s00038 mexican agate pendant

$90.00

"Cartography of a Forgotten Fire"

This pendant holds more than the copper and stone—it holds childhood carved into salt, wind, and blood. I was small then, bare-legged and wild, roaming the rocky spine of Sveti Petar peninsula in Makarska, just above the sea. Always with a slingshot clenched in my hand like a promise. Hunting dragons, or maybe just the silence behind them. My knees were always bloody, torn by the ancient, sun-heated stones, but I never felt pain—only urgency, as if some invisible map depended on my movement.

I’d stop at tide pools, those shallow basins where sea had briefly lingered before evaporating, leaving behind brittle skins of salt. They cracked under the sun like ice, revealing nothing, yet suggesting something—like truths half-remembered or stories the sea once told but never finished.

This pendant was born in that memory.

I wrapped Mexican lattice agate in copper the way I once wrapped rope around cliffside railings: not for beauty, but for survival. The stone is full of memory too, with its angular striations and glassy windows—like fossilized lightning, or maps sketched by water. It reminded me of those salt-cracked puddles. The kind you wanted to fall into just to see where you’d land.

The copper was not cooperative. It never is. It snarls and stiffens. You must talk to it. Argue a little, talk to it, offer it soothing in return. Sometimes I think it hears my accent—my Slavic grammar betrays me—and chooses to resist out of habit. Still, if you persist with care and fury, it yields something… nearly true.

Wearing this is not for decoration. It is for memory. For holding something silent but pulsing. You’ll feel the stone under your fingers, and maybe—just maybe—you’ll remember too: the salt, the dragons, the scraped skin, the slingshot in your small clenched hand, and the way the world once shimmered with danger and invitation at the same time.

It’s not perfect. But perfection never climbed rocks barefoot. It never got lost. It never bled.

#rubiace #ballarat #ballaratartist #artisan #wirewrappedjewelry #mexicanagate #copperart #handcraftedjewelry #earthytalismans

"Cartography of a Forgotten Fire"

This pendant holds more than the copper and stone—it holds childhood carved into salt, wind, and blood. I was small then, bare-legged and wild, roaming the rocky spine of Sveti Petar peninsula in Makarska, just above the sea. Always with a slingshot clenched in my hand like a promise. Hunting dragons, or maybe just the silence behind them. My knees were always bloody, torn by the ancient, sun-heated stones, but I never felt pain—only urgency, as if some invisible map depended on my movement.

I’d stop at tide pools, those shallow basins where sea had briefly lingered before evaporating, leaving behind brittle skins of salt. They cracked under the sun like ice, revealing nothing, yet suggesting something—like truths half-remembered or stories the sea once told but never finished.

This pendant was born in that memory.

I wrapped Mexican lattice agate in copper the way I once wrapped rope around cliffside railings: not for beauty, but for survival. The stone is full of memory too, with its angular striations and glassy windows—like fossilized lightning, or maps sketched by water. It reminded me of those salt-cracked puddles. The kind you wanted to fall into just to see where you’d land.

The copper was not cooperative. It never is. It snarls and stiffens. You must talk to it. Argue a little, talk to it, offer it soothing in return. Sometimes I think it hears my accent—my Slavic grammar betrays me—and chooses to resist out of habit. Still, if you persist with care and fury, it yields something… nearly true.

Wearing this is not for decoration. It is for memory. For holding something silent but pulsing. You’ll feel the stone under your fingers, and maybe—just maybe—you’ll remember too: the salt, the dragons, the scraped skin, the slingshot in your small clenched hand, and the way the world once shimmered with danger and invitation at the same time.

It’s not perfect. But perfection never climbed rocks barefoot. It never got lost. It never bled.

#rubiace #ballarat #ballaratartist #artisan #wirewrappedjewelry #mexicanagate #copperart #handcraftedjewelry #earthytalismans