Why is Michal cranking out feminist calendars - is he putting me on?
Posted:
I take my work very seriously. I make this calendar wallpaper to encourage people to believe in themselves, to make them understand deep in their hearts that they can have a better today - and that it's up to them. It doesn't matter what anybody else thinks. The power lies with you.
Maintaining a calendar isn't so much of a science as it is an art. It reveals a lot about our guiding principles as a society.
Consider the fact that the Romans assigned each hour of the day to a heavenly body. There was a Sun-hour followed by a Moon-hour. If the day began with a Sun-hour, it was a Sun-day. The privilege of naming a day went to the celestial body that showed up first.
For a while the Romans had an eight-day week rather than a seven-day week. It probably had to do with how long their groceries were supposed to last. People in the city had to know when fresh food from the country would be available - and it probably only came once a week. If supplies in the country were low, the week literally might get longer to stretch out those supplies.
The seven-day week was famously changed to a ten-day week during the French Revolution, a time when a lot of tradition was being replaced by standards considered more rational. The cycle of seven days, marked by a holy day or day of rest at its beginning or end, has nevertheless remained the most popular. In many cultures, an extra day of rest for laboring men has also become a common tradition.
What is not common across most cultures is a way of naming the days of the week. I use a calendar that names the days of the week not after planets or ancient gods, but after the seven pillars of cultures that I identify as the most basic philosophical distinctions of the human experience. I arrange them in a way that helps me to understand and explain the complicated cultural interactions of modern society.
You may not be prepared to adopt a different calendar as long as everybody around you is still using the one Pope Gregory reformed back in the 16th century. That's okay.
I'm offering you free calendar wallpaper so you can think about how important the calendar is as an art-form, not just as a way of counting the days but as a way of organizing our culture and giving our society a direction.
If you think society is heading in the wrong direction and needs a little help, you can try to celebrate Love Your Neighbor Day as I have done - by placing it between Saturday and Sunday - and seeing how you feel. You might feel power and freedom from having broken the cycle of Monday to Friday, Saturday, Sunday. I did. It empowered me and gave me a sense of peace that continues to fuel me to this day. Maybe it can fuel you too.
The HD Body Acceptance Monthly Poster Calendar, A.D. 2013
high-definition digital wallpaper featuring the intelligent and graceful Margo Rijnvis
Margo and I hope that this calendar will brighten your day and lift your spirits high every time you visit your desktop.
Download this monthly poster calendar for December 2013 with a black background
Help End the Abuse of Process With Art
Posted:
Strength and dignity are her clothing...
Proverbs 31:25
Author's Note: I have been enjoined from sharing the details of my true romance adventure until such time that the other party is prepared to present her perspective on the affair arrangement...
When I arrived in Europe on the 20th of June, 2011, I had no plan and certainly no idea that by the end of the week I would be practicing photography with a woman I had never met, a naturist who had never before allowed herself to be photographed nude. It was the first of a whole series of firsts for the both of us.
As an artist, from the beginning of my adult career, my work had been devoted to the problem of body acceptance, a goal that I would later learn was shared by a whole community of people called naturists, a humble portion of which I discovered residing in Poland, a country whose cultural conservatism does not lend itself readily to forward thinking. One of those forward-thinking Polish naturists happened to be Margo.
I had grown up in America. Land of opportunity. I came of age in the booming 90s when everything was possible. She had grown up in Poland. She had come of age at a time when the Soviets were making sure that there wasn't even anything to eat in the country. I couldn't even properly translate the word "opportunity" into Polish.
Each man grows up with his own kind of poverty. Even if he's got a warm house and plenty of food and a soft bed and plenty of entertainment, there's always something that a man needs. Sometimes he just needs to be listened to, if only by the birds and the trees, but preferably by another man, even if he's an artist from America who isn't very good at listening. By learning how to listen, we learn how to cooperate. By cooperating, we build a better world. In a better world, there are no devils to abuse us. A better world doesn't lend itself to abuse because a better world is populated by people who have learned how to listen.
