MEN AND JEWELRY...THEN AND NOW

There is something
about a man
in jewelry.

But long before Johnny Depp and David Beckham were around to show us how well it can be done (ahem, it's getting hot in here..) men were wearing jewelry in every region of the world....and they weren't shy about it.




In Africa, when power was concentrated in a ruler who controlled valuable resources--marketable commodities like gold and ivory, for example--he generally encouraged the development of arts and crafts, both to express his power visually and to have offerings to give to the gods out of gratitude for his privileged position.

Today, objects of adornment are part of a multilayered communication system in all African societies. Jewelry, particularly beaded jewelry, communicated cultural values in a symbolic language that expresses rank, religion, politics, and artistic attitude. Beaded jewelry is central to the lives of all Africans--and its ability to reflect a cultural heritage is still more pronounced in Africa than in any other part of the world.



At least eight thousand years before Europeans crossed the Atlantic, Indians were making, wearing and trading beads of shell, pearl, bone, teeth, stone and fossils.

North American Indian languages appear to have no word for art; artistic expression was fully integrated into many aspects of life and not treated as a separate activity. Objects of adornment were created to serve a host of functions, both secular and sacred. The extent of their complexity depended on the lifestyle of the group and the resources available to them.

The best known shell bead was wampum: small, cylindrical, centrally drilled white and purple beads made primarily of the quahog clamshell. Strung on leather thongs or woven into belts, the wampum was sometimes worn as decoration but developed far greater significance as currency and was used for objects commemorating major political and ceremonial events.

In 1497, Jacques Cartier, a French explorer wrote, "The thing most precious that they have in all the world, they call it esurgny; it is as white as any snow: they make beads and wear them about their necks as we do gold, accounting it as the most precious thing in the world."


Until it was absorbed into China in 1959, Tibet was a Buddhist theocracy ruled jointly by a powerful hierarchy of monks and nobility that recognized the Dalai Lama as their spiritual and temporal leader. It was by far the most influencial country in the eastern regions of central Asia, with Ladakh, Bhutan, Sikkim, Nepal, Mongolia and Chinese provinces functioning as cultural outposts of Tibet.

Jewelry in these countries shared important similarities with Tibet. All personal adornment had religious significance. Tibetan jewelry is often monumental in scale, to express the rank of the owner and is sturdy enough to withstand life on the road. There is an exuberance of color in Tibetan jewelry, characterized by liberal use of turquoise, coral and amber beads.

The use of all adornment in Tibet, including beads, was outlawed during the Cultural Revolution and the Chinese repression of Buddhism in the 1960's. It has since reemerged.

Worldwide, jewelry continues to tell a story of our cultural history and values. Wearing jewelry proves to be a universal human need.

It's time to give men more options.
Bronwen

*credit: The History of Beads, Lois Sherr Dubin, copyright 1987

Rocky Mountain High

Sure, we've all heard the John Denver song but only those of us with a weakness for pristine aspen groves, afternoon thunderstorms and high alpine meadows truly understand that 'Rocky Mountain High' is an actual bodily phenomenon, which is contracted by frolicking in the state of Colorado.

It all begins by meeting up with old friends who know and love the state as much as you do.
The high comes on nice and smooth and by the time you rustle up some mountain bikes and make a few phone calls to old pals, you're beginning to wonder how long this feeling of euphoria is gonna last.



Chance upon an aspen grove suited perfectly for a jewelry photo shoot and the high quickly intensifies to the point of needing to pinch yourself periodically to make sure you are still capable of feeling pain.


Spend a few days camping in fields of lupine with snow capped peaks surrounding you and your symptoms now become a incessant verbal exclamation about the astounding beauty and a ruthless self-interrogation of what prompted you to move to the city from this paradise in the first place???


Throw in some serious girl time and and a little hubba hubba and you're beginning to understand the full magnitude of the affliction and wonder if you might be able to buy it on the street corner in east Oakland.



The high next localizes in the upper left quadrant of your chest in the form of swelling. You monitor and treat the swelling with plenty of fresh food and wine as you participate in the marriage ceremony of two humans that are so cool individually that the official uniting is almost too much to bear...so you dance wildly for a few hours to take the edge off.

Like any good high, 'Rocky Mountain High' leaves you wanting more.

And like any good high, a hangover is expected.

