractical for me. I just wanted to see if it would work. Now I know.
Anyways, why chain-mail? Because I feel as if I can do just as much with chain as I can with a pencil or paints. The medium is immaterial. It is the creativity and the exploration behind it that counts.
Monday, July 23, 2012
The Mobius Ball
This little thing has been annoying, frustrating, fascinating and haunting me for years. (Hey, those were almost in alphabetical order.)
The Mobius Ball is one of those weird little chain-mail things that just sort of came out of a frustrating moment for me. I was working in some small links, probably 18 gauge 1/4 inch or something like that (if I was near my studio right now I could probably look around tell you, but I'm not and it really doesn't matter anyways so I'll just continue on with the story), and making an Oriental 6:1 bracelet. the flat links for this particular bracelet required doubling up, at least, and tripling them up looked far better.
So I did.
But I didn't want to just triple them up because I thought that would look a bit boring, so I interlinked them instead. One brass. One copper. One nickel. I started making these little florets and setting them aside to put into that bracelet.
And I kept on making them.
And making them.
On and on.
And on.
And it got phenomenally boring and tedious and repetitive and redundant (like this passage).
At one point I got so frustrated just sitting there making these stupid little florets that I decided to see just how many I could cram into there. Then, like all good periods following a moment of frustration, I sat back and looked at what I had just done.
(And I just realized that I don't have a photo of one on my computer, so check back later today or tomorrow and I'll replace this paragraph with a photo of one) (An original one, complete with the packaging and all) (And maybe, if you're good, I'll post the text of the card that comes with it)
It looked kind of cool, spirally goodness and all. After another ten minutes or so, I realized that I had been fidgeting with it the whole time. I managed to put it down and finish that bracelet, but afterwards that annoying little ball of metal found its way back into my hands.
This was on a Wednesday.
That weekend I went to my shop at the Bristol Renaissance Faire and showed Connie.
She sort of shrugged when she saw it and said "It's kind of neat, but can you make it bigger?"
"No", was my naive reply, "that's all the links that will fit in there."
She looked at me like I was a complete idiot, which I guess I was at that moment, and said, "Try using bigger links."
My jaw must have fallen open as I stood there dumbfounded that I hadn't thought of such an obvious answer myself.
Needless to say, it was a hit.
I gave one to a friend of mine who was blind, and a week later he was still playing with it. I recently received an e-mail from another friend who got hers at that time, nearly 20 years ago (yes, Denise, it's been that long), and she said she still plays with it. (Actually, I think I gave her two.)
I spent many weekends that season making Mobius Balls, which just seemed to me to be the obvious thing to call it. And when I wasn't making Mobius Balls, I was showing people the Mobius strip and explaining why I came up with that name. It was a very fun weekend as I showed hundreds of people the joy of drawing that line on a Mobius strip and how it goes all around to the other side, and then back again to join itself. Then cutting along the line was even more fun as people saw what happened.
The real thrill, though, was when I had them draw the line 1/3 of the way across, instead of in the middle, and then cut on that line. I had more than a few people scream in amazement.
But back to the Mobius Ball.
We realized that we were onto something there, and within a couple of days of creating it began the process of patenting it, as well as trademarking the name. (Yes, it really is trademarked.)
A short time after that, we did the packaging, and the rest is history.
A couple of short asides about the Mobius Ball:
1. It was an utter business failure. Although we sold a lot of them, it didn't come close to paying its own costs. This is probably due to my poor acumen as a businessman, and the use of distributors who weren't really hot on it. One point against me there.
2. When one of the lawyers went to get it patented, it was turned down at first. The office said that there wasn't anything original about it, as it was too close to the Swedish wedding rings. My lawyer flew in to Washington, DC, for the appeal, walked in the office and merely handed it to the guy for the meeting, instead of shaking his hand. The appeal person found himself holding it, moved it as one is wont to do, and said, quite simply, that we got the patent. One point for me, yay.
3. When I got on the bus to meet with the graphics designers about the design and text for the card, I realized that I had completely forgotten to write any text for the interior. (Another point against me.) As I had about 10 minutes before my stop, I quickly scribbled down what came to mind. It wasn't quite enough text, so I put in the warning label. Everyone in the meeting loved it so much that they didn't change a word (to my shock). Oh, but we were still just a bit shy on the word count, so one of the graphic designers added in another line on the warning label: If splashed in eyes, rinse immediately with warm water. (One point for her.)
And what, you may ask, happened to that first one? My friend Kirin has it.
* * * * *
Ok. Here are the photos that I promised up above. And I also figured why bother trying to hide my disorganization. You might as well enjoy it.
And the text? It says, in both English and French, "The mobius ball is based upon a mathematical concept expressing infinity in a finite space. Whether used as a focus for meditation or as a diversion from daily drudgeries, the mobius ball provides intellectual stimulation with a fascinating and soothing tactile sensation."