6,000 miles across Europe with a complete stranger
During our trip across Europe, Margo very bravely opened up to me and to the camera. It was a difficult thing to do considering the scars that she carries. I wanted to share with the world her often joyful, often sad, often angry but always liberating experience except that the Internet is full of pictures of naked women and men and full of trolls who abuse them.
I realized that what I really need to point out is not the openness that Margo and I cultivated between ourselves, but the darkness that continues to surround us. When I censor nudity, I do so in a way that does not compromise the integrity of the human body. In censoring the photographs that Margo and I took during our trip, I was quick to notice that in those pictures where Margo was at her most open, at her most unguarded and most relaxed, in a word, when she was herself and basking in the sun I was forced to blacken her completely.
Why does our society drive people into darkness? Why can we not accept ourselves as we are? Why can we not accept our bodies? Have we truly become eunuchs? Or are we capable of defying the sickness that pits us against each other? Together we could conquer the devils that abuse us.
Whether you enjoy being nude or not, whether you've been photographed nude or not, but especially if, for you, like for Margo, it's something you never thought you would do, consider submitting your own photograph to be published in a censored manner as a form of protest against the ubiquitous presence of the human body on the internet, naked or not, that is published and duplicated ad infinitum without context and without regard for the identity or the needs of the individual being depicted.
Michal's Dictionary: Bare Bottom Women
Some people need a reason to be looking at a bare bottom. They might be trying to arouse themselves sexually or they might be preparing to administer corporal punishment.
As a nudist, I prefer being naked over being clothed as a general rule. That means I don't need a reason to be naked. I need a reason to be clothed.
As a naturist, I don't need a reason to be looking at a bare bottom. I'm comfortable being surrounded by bare bottoms as a general rule.
I don't fetishize bare bottoms. I think they're useful artifacts. Without bottoms our legs wouldn't work. They attach our legs to the rest of our body and covering them up with fabric doesn't improve that function.
Pronunciation of Bare Bottom Women
I have yet to publish a pronunciation for the words "bare bottom women."
Video of me pronouncing "bare bottom women."
Definition of Bare Bottom Women
Bare Bottom Women are a delightful addition to any naturist locale or event.
References for bare bottom women
I have yet to find good references for Bare Bottom Women
Samples of Fiction from Michal's Corpus
Michal's Fiction Corpus of Acceptance Literature (FiCAL) is presented under the Bare Bottom imprint. It is currently comprised of six bodies of work, each representing a different pillar of culture and incorporating a wide variety of writhing styles.
A story bible for a comic book series set in a post climate-change California narrated by eight characters who live through a natural disaster that sinks Los Angeles and triggers a war with an expansionist Mexican government covertly supported by China.
Frame #1340
if the women are benzing they took a high dose. dominos is usually a cns depressant. its not supposed to make you dance.
An experimental science fiction Christology that makes Jesus the hard boiled narrator of his own early years on a bizarro earth made dark by volcanic ash and informally ruled by a man from Mars who sells bottled air.
I was enamored of something: that is the truth. The creature was timid, or at least seemed to be so. It was bashful - supremely bashful - in fact, gloriously bashful, I decided, in the deepest, reddest chamber of my heart. This careless captivation: this momentary loss of self-consciousness that affected her eyes and made her hold my gaze for a brief moment: this almost immediate turning away and hiding of her face was a mark of modesty, that blessed virtue which remains - though largely symbolic - one of the most important of virtues - a necessary and heartwarming gesture that modern women have all but abandoned. I was grateful for it.
Heavy and colorful make-up was popular. Men wore make-up - not nearly as much as women, and especially young girls, but they wore it. Hair dyes were somewhat less popular; they were colorful, but more restrained. Men were clean-shaved. Women wore long hair and dressed it.
