Michal's HeadlinesOil Painting

Michal presents 4Occupy, an online art gallery and culture blog

Bridging the 7 Pillars of Culture for All Mankind...click & drag the logo to share this page

The answer to your needs...

If you need a glaze hardener or binder...

A miniature portrait of MichalMichal Recommends:

VEEGUM(r) and VAN GEL(r)

natural clays by RT Vanderbilt

from VEEGUM(r)/VAN GEL(r) The Story
A map showing R.T. Vanderbilt's mines and processing plants in the western United Sates
Clay ores mined in Nevada, Arizona & California
Margo behind a tree

Oil Painting, a cultural reference

Understanding the world from all angles...

Help End Prejudice With Truth in ArtOne of Margo's pictures from our trip across Europe.

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...Pointer

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.

Though I felt fully formed as a writer, and had been trained in visual language, it was my first time with a professional camera in my hands. I was just learning the ins and outs and had come to Europe to find as diverse a selection of subject matter as possible, preferably something that fit my aesthetic devotion to promoting body acceptance. Enter Margo.

I was from America, land of the free...home of the brave. She carried the weight of Old Europe...domestic and religious poverties...stifled creativity. Anger. Sadness. Yearning.

There were times during our trip when I thought there might not be a happy ending. There were times when disaster was close and I wondered whether I hadn't made a mistake. I wondered whether fear, anger or sadness might triumph and one of us would have to finished the journey alone. Though I dangled from the cliffs of Normady I was saved. Though the lights went out I rode on. Though I ran the tires down to the wire I was okay. We drove home in one piece. We came home happy. We had started the process of learning how to listen and the sound of it was beautiful. We could be sure that we were ready to conquer the devils that abuse us no matter how long it would take.

One of Margo's pictures from our trip across Europe.

6,000 miles across Europe with a complete stranger

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Day 34
8/22/2011
 3༜25/24

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Koad Ar Roc'h

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Neant Sur Yvel, France

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THE DISAPPEARING WOMAN, THE DISAPPEARING MAN...Pointer

a collection of modern art prints and posters

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:
Oil Painting

Each successive pillar of culture is built upon the previous one. Just as you cannot have Saturday without Friday, you cannot have a strong military without successful children. You can't have successful children without good science. Proper science requires a strong and confident body politic to accept its conclusions. A strong body politic, a peaceful assembly, is made up of strong families. A family is built upon labor. Labor is guided by art.

Good art is a good idea well expressed. A victory over oblivion. Carry that thought down the line. Efficient labor sows the fruit of capitalism. The members of a loving family pray to each other. A just constitution keeps the assembly focused. Science studies movement. Education inspires children. Children grow strong and defend our freedom. Democracy thrives.

Our problem is not that we lack a strong army or smart teachers or scientists or political dialogue or money or prayer. Our probem is that nothing ties it together. Our culture is unraveling. We have business executives who only care about the bottom line. We have church leaders who only care about the good name of the church. We have politicians who only care about getting re-elected. We have artists who only care about their self-expression.

Our pillars of culture have climbed quite high. Yet there's nothing but hot air at the top. There's no roof over our heads. We're exposed. Either nobody taught the people at the top to listen to each other or the only way to get to the top is by not listening. Don't say nobody taught us how. Whenever people try we crucify them. That has to change. We need to accept the fact that we are building this church of Man together and it needs a roof.

We need to bridge the pillars of culture.

Pronunciation of Oil PaintingMargo on a trampoline

I have yet to publish a pronunciation for the words "oil painting."

Video of me pronouncing "oil painting."

Definition of Oil PaintingMargo on a trampoline

I have yet to publish the definition of Oil Painting.

I'm sure it won't take too long.

References for oil paintingMargo on a trampoline

  • I have yet to find good references for Oil Painting

     

Samples of Fiction from Michal's CorpusMargo on a trampoline

An image of young Michal sitting on a potty in front of a typewriter

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.