However, if managed properly with great photographic reminders (thanks primarily to Nic) and vivid memories, 'Rocky Mountain High' settles into a feeling of gratitude and the resolve to return for more.
Bronwen

Old...it's the new new

I love all things ancient.

Unintentionally, I cultivated my fascination with ancient things while in college. I simply kept taking the interesting courses and and lo and behold four years later I walked out of Boulder, Colorado with a degree in Anthropology.

No intent to dig.
No intent to teach.
No intent to collect data (at least in the career sense anyway).

In fact, I spent a lot of money on a college education that has done virtually nothing for my career path...but one that has seriously shaped the manner in which I look at objects in the world. I love objects with a history. A story. A meaning...and therefore, value.

The more surrounded I become with objects of mass production, the more I feel myself gravitating to objects that have been around for a while. Things that look a little rough around the edges. Things that have been around the block a few times. Things with some real live grit and life to them.

I dress almost exclusively in used clothing.

My most recent obsession is antique trade beads. African, Indonesian, Middle Eastern, Native American, European...beads that were really truly traded as gifts of power and a form of currency before we had coins and bills. Beads made of glass, horn, bone, tusk, teeth, clay, coral and stone. Beads that were artfully crafted by hand and assigned a value. Beads that today still carry value, and will continue to increase in value because we can never again make a trade bead that was made in Africa in the 1700s.

I used to gasp at price tags on antiques. I don't anymore. Now, I appreciate.

As container ships line up to pull into the port of Oakland, packed with shiny new chotchkies fresh from a factory in China, India, Vietnam...my appreciation for all things "old" deepens. I think old is the new new.
Bronwen

Eco~nfusion

In the eco-fashion world, it's become a bit of a quest to discover the new "it" item in sustainable style. Hemp is passe but bamboo is smokin' hot. After all, it reproduces faster than Angelina Jolie and when mixed with lycra it can make any garment feel like your PJs. Organic cotton has simply become mainstream (and it's about time).

In the accessories division, the lines have become so blurred between recycled, reclaimed, repurposed, fair trade, eco-friendly, greener-than-green...I reluctantly admit that at times I find myself almost virtually incapable of thinking critically about sustainability anymore.

I was shopping in Portland, Oregon recently and passed a store front displaying a bedroom set which made my heart immediately leap up and pay attention. My eyes were literally watering. Rough barn wood that was so perfectly worn and mismatched yet so masterfully put together.....my body turned at will and marched in.

The label on the furniture line read "Eco-Furniture" and at once it seemed too good to be true! I inquired about the history of the pieces, the supply chain, the origin of the raw materials, the design process, manufacturing...and the saleswoman eagerly shared information about this "Eco-Furniture" line. I learned that the wood was, in fact, reclaimed from old barns in Brazil (oi! one of my favorite countries on earth....was meant to be!!!) then shipped to America where a team of designers set to work on the plans for the perfect bedroom set. From there it was sent to Indonesia where it was meticulously crafted by...well...we weren't quite certain whom...and then sent back again to America where the drawers were lined with...well...we weren't quite sure with what...and placed in this very window where I stood outside waiting for it....like a long lost lover.

The price tag flirted with me with it's "Eco-Furniture" prelude to the $7,500.00 retail price. My heart and brain were in conflict as I tried to quickly calculate the fuel used for shipping from Brazil to America to Indonesia and back again, the questionable labor in the manufacturing process and the ingredients used to treat the furniture......but it was "reclaimed" barn wood afterall.....and therefore pronounced "GREEN!"

I'm confused. And I find myself going back to the basics for reference. I came home from Portland and by chance met a woodworker who specializes in handcrafting all non-toxic furniture from dead-fall around the Marin/Sonoma area. He collects it in his old rusty truck, drives it back to his shop and magically turns it into the most incredibly beautiful, rustic, local furniture you can imagine. We sat on a sawhorse and discussed my ideas for the design. We shared an apple. We talked about costs...his business...my business...his children. We connected as two human beings face to face, who share a common concern for the planet and transparency in our actions.

To me, this feels organic. This feels "green." Somehow I think my new furniture will have more meaning to me this way. I like this version of "green."
Bronwen

Viva Baja

Spent 10 days in Baja recently. 5 days sea kayaking down the west coast of the island of Espiritu Santo in the Sea of Cortez. Stunning. Desolate, arid landscape meets tropical ocean complete with healthy living reefs festooned with fantastically colorful fish, mantas, turtles. With the exception of a local pulpo fisherman, we saw and spoke with no one else but eachother and I found myself thinking much about "place." Our place as humans on this planet...and my little place in the midst of all us humans.