When I got back to Stando's house, I gave him the mellophone and said, "Give this to the army guys once they come." Going back to the Old Town, at five o'clock I attended Mass at the Jesuit church. It was full of old women; there were few men. I was the youngest thing around. How strange, I thought to myself. Does no one among the younger generation appreciate the divine service? Then I noticed something even more strange: the homily was being given by the selfsame Italian Jesuit who had whipped himself on top of Henry the Bearded's tomb just a few months ago. He was being translated by the local priest! I laughed out loud. Was he going to whip himself again? The babičkas gave me a dirty look. I laughed. This time, in the Czech Republic, the Italian Jesuit wasn't going to find many able-bodied volunteers: they were all too old and tired.
Washington Dulles is driving the truck, I said to myself. He doesn't know how smelly it is back here. Maybe if I go to the tailgate, I can reach up and drop the tarp. No, silly: don't do that: you'll fall out the back. Then what do we do? I said to myself. Just wait, I said. It'll be fine. It's a long way to the border, though. What happens if we don't stop? What happens if we stop and Washington Dulles finds out we're all dead? That would suck. We're not going to die in the back of a truck: that would be silly. Besides, the Lord is with us. He will protect us. Wait a minute: is the Lord with us? or with them? I mean, with me? Is he with me? Am I on some kind of special mission? for the Lord? What the hell am I doing? Where am I going? What the hell am I trying to accomplish, Lord? Where are you? He'll be with you when you're dead. No, silly: he's with you all the time. I can't believe I danced with old women.
Jesus entertained his guests in his bedroom. They sat around his tiny, little table. Through the wall, they heard a group of old women chanting the Rosary.
A literature book narrated by a pair of siblings on either side of the Atlantic whose profoundly weird sexual experiences pose a serious challenge to their traditional understanding of mathematicians, marriage, gay young men and God.
Admiration is the acceptance of an object's worth, whether this be determined by its existing qualities or by its potential. It is not an estimation of an object's worth. Considering the other words which describe a recognition of worthiness - like respect, esteem, and regard - admiration seems to have more to do with feeling, and less to do with ranking, since we say we feel admiration, and we rarely qualify this phrase - whereas, for example, we often consider showing respect to be the bare minimum of that which is required from us, and we often say we hold people or achievements in the highest esteem or the highest regard.
– Title 3, Regarding a Dream, Chapter 7, The Seventh Day, Part 1, Strength & Security Sector Reform, Section 2, Facing a Choice, Paragraph 11
JO: Yes: I have a habit of listening to opera whenever I paint: even if it's bare wall.
Luka turned around. The headlights came back towards us. We hid in the bushes. The woman was not hard to find. She was walking along the road. Her white cape glowed in the darkness. Luka caught her in his high beams. For a moment, the brilliancy of her cloak flashed before our eyes. It was all we could see. She had crossed her arms in front of her head. She was barefoot. She had dirty feet - beautiful, dirty feet.
– Title 3, Regarding a Dream, Chapter 2, The Second Day, Part 1, Labor & Economic Reform, Section 22, Encountering Poverty, Paragraph 44
I have also taken notice of your desire for poetry, but I must confess that I am not in the mood for waxing poetic. These modern hospitals are not quite fitting; they are too sterile, too mechanical; there are too many synthetic materials, too much plastic to be a good place for fostering passion. This corner is too quiet, too deadly quiet: a good place for writing - but not poetry; whether it be for my poetry or my prose, this hospital wing is too orderly; the rhythm here is too tired, too much going about one's business with a barely disguised reluctance. There's no way to wheedle any poetry out from these people. They are probably underpaid - but then again, I know nothing about British health care, and I'm not the sick one, so I won't complain. I don't think you want any elegies - although, when I look at Albert's quiet body: the once sturdy frame slowing sinking into itself - an elegy is all I can think of writing. But there is time for that.
– Title 3, Regarding a Dream, Chapter 1, The First Day, Part 1, Victory & Calendar Reform, Section 2, Poetics, Paragraph 5
Like a plantar wart on the sole of your foot, this feeling is a very common, and yet abnormal, proliferation of growth, caused by infection, which normally would be painless, and is, until it expands to a place of pressure, so that, with each step, it painfully flattens itself against the surface of your body and you can barely see it without careful examination.