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Samples of Fiction from Death to McDonalds

An aerial view of Dodger Stadium in the foreground, with an imaginary partially submerged Los Angeles behind

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 #5291

i wish i had a toothbrush. im also getting low on toilet paper. i think its time somebody came to pick me up. ive had enough adventure.

Sprint "Iphone" Case

15 November, 4:40 PM

Frame #1655

i wish i had one of those minipods with a buttwarmer and a built in toilet. my mother has one. she brags about it all the time.

Justin Bieber

14 August, 1:18 AM

Frame #589

i dont know whose name to call. i wonder if jack fantasizes about me being with his boss. he hates him. or the president of bellflower oil.

Expedia Cheap-Flights

1 August, 10:25 PM

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Samples of Fiction from The Gospel of Jesus H.

A picture of the planet Mars

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.

"Now they're going to have to kill it," I said. "That's the rule of the hunt." The cold air blew dusty American soil into my face. "That's the rule of the hunt."

Verse 58 from the chapter called Bohemia

Those were not laughing days, child. In those days, there was much hardship. Sixty-eight years before I was born, Yellowstone exploded. Five thousand cubic kilometers of boiling magma came to blanket the Earth, kill mankind, terrorize his animals, and fell his favorite trees. Earth bled, and the sky grew dark. It rained blackness. The whole planet stank like a struck match: burning brimstone, like the Bible says - in other words, black clouds of sulfur: they came to suffocate, incinerate. In faraway places, water turned to steam: it boiled. Volcanic ash came tumbling down. The wind blew steam and hot rock. Millions died; the rest wept black tears.

Verse 72 from the chapter called Childhood

So we stopped at the warehouse where your father's uncle bought some clothes by the scale. He bought enough clothes to fill twenty trash bags. Throwing about five trash bags into the back seat, he was able to fit five more into the trunk. Getting into the car, we placed all the other trash bags between our legs, underneath them and on our laps, beside ourselves, behind our backs and our heads, on either side, piling them underneath our arms and above them, squeezing them into our crotches, filling the pits of our knees and arms, making stacks that came up to our noses and our asses. They were not comfortable. They were plastic bags. They were black: they absorbed the midday sun. They made us hot and sweaty. They stuck to our skin. These plastic trash bags full of clothing stuck to our skin. It was disgusting. They smelled. It was like being poached in oil with sweet and sour pepper. The clothes were spilling out. Somebody would wear this filthy shirt squeezing out of my crotch. It was disgusting. There were balls of nylon stocking squeezing themselves into my ass. When we turned into a back alley and stopped, I was grateful.

"Is this the store?" I asked.

Verses 175-176 from the chapter called Adolescence

In those days, people didn't trust any central government. Americans didn't trust Washington. The Poles didn't trust Warsaw or Washington. Why should they have? They were fake cities, made by fiat. Nobody wanted to live there. Washington, D.C. had a foggy bottom; Warsaw had the worst soil around - what a perfect place for a capital! Berlin was a backwater town. What made them great? Power! Resources coordinated! Levée en masse! The spoils of war! Nothing else: they would still be villages. They are the most unnatural monsters ever created. People felt it. One by one, they started to wonder: why doesn't Washington, D.C. worry more about Washington, D.C.? Why doesn't Warsaw worry about Warsaw? What gives them the right to worry about everybody else? Why do we have capitals?

Verse 86 from the chapter called Childhood

Jesus's seat in the Presidium, with or without the rank of Brigadier General, had been guaranteed by the fact that so many people (that is, members of Jesus's Confederation) had contributed so much (that is, the rest of the laundered money from the vaults of Tokyo-Mitsubishi Ginko) to Jesus's personal war chest, with which he had raised his private armored brigade of Lower Silesian riflemen, who were only Lower Silesian in name. Jesus had accepted volunteers from all across Europe: women and men who were drawn by Jesus's personality, who were talented, who didn't have anything against the Church, who desired glory and riches, power and the thrills of battle, who wanted to wage war against whatever the hell it was on Mars, be it Revolution or tyranny or misbegotten government, and who didn't want to taste the fact that they were fighting for oil interests as they gobbled up whatever the hell it was that they were going to have for themselves. Jesus knew what it was that they all wanted. They all wanted what everyone knew - or, at least, believed - that Mars had to offer: a large piece of the richest pie. They didn't realize that Mars had abandoned itself to the outer edge of the inner solar system for a very good reason (and the pie had long since cooled).