Spent the other 5 days exploring southern Baja and found it rather perplexing. It seemed every other vehicle had either a California, Colorado, Washington, Oregon or Montana license plate. Modern adobe homes with staggering pricetags sprouting like agave in every imaginable color on the mexican spectrum. The owners of the shops, galleries, restaurants, and hotels..... American.....and the Mexican wait-staff speak almost exclusively in english. The dollar/peso exchange rate apparently a formality. We paid more for migas in Todo Santos than we do at home in San Francisco. The newspapers are in english.

The world is getting smaller. And it's happening so fast.

We have to trust that we will all end up in our right "places." Clearly, I'm still trying to find mine.
Bronwen

Adventure Chic Jewelry

Girls just want adventure...and jewelry!

When I was leading backcountry trips, I found myself longing for jewelry that I could wear on expeditions and journeys abroad: jewelry that could withstand rapids and rock climbing....but that would still traipse through Tuscany or go dancing with me Buenos Aires. I wanted sturdy yet sexy. Simple yet sophisticated. Delicate...yet powerful as the women wearing it. I set about designing a line of jewelry for women like me—adventuresome women who want to accessorize without compromising FUNction, fashion…..or the environment. www.bronwenonline.com

Vertigo....the ultimate adventure?

Seven weeks ago, I woke one morning with severe vertigo. Not just your everyday run of the mill morning dizzy spell. Full blown vertigo. Violent spinning. No up, no down. No gravity. Simultaneously falling and whirling. Lots of vomiting. In short, no reference point whatsoever. Disorientation at it's finest. At one point, I literally found myself asking.....who the hell is this Bronwen character anyway?!

It was the most painfully incapacitating three days of my life and I hope to never experience it again. Talk about cramping my style!!! I'm a horrible candidate for incapacitation. I'm pleased to report that I am on the mend and only now get "dizzy" occasionally, which I've learned is normal following a bout of severe vertigo. Oddly, I've come out of the entire experience contemplating......pretty much everything I've ever learned from society.

When we step out of our normal world and leave behind us all the usual barriers and prejudices, we tend to become more adventurous.

Sometimes when I travel, I purposefully get lost. Sometimes I end up in a bummer place and get hungry and grumpy and the whole getting lost thing kinda sucks. But more often than not, I uncover a place or a person or a thought that becomes very important in my life. Allowing ourselves to get lost......the adventure takes on a life of its own.

The same is true for our THINKING. The more adventurous we become with our thinking, the more opportunities exist to uncover something that you actually believe at your very core. I mean believe with your heart and your body and your mind. Not because everyone else says they believe it or a book tells you to believe it. But because it makes sense and feels right to YOU in your gut (or as my 3 year old niece, Wyatt, calls it your "gutlet"). We all want to feel good in our gutlets, right?

I'm not saying that severe vertigo is any great ride or anything like that. But I am saying that sometimes we need to be tipped upside down and whirled around, spun wildly, and perhaps even vomit a few times god forbid, to even question our own thinking and believing.

The adventure continues.......
Bronwen

Find Your Rhythm

Find Your Rhythm Lifestyle...a shared passion for physical recreation in the outdoors, relentless world travel, mental/emotional fitness (this means an equal balance of employing our brains and our hearts as guides) and general health-promoting habits. We're talking about being free in our hearts so we can:

• find the rhythm in life that feels most authentic and meaningful to us
  
• express this authentic rhythm to the world---it's what nature intended
  

My authentic rhythm happens to be one of constant CHANGE. I have a self-proclaimed, perpetual case of wanderlust. Just the mere mention of a new adventure or distant journey and I immediately perk up. My husband lures me to our more mundane tasks by attaching the promise of an adventure to get me interested. Instead of, "C'mon Bron, we need to go grocery shopping," he'll wisely say, "Hey Bron, we need groceries badly and there is a new Whole Foods in Oakland. We'll take the bikes and ride through a really seedy area of town to get there..it'll be a real adventure!" And I'm already clamoring to slip into my biking shorts. It's really that easy.

I am painfully paralyzed by predictability; I thoroughly thrive in change. What am I gonna do? It's my rhythm. It's what makes me feel most alive---the best version of Bronwen possible. I'm learning to love it.

What's your rhythm?