The warning label then reads:
The Mobius Ball is one of those weird little chain-mail things that just sort of came out of a frustrating moment for me. I was working in some small links, probably 18 gauge 1/4 inch or something like that (if I was near my studio right now I could probably look around tell you, but I'm not and it really doesn't matter anyways so I'll just continue on with the story), and making an Oriental 6:1 bracelet. the flat links for this particular bracelet required doubling up, at least, and tripling them up looked far better.
So I did.
But I didn't want to just triple them up because I thought that would look a bit boring, so I interlinked them instead. One brass. One copper. One nickel. I started making these little florets and setting them aside to put into that bracelet.
And I kept on making them.
And making them.
On and on.
And on.
And it got phenomenally boring and tedious and repetitive and redundant (like this passage).
At one point I got so frustrated just sitting there making these stupid little florets that I decided to see just how many I could cram into there. Then, like all good periods following a moment of frustration, I sat back and looked at what I had just done.
(And I just realized that I don't have a photo of one on my computer, so check back later today or tomorrow and I'll replace this paragraph with a photo of one) (An original one, complete with the packaging and all) (And maybe, if you're good, I'll post the text of the card that comes with it)
It looked kind of cool, spirally goodness and all. After another ten minutes or so, I realized that I had been fidgeting with it the whole time. I managed to put it down and finish that bracelet, but afterwards that annoying little ball of metal found its way back into my hands.
This was on a Wednesday.
That weekend I went to my shop at the Bristol Renaissance Faire and showed Connie.
She sort of shrugged when she saw it and said "It's kind of neat, but can you make it bigger?"
"No", was my naive reply, "that's all the links that will fit in there."
She looked at me like I was a complete idiot, which I guess I was at that moment, and said, "Try using bigger links."
My jaw must have fallen open as I stood there dumbfounded that I hadn't thought of such an obvious answer myself.
Needless to say, it was a hit.
I gave one to a friend of mine who was blind, and a week later he was still playing with it. I recently received an e-mail from another friend who got hers at that time, nearly 20 years ago (yes, Denise, it's been that long), and she said she still plays with it. (Actually, I think I gave her two.)
I spent many weekends that season making Mobius Balls, which just seemed to me to be the obvious thing to call it. And when I wasn't making Mobius Balls, I was showing people the Mobius strip and explaining why I came up with that name. It was a very fun weekend as I showed hundreds of people the joy of drawing that line on a Mobius strip and how it goes all around to the other side, and then back again to join itself. Then cutting along the line was even more fun as people saw what happened.
The real thrill, though, was when I had them draw the line 1/3 of the way across, instead of in the middle, and then cut on that line. I had more than a few people scream in amazement.
But back to the Mobius Ball.
We realized that we were onto something there, and within a couple of days of creating it began the process of patenting it, as well as trademarking the name. (Yes, it really is trademarked.)
A short time after that, we did the packaging, and the rest is history.
A couple of short asides about the Mobius Ball:
1. It was an utter business failure. Although we sold a lot of them, it didn't come close to paying its own costs. This is probably due to my poor acumen as a businessman, and the use of distributors who weren't really hot on it. One point against me there.
2. When one of the lawyers went to get it patented, it was turned down at first. The office said that there wasn't anything original about it, as it was too close to the Swedish wedding rings. My lawyer flew in to Washington, DC, for the appeal, walked in the office and merely handed it to the guy for the meeting, instead of shaking his hand. The appeal person found himself holding it, moved it as one is wont to do, and said, quite simply, that we got the patent. One point for me, yay.
3. When I got on the bus to meet with the graphics designers about the design and text for the card, I realized that I had completely forgotten to write any text for the interior. (Another point against me.) As I had about 10 minutes before my stop, I quickly scribbled down what came to mind. It wasn't quite enough text, so I put in the warning label. Everyone in the meeting loved it so much that they didn't change a word (to my shock). Oh, but we were still just a bit shy on the word count, so one of the graphic designers added in another line on the warning label: If splashed in eyes, rinse immediately with warm water. (One point for her.)
And what, you may ask, happened to that first one? My friend Kirin has it.
* * * * *
Ok. Here are the photos that I promised up above. And I also figured why bother trying to hide my disorganization. You might as well enjoy it.
And the text? It says, in both English and French, "The mobius ball is based upon a mathematical concept expressing infinity in a finite space. Whether used as a focus for meditation or as a diversion from daily drudgeries, the mobius ball provides intellectual stimulation with a fascinating and soothing tactile sensation."
The warning label then reads:
- for external use only
- not intended for internal consumption
- if splashed in eyes, rinse immediately with warm water
- recyclable where facilities exist
- batteries not included
Saturday, July 21, 2012
The Persian Weave
There have been a lot of questions about the name of the "Persian" weave on various blogs and sites on chain-mail. Many have claimed that it is because it was first in use way back in the Persian Empire, but as many scholars and historians have pointed out, there is no evidence for this.