Verse 63 from the chapter called Vows

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Samples of Fiction from Sex for Children

A drawing of a man between a woman's legs in front of another man in a hospital bed

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.

'Ah, but who did they walk with?' she asked. I didn't know. But she told me they walked with Hungarians, that poodles were old Hungarian hunting dogs, that we brought them out from Asia. Well, I told this gypsy woman I was glad we weren't the ones who spoiled them. But she said, 'Ah, but you are to blame. You let them go.' And I asked her why would we do such a thing. And she said, 'Because the poodle did not follow the master - but only the mistress. And you were jealous of them. So you cast the dogs out; and all because she' - pointing to Indiana - 'she has the same spirit as the dog. They are both beautiful creatures. They are loyal and skillful. But watch out! because they are smart, and they are also very willful.'

– Title 3, Regarding a Dream, Chapter 1, The First Day, Part 1, Victory & Calendar Reform, Section 8, Financial Instruments, Paragraph 20, Clauses 11-24

We stood there for a very long second, I pointing, my body huddled together by the recoil of the pounce, my head back, face stretched with the promise of amusement, eyebrows lifting, eyes wide, my mouth still in its open smile. We were very close, and despite the fact that he looked nothing like Luke, looked much better in fact, it took me surprisingly long to bring myself to awareness. In that very long second, I took in the sharp lines of the boy's face, the symmetrically modest nose, the tender growth of a few days' neglected shaving, and yes, in that sense he did resemble Macy, but I was not aware of that, nor of the implications, and only near the end of that very long second did I begin to realize I was absurdly positioned and in no way ready to explain my behavior.

– Title 1, Regarding Peaches and Bananas, Part 2, Section 3, Ambushing a Man, Paragraph 2, Clauses 3-6

The bathroom was much less filthy, and this, I thought, could only mean one thing: Luke probably had not been taking advantage of it - but I'm sure that you could think of other, equally plausible theories. Enough about Luke; I refrained from cleaning his bathroom - let's leave it at that. Letting the shower run, I washed out my mouth and sat down on the toilet.

– Title 1, Regarding Peaches and Bananas, Part 2, Section 2, Letting It Steam, Paragraph 2, Clauses 1-3

Macy had adopted a very serious demeanor; leaning back on the couch across from me, the distance between us now unfathomable, I knew, even from the corner of my failing eye, that the tension on his face was betraying the turmoil of his body. My head turned itself back to his, and with my twitching eye under his control, a feeling of dread began to well in my stomach; I wondered what I had done. As he said my name, twice, softly and slowly, he lifted himself and said, "I have always loved you, always - from the very beginning. I stressed and sweated my love, hoping that our friendship would somehow in someway, in whatever context, allow me to say that I loved you. But you were always too careful, and I was too afraid to risk our relationship. You were too precious." These were not his exact words mind you. I paraphrase for the sake of poetic brevity, but I do assure you that my reconstruction captures the essence of his speech.

– Title 1, Regarding Peaches and Bananas, Part 2, Section 7, Trying to Kiss, Paragraph 8

BERT: I take off the cape. I thread the cord around here - this is new, by the way, you've never seen this before - I go through these loops. I place the hat in the center here: put it right there. Yes, that's right. And then I pull the cord together, pull down the fabric and voila! Instead of a cape and a hat, I now have a shaped purse.

ANDY: Wow, that's ingenious. Where did you get it?

– Title 3, Regarding a Dream, Chapter 1, The First Day, Part 1, Victory & Calendar Reform, Section 10, Polyandry, Paragraphs 15-16

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Samples of Fiction from Tsiga Tsiga Tsiga

Bullets whizzing by a statue of Nikola Tesla

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.