– Title 2, Regarding the Romaniac, Part 1, Section 5, Warts, Paragraph 2, Clauses 3-4
A collection of stories featuring a sexy Parisian ghost, a spooky Moon base full of vagina-faced aliens, a policeman with an Irish name, a truck full of watermelons, a flautist, and a man who has to see another man about a diseased horse.
Davis was so shocked, she ran away without her clothes. Sammy D was mesmerized. Dorothea sat slouched on a tiny bench. Her hand lay between her hairy, outstretched legs. Her soft, sedimented breasts had run aground like Viking boats upon her belly. She could barely lift her head. Sammy D stepped inside. For the sake of modesty, she shut the curtain.
Gog had no strength left. He could barely hold his ground. Blood flooded around him. He thought of his beloved Mithra. She couldn't afford to wait. Gog threw himself into the torrent. He reached the dark recesses of the ear. His blade found a vital lobe. The beast's limbs fell numb. The entire creature, measuring twenty thousand paces [e.g. seven and a half miles], dropped to the ground.
Her breasts were bared. She wasn't wearing a tunic. Only the flimsy fabric of a friar's scapular covered the length of her body beneath her cloak. With her arms stretched back, two nodules of beautiful fat bulged from beyond her hems, settling under their own weight like egg white beaten to a soft peak, waiting to be folded into batter. The satin of her scapular suddenly sashayed across her nipples. It fell against the side of one breast. It squeezed itself into her cleavage. Pluck, I begged quietly to myself, the obnoxious apron out.
Perhaps flashing a badge in the midday sun blinded him, as Juanita later testified; perhaps he was frightened by Patsy's bare chest, as Patsy himself claimed. Regardless, he ran over the dunes, through the bush, across the main road, and right past the sign that said, "From this point on, you may encounter nude sunbathers."
Patsy, who had led the chase, stopped to catch his breath. Juanita was close behind. "God," he gasped, turning around, "I love it when you run."
A real play. With drama in it. Talk fast. It takes two hours. Set in a guest house. In a small community. After a murder. Lots of suspicion. The characters learn to listen to each other. It's funny.
(ALICE exits.)
GREY GOOSE: Alone at last.
KOKOMO: You've done your business: now leave.
GREY GOOSE: There's more. I need your help.
KOKOMO: Again?
GREY GOOSE: Yes.
KOKOMO: I'm not your little plaything.
GREY GOOSE: Do you want to be thrown out? I didn't think so. Come with me to the kitchen. I need those tender little hands.
KOKOMO: This is the last time, Grey Goose. You've made me sore from all your stupid amusements. I can barely even walk or lift a finger. I'm totally spent.
GREY GOOSE: Don't pretend you don't like it.
– ACT I, lines 852-860
MS. JACKSON: You must be falling asleep after such a long day.
FLETCHER: Mother.
LESBIAN: I can barely keep my eyes open.
FLETCHER: Excuse me.
MS. JACKSON: That's a problem.
LESBIAN: Why?
MS. JACKSON: The laundry's not done. I'll have to take fresh sheets from the sofa bed.
LESBIAN: Don't bother. I'll sleep in here for now.
MS. JACKSON: Are you sure?
LESBIAN: It'll only be for a nap.
– ACT II, lines 262-271
(GREY GOOSE and LUKE exit.)
MS. JACKSON: Barbarians.
ALICE: Some honeymoon: Luke spends more time with your husband than he does with me.
MS. JACKSON: He can have him. I do feel sorry for you, Alice.
ALICE: I don't mind. He makes up for it with other, more important qualities of manliness.
LESBIAN: Is he large?
ALICE: Yes.
MS. JACKSON: How large?
ALICE: Massive. I can barely take it.
LESBIAN: I don't know if I would like that.
– ACT I, lines 385-393
GREY GOOSE: No. You're a good kid. I know that. I only wish I could've been a better father.