When I was working at our store Chained Lynx, in Evanston, IL in the early 1990s, I was playing around with the box weave. This is that version of the European 4:1, 3 wide, folded over and seamed up the back. As I'm sure you know, it kept frustrating me how the last section would fall over on itself and become 2 links to 2 links to 2 links. I really hated the way it looked, and wanted to do something to stabilize it.
As I was using 16-gauge 3/8 inch rings, I noticed that there was plenty of room to tuck those last few links inside the weave, instead of having them hanging outside it where they could, and did, fall over. I tried doing that, and it worked.
Then I didn't like the way that it was suddenly no longer symmetrical, and so I reconnected all the links on the inside. Up one side, down the other. To my surprise I only needed to do 2 sides to make it look good. I expected to have to do all 4. (Hey, come on. I'd never done this before, and hadn't seen anyone else do it either, so give me a break.)
After successfully getting that silly bracelet to look good, and to my satisfaction, I put it in the display rack and didn't think anything else of it.
The next day a friend of mine, Rita Burke, came in and was looking at the new bracelets.
She spotted that bracelet and said, "That's a new weave."
"No it isn't", I replied. "It's just a box weave." After all, I hadn't thought that I was creating anything new, just fixing something old.
She persisted in her view, and showed me the new one alongside an old one, and you know what? She was right. It was because of Rita, and her love of that new weave, that I kept on making them.
I brought the new bracelet, and many others like it, to the Bristol Renaissance Faire that summer where I began calling it the Persian weave.
Why Persian?
Simple, really. I'm a member of the Baha'i Community, and I wanted to honour my religion. As I realized that calling it the "Baha'i" weave would just sound silly to anyone else, I decided to call it "Persian", which is where the Baha'i Faith came from.
Needless to say, the name stuck.
One little thing that I have rarely shared about this "discovery": I knew that if you took the box weave and removed a row, it would fall into the European 4:1. After Rita left the store, I decided to see what would happen if I removed a row from the Persian. To my shock, it held its shape. This I quickly called the 3/4 Persian.
Still being the curious little bug that I am, I wondered what would happen if I removed a second row. I must have stared at it in awe for over an hour: the 1/2 Persian.
Then, still being curious, I wondered what would happen if I removed a third row. That was when I discovered just how silly I can be, as I stared at a pile of links. (All right. I only removed two, but still. It was rather silly of me.)
A couple of days after that, I was playing around again and realized that there was plenty of space still left between the links. The 1/2 Persian, as you know, goes up through 1, down through 2. And so I tried going up through 2, down through 2. Again, to my shock, it worked: the 1/2 Persian 4. To this day, it is still one of my favorite weaves.
There are plenty of places on the internet where you can find these weaves, and the many variations on it. One of my favorite sites is: http://mailleartisans.org/weaves/weavelist.php?tags=Persian
Oh, and it was a few years later that I saw a jewelry magazine from the mid-1980's that had a single example of this weave in silver. Aside from that one photo, which only listed it as "chain bracelet", I've never seen any other earlier examples.
When I was working at our store Chained Lynx, in Evanston, IL in the early 1990s, I was playing around with the box weave. This is that version of the European 4:1, 3 wide, folded over and seamed up the back. As I'm sure you know, it kept frustrating me how the last section would fall over on itself and become 2 links to 2 links to 2 links. I really hated the way it looked, and wanted to do something to stabilize it.
As I was using 16-gauge 3/8 inch rings, I noticed that there was plenty of room to tuck those last few links inside the weave, instead of having them hanging outside it where they could, and did, fall over. I tried doing that, and it worked.
Then I didn't like the way that it was suddenly no longer symmetrical, and so I reconnected all the links on the inside. Up one side, down the other. To my surprise I only needed to do 2 sides to make it look good. I expected to have to do all 4. (Hey, come on. I'd never done this before, and hadn't seen anyone else do it either, so give me a break.)
After successfully getting that silly bracelet to look good, and to my satisfaction, I put it in the display rack and didn't think anything else of it.
The next day a friend of mine, Rita Burke, came in and was looking at the new bracelets.
She spotted that bracelet and said, "That's a new weave."
"No it isn't", I replied. "It's just a box weave." After all, I hadn't thought that I was creating anything new, just fixing something old.
She persisted in her view, and showed me the new one alongside an old one, and you know what? She was right. It was because of Rita, and her love of that new weave, that I kept on making them.
I brought the new bracelet, and many others like it, to the Bristol Renaissance Faire that summer where I began calling it the Persian weave.
Why Persian?