"She is spoiled," he thought to himself. There were no glass windows at his cousin's hut, where he decided to throw his boots. Nor were there any at his father's house. Relatively speaking, it was not insubstantial. Situated on the outskirts of town, it had its own stable in front and a wide garden behind.

– from “Italy Sucks and Has Sucked For A Long Time,” an adventure story featuring a frank discussion of people's pettiness

Tatum walked briskly. Her heels clicked against the tiles. The sound echoed throughout the dark building. Tatum realized it was sunset. By the time she passed the last partition, she could barely make out the sign of the black trefoil in front of her.

She turned. Her heels snapped on the tiles. A figure, half-submerged, leaned against the far wall.

– from “Dirty Manga People Are Disgusting,” a spooky story featuring weird aliens who live on the dark side of the moon

As fate would have it, the Asian-Australian had a thing for high-society debutantes. In Junior's book, they defined ordinary. For a professional like Sammy D, they were a welcome change of pace-a challenge-a soft pie hiding behind a thick upper crust, no doubt spoiled by daddy's love, in need of mommy's punishment. The sight of a stern woman in boots, breeches, riding jacket and helmet was making the hussy sweat.

– from “A Horse Named Clutch Bag,” an inspiring story featuring hypocrisy of the worst kind

The day came to attempt their first heist. Shephard couldn't be there. He had to give himself an alibi. He made arrangements for "Coke" to wait for his call at the hotel lobby. He left Pepsi's car along the desert highway with a flat. He hitched a ride to the gas station with a stranger. Before heading to the telephone, Shephard stopped by the restroom. Of the two stalls, one was taken. The other was soiled. Shephard wiped the seat as well as he could. He turned. He dropped his pants. He sat. The man next door was wearing expensive shoes. They looked familiar. Shephard chuckled. He said, "Nice shoes."

– from “Two Dudes and a Chinese Desert,” a friendship story featuring two very thirsty dudes

Shephard was barely able to shake his head. He whispered, "I don't think so."

"I mean the convenience store."

"No," said Shephard. "It was there before."

– from “Two Dudes and a Chinese Desert,” a friendship story featuring the theft of one barrel of oil a day

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Samples of Fiction from Sorry Ms. Jackson

Chiseled letters from an ancient stone tablet hanging on a wall

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.

LUKE: Good question.

FLETCHER: You'd better think it over. There's nothing like a walkabout to clear one's mind.

LUKE: That's the good oil. Fletch: you're a hell of an offsider.

FLETCHER: Thanks. Listen: if you do decide on doing some business, here's the procedure. Do you see that music box? It's the only thing from the family hut that survived the fire. Once it's opened, it will play a tune. Put the money inside. Kokomo will know what to do. She'll thank you for it.

LUKE: It'll have been my pleasure.

FLETCHER: Enjoy your walk.

(LUKE exits.)

– ACT I, lines 791-796

(GREY GOOSE and KOKOMO exit in a rush. MS. JACKSON and LESBIAN enter in a rush.)

MS. JACKSON: Oh, that takes my breath away. Do you think he saw us?

LESBIAN: I don't think so.

MS. JACKSON: He could've turned. We have to watch out.

LESBIAN: Why?

MS. JACKSON: My son is an expert tracker.

LESBIAN: How is that possible? What's there to track on Norfolk?

MS. JACKSON: Nothing - unless it's human.

LESBIAN: He takes after his old man.

MS. JACKSON: Don't mention him. You'll spoil my mood.

– ACT I, lines 880-888

(MS. JACKSON and LESBIAN exit. FLETCHER enters with a towel and massage oil, followed by ALICE)

FLETCHER: Sweet almond: not a bad choice: generic but effective.

ALICE: I'm not the fancy type.

FLETCHER: Yarrow is definitely good for inflammation.

ALICE: You're just bitter I didn't pick the ylang-ylang.

FLETCHER: I am bitter - not surprised. You don't need an aphrodisiac.

