Milgrane: Embracing the Sapphire by Y.L. Wigman

Author:Y.L. Wigman [Wigman, Y.L.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781594935282
Publisher: Bella Books
Published: 2017-01-22T23:00:00+00:00

Eliane bent over to examine Sabine’s unfinished creation. “It’s very fragile and feminine. I like it, but it needs something. Where’s your design?”

At the work desk where they sat, Sabine passed across a pencil sketch of the filigree pendant she’d been planning. “What about a few emeralds or sapphires? Maybe rubies?”

“They would have to be small or they might dominate the piece. The filigree is the starring technique, so you want to find the right balance.” Eliane drew another sketch under Sabine’s, placing a short string of tiny cabochons at opposing corners of the symmetrically square drawing.

“How about some beading to support the setting?” Sabine penciled in a row of dots encompassing the stones.

“You mean milgrane?”

“Can’t remember if that’s what it’s called. I’ve seen it used in Victorian pieces.”

“Yes, me too. India has used the technique for thousands of years. When done perfectly, it’s beautiful. But it’s very old fashioned and difficult to do by hand. With the right graining and beading tools, we can have a go.”

Sabine held the page at arm’s length and, heads together, they pondered the result.

Eliane said, “At school in Florence, we did a 3-D modeled design on a computer that printed out as a three-dimensional wax model. Then we cast the piece in silver. It makes a technique like milgrane commercially viable, production-wise.”

Sabine nudged her. “You’re giving me heaps of terrific ideas. I’m getting excited! What if we produced something like this in both platinum set with sapphires and gold set with orange diamonds?”

“Such fine detail may require the hardness of platinum, rather than gold. Let’s see if we can make it first, you wild, impetuous fool!” Playfully, Eliane shoved her sister aside. “Must be your turn to make the coffee.”

Sabine headed for the kitchen. Outside, the day was gray and cold, with gusts of sleet slipping down the fogged-up glass balcony doors. Inside, the apartment was toasty warm.

Eliane did more rapid sketches and colored in stones. “If you don’t mind my saying, I’m a little shocked at how blasé you seem to be about what happened to you.”

“Latte or cappuccino? I have cannoli.”

“Oh-ho! Pastries. Now you’re not fighting fair. A latte. Are you trying to fatten me up?”

“You’re eating for two.”

“Don’t change the subject.” Eliane dropped her pencil and pushed away the sketches.

“I told you, it’s a long time ago. It’s not like it was last week. I don’t think about it. Would you froth the milk for me?”

Eliane got up from the desk and pulled a carton of milk out of the fridge. “What about counseling?”

“Counseling, schmounseling…who needs it? I live my life as if it never happened and flatly refuse to give it any more space in my head. Still, it’s odd what you remember. Those boys stank to high heaven, Rick particularly. To this day, a whiff of male stench makes me gag. Otherwise it’s all dead and buried and has absolutely no effect on me now. Forgive me if I refuse to dig up a corpse just to check that it really is desiccated.

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