FLETCHER: You were good enough.
GREY GOOSE: I wasn't.
FLETCHER: You only hit me - what? Once? I deserved it.
GREY GOOSE: I made it count.
FLETCHER: I barely felt it.
GREY GOOSE: Come on.
FLETCHER: It's better than what you had. I'm grateful.
A story book full of short fiction stories. An interesting bedtime mystery. A fairy tale. Science fiction romance. Adult life. Uninspiring gay fiction. Horror.
Proctor backed out of the bathroom. He looked at the window. There was a fire escape outside. It went up to the loft. Proctor went to look outside. He realized the window was unlocked. He locked it. He shut the curtain. He walked to the front door. He looked outside. The hallway was empty. Proctor tiptoed out. He tried to shut the door as quietly as he could. It wouldn't shut all the way. The frame was broken. Proctor left it. He started soft-shoeing his way down the hall. He could barely swallow his spit. There was a rock in his throat. The stairs seemed like they were getting farther and farther. He finally reached them. The stairwell was empty. He walked down the stairs. The lobby was empty. Proctor took a deep breath. He went outside. He waved to the policeman in the patrol car. He got to his own car. He drove off.
Steve, Peter and I wandered around for a while. We spotted Mary walking down the sidewalk. We didn't stop to say hello. We went to a bar. There was barely anyone there. A guy on the patio was seated with his dog. Steve was a dog owner. It gave him a reason to chat. I focused on the bar girl but not to my benefit.
My thoughts raced. What was going on? I imagined leaning over and kissing her. I shook my head. Why would I think that? I considered putting my hand on her knee. What for? Nonsense. I remembered how I grasped her bare buttocks. My God. What had I done?
"I saw the two of them down by the court," said the young woman. She was talking about Matt and Parker. She whispered, "I think they're doing it." Jessica puckered her mouth in excitement. She was grateful to be off the grindstone. Her beer-fueled dalliance with the old man fueled giggles and shakes of the head for days. She was the youngest counselor. Barely eighteen.
I considered mentioning Matt's condoms. I thought better of it.
I killed a cat. It was an accident. I was trying to cut its fur. I wanted to show Kelly the ugliness of a shaved pussy. I don't deserve two years of prison for it. Cruelty to animals is nothing next to how humans treat each other. They put me in the same prison I used to guard. At the very least I know which of these bitches aren't shaved. Those are the ones I can fuck. Even when I was a kid I couldn't stand a bare floor. All the blood stains and grime and guts on the linoleum in the kitchen. It was disgusting. It always curled up at the edges. Like Kelly's toes. As soon as I get out of here I'll find that girl. I'll get her the biggest razor I can find.
It's natural to hide dirty things. They're embarrassing. But we need to keep in mind that when we hide things that are difficult, we make them seem dirty when they're really something else entirely. And when we keep things that are easy in plain sight, we make them seem clean when they really aren't. That is dangerous.
Your purchases keep the "Bare Bottom Women" page up and running...
If you love women and art...
Michal is importing art...is he daffy?
Michal's Sales Pitch Lot 1: Silesian Handicrafts
T-shirt fundraiser for sale
Last T-Shirt with the logo that I designed.
From a set of, I believe, twenty produced by Margo and given out to a portion of the last 20 women to finish the 20th anniversary Fiat Road Race in Bielsko-Biała, cf. the movie. This is the last one left in it's original packaging and my supporters - like the poor women of Bielsko - are going to have to fight for it. Whoever invests the most money with me, and who lets me borrow it to invest in the next lot, will not only be rewarded with some beautiful piece of art, but will get this priceless t-shirt as a reward for being my top supporter. $1000.00 or best offer. Remember to authorize me to hold the sum as credit against a future purchase and to authorize me to borrow against it.
To purchase please mail a USPS money order in an envelope clearly marked Lot #1/Item #1 to M. Slaby at house number 201 on Ridge Road in the town of West Milford, in the state of New Jersey, one of the beautiful United States of America. The postal code is 07480-3112.
