When you open the package, you may notice the slightly uneven frayed edges at the end of the thread. Don’t worry, those are the marks left by A – lian’s fingertip warmth.
In a wooden house outside the ancient city of Chiang Mai, this third – generation craftswoman is sitting on a bamboo – woven mat, winding plain cotton threads around a wooden board on her knees. In the bamboo basket are scattered newly – polished small elephant silver pendants. What catches the eye more are the four – colored beads placed beside them.
The blue ones are like the morning mist over the Chao Phraya River.
The white ones resemble the floating clouds in the mountains.
The colorful ones are like the flower – printed cloth in the market.
The red ones are like the candles in front of the temple.
The color of each bead exudes a natural warmth.
“Grandma said that good threads should be like the roots of a banyan tree, tough yet not rigid.” A – lian’s scissors are polished to a shine. It’s an old brass item left by her grandfather. When choosing threads, she always uses a magnifying glass to pick out those plain – colored cotton threads with even thickness.
The treatment of the beads is even more particular.
The blue beads need to be soaked in the river water on a full – moon night for seven hours.
The white beads have to be fumigated for three days with jasmine flowers boiled in mountain spring water.
The colorful beads are dyed with the crushed petals of impatiens picked by the children.
The red beads are mixed with the aged incense ashes from the temple incense burner to increase their texture.
The most time – consuming part is to attach the beads and small elephants to the rope. A – lian has a callus on the index finger of her right hand, which is worn out from holding the thread all year round. When fixing the beads, she adjusts the position of each one repeatedly to ensure a harmonious color combination. “These beads and small elephants are the eyes of the bracelet,” she says with a smile, showing the semi – finished product in her palm. The small elephant pendant next to the colorful beads still has a bit of turmeric root powder on it, which was rubbed on when dyeing the beads yesterday and didn’t come off even after three washes.
Uncle Pu, the silversmith, lives in the next alley. Every morning, he brings newly – made small elephant pendants. The four – colored small elephants correspond to the beads one by one. These silver pieces go through twelve rounds of polishing in his hands, and the edges are deliberately left with a bit of curvature. “The ones made by machines are too sharp and may scratch the girls’ skin.” Once, when Uncle Pu’s grandson wasn’t noticed by the adults, he carved an extra arc on the ear of the red small elephant. A – lian simply collected this batch of pendants. “Let’s consider it as a blessing from the child.”
Last week, A – lian received a photo from a girl in Tibet. She tied the bracelet with white beads and small elephants to the wooden handle of the prayer wheel. The sunlight passed through the knots, casting fragmented light spots on the scriptures. The white beads were particularly pure in the light and shadow. A – lian pasted the photo on the wall, next to a graffiti drawn by her daughter – a little girl wearing a bracelet, with the four – colored beads and small elephants on her wrist looking like a string of glowing gemstones.
If you count carefully, you will find that the combination of beads and small elephants on each bracelet is just right. That’s the rule set by A – lian’s grandmother: 28 procedures, 28 blessings. From choosing the thread to attaching the beads and small elephants, not a single step can be replaced by a machine. After all, some warmth can only be brought out by the sweat in the palm; and some stories of colors can only be told clearly by imperfect handicrafts.
Now, these bracelets with the morning dew of Chiang Mai are traveling across mountains and seas. Perhaps it will accompany you as you walk through the corridor of the office building, and the blue beads and small elephants will bring you a moment of tranquility. Maybe it will follow you as you step on the beach waves, and the colorful beads and small elephants will jump with vitality as you move. Wherever you are, the beads and small elephants attached by hand are gentle reminders from a distant foreign land: there is always someone taking every detail seriously for you.
Every Knot Hides the Morning Light of Chiang Mai
When you open the package, you may notice the slightly uneven frayed edges at the end of the thread. Don’t worry, those are the marks left by A – lian’s fingertip warmth.
In a wooden house outside the ancient city of Chiang Mai, this third – generation craftswoman is sitting on a bamboo – woven mat, winding plain cotton threads around a wooden board on her knees. In the bamboo basket are scattered newly – polished small elephant silver pendants. What catches the eye more are the four – colored beads placed beside them.
The color of each bead exudes a natural warmth.
“Grandma said that good threads should be like the roots of a banyan tree, tough yet not rigid.” A – lian’s scissors are polished to a shine. It’s an old brass item left by her grandfather. When choosing threads, she always uses a magnifying glass to pick out those plain – colored cotton threads with even thickness.
The treatment of the beads is even more particular.
The most time – consuming part is to attach the beads and small elephants to the rope. A – lian has a callus on the index finger of her right hand, which is worn out from holding the thread all year round. When fixing the beads, she adjusts the position of each one repeatedly to ensure a harmonious color combination. “These beads and small elephants are the eyes of the bracelet,” she says with a smile, showing the semi – finished product in her palm. The small elephant pendant next to the colorful beads still has a bit of turmeric root powder on it, which was rubbed on when dyeing the beads yesterday and didn’t come off even after three washes.
Uncle Pu, the silversmith, lives in the next alley. Every morning, he brings newly – made small elephant pendants. The four – colored small elephants correspond to the beads one by one. These silver pieces go through twelve rounds of polishing in his hands, and the edges are deliberately left with a bit of curvature. “The ones made by machines are too sharp and may scratch the girls’ skin.” Once, when Uncle Pu’s grandson wasn’t noticed by the adults, he carved an extra arc on the ear of the red small elephant. A – lian simply collected this batch of pendants. “Let’s consider it as a blessing from the child.”
Last week, A – lian received a photo from a girl in Tibet. She tied the bracelet with white beads and small elephants to the wooden handle of the prayer wheel. The sunlight passed through the knots, casting fragmented light spots on the scriptures. The white beads were particularly pure in the light and shadow. A – lian pasted the photo on the wall, next to a graffiti drawn by her daughter – a little girl wearing a bracelet, with the four – colored beads and small elephants on her wrist looking like a string of glowing gemstones.
If you count carefully, you will find that the combination of beads and small elephants on each bracelet is just right. That’s the rule set by A – lian’s grandmother: 28 procedures, 28 blessings. From choosing the thread to attaching the beads and small elephants, not a single step can be replaced by a machine. After all, some warmth can only be brought out by the sweat in the palm; and some stories of colors can only be told clearly by imperfect handicrafts.
Now, these bracelets with the morning dew of Chiang Mai are traveling across mountains and seas. Perhaps it will accompany you as you walk through the corridor of the office building, and the blue beads and small elephants will bring you a moment of tranquility. Maybe it will follow you as you step on the beach waves, and the colorful beads and small elephants will jump with vitality as you move. Wherever you are, the beads and small elephants attached by hand are gentle reminders from a distant foreign land: there is always someone taking every detail seriously for you.