Simple, really. I'm a member of the Baha'i Community, and I wanted to honour my religion. As I realized that calling it the "Baha'i" weave would just sound silly to anyone else, I decided to call it "Persian", which is where the Baha'i Faith came from.
Needless to say, the name stuck.
One little thing that I have rarely shared about this "discovery": I knew that if you took the box weave and removed a row, it would fall into the European 4:1. After Rita left the store, I decided to see what would happen if I removed a row from the Persian. To my shock, it held its shape. This I quickly called the 3/4 Persian.
Still being the curious little bug that I am, I wondered what would happen if I removed a second row. I must have stared at it in awe for over an hour: the 1/2 Persian.
Then, still being curious, I wondered what would happen if I removed a third row. That was when I discovered just how silly I can be, as I stared at a pile of links. (All right. I only removed two, but still. It was rather silly of me.)
A couple of days after that, I was playing around again and realized that there was plenty of space still left between the links. The 1/2 Persian, as you know, goes up through 1, down through 2. And so I tried going up through 2, down through 2. Again, to my shock, it worked: the 1/2 Persian 4. To this day, it is still one of my favorite weaves.
There are plenty of places on the internet where you can find these weaves, and the many variations on it. One of my favorite sites is: http://mailleartisans.org/weaves/weavelist.php?tags=Persian
Oh, and it was a few years later that I saw a jewelry magazine from the mid-1980's that had a single example of this weave in silver. Aside from that one photo, which only listed it as "chain bracelet", I've never seen any other earlier examples.
Friday, July 20, 2012
Who Am I?
While it would be so easy to go off into philosophy and theology about who I am, I'll think I'll just stick to the point: I'm Mead.
I began making chain-mail back in 1987, when it seemed to me that it was a dying art. There were pretty much only 7 weaves that were being used, with dozens of names for them. To most jewelers and artists, chain-mail seemed like a silly anachronistic form with little use, aside from designers like Paco Rabanne.
I first learned the basic weaves under Connie Gilbert, and then joined her and Cindy Simms at Chained Lynx. We opened a store in Evanston, IL sometime around 1990, and both went on to bigger and better things since then. When I moved to Canada a few years later, I started Northern Lynx. When it became obvious that I would need a corporation for the Mobius Ball patent (yes, I'm the one who created, named and patented it), I began Radical Lynx, at which point I discovered, to my shame, my lack of head for business.
One day, shortly after I began to make chain, Connie gave me a gift of chain-mail juggling cubes. They were a standard Oriental 4:1, in a 4x4x4 grid. I just loved them, but asked if she could make juggling balls. She said that it wasn't possible, aside from covering a ball in chain-mail. It was, she said, a puzzle for chain-mailers for a very long time. A couple of minutes later, I suggested a pattern, but she said it wouldn't work. A few minutes after that, she walked out of the room and went into the studio. And a few minutes after that, there was a scream. My suggestion had worked.
And that, dear Reader, was the beginning of my career in chain-mail.
It was at that point that Connie recognized that I had some skill in developing new weaves, and she encouraged me in that over the next few years. (More on those "new" weaves later.)
Since that time, while I still do fashion designs and jewelry, my main focus has been on art pieces, including a copy of Van Gogh's Sunflowers in chain-mail. (The full story on that later, too.)
I began making chain-mail back in 1987, when it seemed to me that it was a dying art. There were pretty much only 7 weaves that were being used, with dozens of names for them. To most jewelers and artists, chain-mail seemed like a silly anachronistic form with little use, aside from designers like Paco Rabanne.
I first learned the basic weaves under Connie Gilbert, and then joined her and Cindy Simms at Chained Lynx. We opened a store in Evanston, IL sometime around 1990, and both went on to bigger and better things since then. When I moved to Canada a few years later, I started Northern Lynx. When it became obvious that I would need a corporation for the Mobius Ball patent (yes, I'm the one who created, named and patented it), I began Radical Lynx, at which point I discovered, to my shame, my lack of head for business.
One day, shortly after I began to make chain, Connie gave me a gift of chain-mail juggling cubes. They were a standard Oriental 4:1, in a 4x4x4 grid. I just loved them, but asked if she could make juggling balls. She said that it wasn't possible, aside from covering a ball in chain-mail. It was, she said, a puzzle for chain-mailers for a very long time. A couple of minutes later, I suggested a pattern, but she said it wouldn't work. A few minutes after that, she walked out of the room and went into the studio. And a few minutes after that, there was a scream. My suggestion had worked.
And that, dear Reader, was the beginning of my career in chain-mail.
It was at that point that Connie recognized that I had some skill in developing new weaves, and she encouraged me in that over the next few years. (More on those "new" weaves later.)
Since that time, while I still do fashion designs and jewelry, my main focus has been on art pieces, including a copy of Van Gogh's Sunflowers in chain-mail. (The full story on that later, too.)
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