Felt handbag for sale
Felt bag by Dorota.
Entirely hand-sewn. Base: polyester felt, 100% PE. Motif: South American woolen yarn, dyed, 100% wool. Hand-worked with a needle. Unique and inimitable design. Inside: cotton fabric, closes with zipper, inside pocket. Available now for $220.00. Ships free of additional charge via USPS (uninsured) unless otherwise directed.
To purchase please mail a USPS money order in an envelope clearly marked Lot #1/Item #2 to M. Slaby at house number 201 on Ridge Road in the town of West Milford, in the state of New Jersey, one of the beautiful United States of America. The postal code is 07480-3112.
Decorative collar for sale
Decorative collar by Zuzanna.
Ethnic layered cloth jewelry constructed on a cotton base and adorned with ribbons, tassels, and a yellow fringe. Fastened on the side with 11 buttons, fitted entirely with a pleasant lining. The style is an Indo-Asian-African multinational color combination. The collar is very extravagant and an extraordinary addition to any clothing, guaranteed to attract attention. Just a simple dress and a unique image is ready. Dry-cleaning recommended. Available now for $200.00. Ships free of additional charge via USPS (uninsured) unless otherwise directed.
To purchase please mail a USPS money order in an envelope clearly marked Lot #1/Item #3 to M. Slaby at house number 201 on Ridge Road in the town of West Milford, in the state of New Jersey, one of the beautiful United States of America. The postal code is 07480-3112.
Seamless handbag for sale
Handbag by Sylwia.
Handmade from felted all-natural Australian and South American wool. Entirely felted, seamless. Finished with a white lining, inside is a small pocket. Lining is sewn and stitched in by hand. Available now for $180.00. Ships free of additional charge via USPS (uninsured) unless otherwise directed.
To purchase please mail a USPS money order in an envelope clearly marked Lot #1/Item #4 to M. Slaby at house number 201 on Ridge Road in the town of West Milford, in the state of New Jersey, one of the beautiful United States of America. The postal code is 07480-3112.
Patchwork quilt for sale
Patchwork quilt by Alicja.
Bedspread made of cotton and polyester material. Inserted with polyester lining. 90 by 70 cm. Available now for $120.00. Ships free of additional charge via USPS (uninsured) unless otherwise directed.
To purchase please mail a USPS money order in an envelope clearly marked Lot #1/Item #5 to M. Slaby at house number 201 on Ridge Road in the town of West Milford, in the state of New Jersey, one of the beautiful United States of America. The postal code is 07480-3112.
Nuno-felt shawl for sale
Shawl by Sylwia.
Scarf made with the nuno felting technique (wet felting fibre into a silk gauze) using South American wool. Two-sided scarf with latticework at the ends. Wholly in the colors red, black, green in an abstract pattern. Available now for $100.00. Ships free of additional charge via USPS (uninsured) unless otherwise directed.
To purchase please mail a USPS money order in an envelope clearly marked Lot #1/Item #6 to M. Slaby at house number 201 on Ridge Road in the town of West Milford, in the state of New Jersey, one of the beautiful United States of America. The postal code is 07480-3112.
Clara the doll for sale
Clara by Alicja.
Clara loves roses and greenery, adores tormenting spiders with long legs and sleeping soundly in the afternoon. Cuddly toy made of cotton and polyester, stuffed with polyester lining. Available now for $70.00. Ships free of additional charge via USPS (uninsured) unless otherwise directed.
To purchase please mail a USPS money order in an envelope clearly marked Lot #1/Item #7 to M. Slaby at house number 201 on Ridge Road in the town of West Milford, in the state of New Jersey, one of the beautiful United States of America. The postal code is 07480-3112.
Noah the doll for sale
Noah by Alicja.
Noah doesn't know what to like and what not to like but keeps wondering and thinking about it. Cuddly toy made of cotton and polyester, stuffed with polyester lining. Available now for $70.00. Ships free of additional charge via USPS (uninsured) unless otherwise directed.
To purchase please mail a USPS money order in an envelope clearly marked Lot #1/Item #8 to M. Slaby at house number 201 on Ridge Road in the town of West Milford, in the state of New Jersey, one of the beautiful United States of America. The postal code is 07480-3112.
Black suspenders for sale
Black suspenders by Zuzanna.
Two-sided suspenders from black material with a rose motif on one side and striped cotton on the other. Connected by a leather triangle. Adjustable length. Hand washing in cold water recommended. Available now for $50.00. Ships free of additional charge via USPS (uninsured) unless otherwise directed.
To purchase please mail a USPS money order in an envelope clearly marked Lot #1/Item #9 to M. Slaby at house number 201 on Ridge Road in the town of West Milford, in the state of New Jersey, one of the beautiful United States of America. The postal code is 07480-3112.
Orange suspenders for sale
Orange suspenders by Zuzanna.
Two-sided suspenders made of denim and orange material with a Polish floral folk design. Connected by a leather triangle. Adjustable length. Hand washing in cold water recommended. Available now for $50.00. Ships free of additional charge via USPS (uninsured) unless otherwise directed.
To purchase please mail a USPS money order in an envelope clearly marked Lot #1/Item #10 to M. Slaby at house number 201 on Ridge Road in the town of West Milford, in the state of New Jersey, one of the beautiful United States of America. The postal code is 07480-3112.
Green suspenders for sale
Green suspenders by Zuzanna.
Two-sided suspenders made of denim and green material with a mountain folk design. Connected by a leather triangle. Adjustable length. Hand washing in cold water recommended. Available now for $50.00. Ships free of additional charge via USPS (uninsured) unless otherwise directed.
To purchase please mail a USPS money order in an envelope clearly marked Lot #1/Item #11 to M. Slaby at house number 201 on Ridge Road in the town of West Milford, in the state of New Jersey, one of the beautiful United States of America. The postal code is 07480-3112.
Felt earrings for sale
Felt earrings by Dorota.
Material: South American woolen yarn, dyed, 100% wool. Hand-worked with a needle. Pendant of anti-allergenic metal. Available now for $40.00. Ships free of additional charge via USPS (uninsured) unless otherwise directed.
To purchase please mail a USPS money order in an envelope clearly marked Lot #1/Item #12 to M. Slaby at house number 201 on Ridge Road in the town of West Milford, in the state of New Jersey, one of the beautiful United States of America. The postal code is 07480-3112.
Round ceramic earrings for sale
Round ceramic earrings by Dorota.
Material: Glazed ceramics, hand-molded. Available now for $40.00. Ships free of additional charge via USPS (uninsured) unless otherwise directed.
To purchase please mail a USPS money order in an envelope clearly marked Lot #1/Item #13 to M. Slaby at house number 201 on Ridge Road in the town of West Milford, in the state of New Jersey, one of the beautiful United States of America. The postal code is 07480-3112.
Oblong ceramic earrings for sale
Oblong ceramic earrings by Dorota.
Material: Glazed ceramics, hand-molded. Available now for $40.00. Ships free of additional charge via USPS (uninsured) unless otherwise directed.
To purchase please mail a USPS money order in an envelope clearly marked Lot #1/Item #14 to M. Slaby at house number 201 on Ridge Road in the town of West Milford, in the state of New Jersey, one of the beautiful United States of America. The postal code is 07480-3112.
'Coral' necklace for sale
Corals by Sylwia.
Necklace made of cotton pieces with organdy and decorated with beads, suspended on cotton strings. Can be worn as a necklace, as a brooch or as a belt tied at the side. Available now for $40.00. Ships free of additional charge via USPS (uninsured) unless otherwise directed.
To purchase please mail a USPS money order in an envelope clearly marked Lot #1/Item #15 to M. Slaby at house number 201 on Ridge Road in the town of West Milford, in the state of New Jersey, one of the beautiful United States of America. The postal code is 07480-3112.
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