ALICE: Are you that good?

FLETCHER: I meant for my sake.

– ACT I, lines 546-552

ALICE: How old were they?

FLETCHER: Seven.

MS. JACKSON: You're taking after your father.

FLETCHER: Father never worried about getting himself extorted. Everybody already seemed to know whom he was - what's the word?

ALICE: Rooting.

FLETCHER: Thank you, Alice. Rooting.

LUKE: We're gonna have you speakin' Strine before we leave.

FLETCHER: With wowsers like my mother, it won't be enough.

MS. JACKSON: What, may I ask, is a wowser?

LUKE: A spoilsport.

– ACT I, lines 127-136

(ALICE grimaces and rubs her neck again.)

FLETCHER: You really did strain it.

ALICE: It's fine.

FLETCHER: It's not. Come on. Kokomo has a bunch of differently scented oils. You can have your pick.

ALICE: It seems you've got me at your mercy.

FLETCHER: You won't regret it - neither will your neck.

ALICE: We'll see.

FLETCHER: You're welcome. It's too bad Kokomo's not here. She's the expert.

ALICE: Where is she?

FLETCHER: Who knows?

– ACT I, lines 487-495

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Samples of Fiction from Miscellaneous Dingbats

The title of the book at the end of a string of miscellaneous dingbats

A story book full of short fiction stories. An interesting bedtime mystery. A fairy tale. Science fiction romance. Adult life. Uninspiring gay fiction. Horror.

I'm not angry. My wife is a sensitive person. I understand that. I'm counting on it. Eventually my wife's sense of smell and her lust and perhaps even her sense of justice will overcome her sense of pride.

– from “The Backed-Up Toilet,” a literature story based on somebody's real life, namely the author's

An ocean drifts below. A distant shore brings towers of glass and steel. Workers perched atop unfinished spires beam proud industrious smiles. These are the spoils of victory. My comrade and I drift to the ground. We find nothing to celebrate.

– from “Shovels Fall,” an interesting story about the cycle of armed struggle throughout history

I hate the English language. It's too curt. Rape. Suck. Lick. Bitch. Fuck. You. If the words had more syllables they wouldn't be so forceful. Deflowerment. Inhalation. Female Dog. Copulating. Those words don't inflame people's passions.

– from “The Backed-Up Toilet,” a literature story based on something that actually happened, namely to the author

I told my wife what happened. My mother was going for the laptop. In my lap. To find an imaginary email. I told her to wait until I was done browsing the internet. When I was done I tried to shut the laptop. Its my fathers laptop. Password protected.

– from “The Backed-Up Toilet,” a literature story based on somebody's real life, namely the author's

I've never raped a woman. I would never want to. Not sexually. I told my wife once I wanted to rape her. That comment needs to be taken in context. We were at an art gallery. We were looking at a picture of the Sabine women.

– from “The Backed-Up Toilet,” a literature story based on true experiences as I remember them

Love is the answer...

What are we waiting for? Let's accept it!

Are you a eunuch?

The art show that defies abuse

Still Life, Patriarchy

Contemporary wall art to remind us that Father always says Father knows best

To promote democracy, the strong must empty themselves of their strength. The weak must be granted the opportunity to grow strong. We cannot force the end of patriarchy. To do so simply perpetuates feudalism under a different name.

A miniature portrait of MichalMargo at the beach

Your support keeps the "Oil Painting" page...

If you love women and art...

Michal's exporting art from Poland...is he batty?

Michal's Sales Pitch
Lot 1: Silesian Handicrafts

  1. T-shirt fundraiser for sale

    Handcrafted t-shirt fundraiser for sale.

    Last T-Shirt with the logo that I designed. Pointer

    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.

  2. Felt handbag for sale

    Handcrafted felt handbag for sale.

    Felt bag by Dorota. Pointer

    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.

  3. Decorative collar for sale

    Handcrafted decorative collar for sale.

    Decorative collar by Zuzanna. Pointer

    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.

  4. Seamless handbag for sale

    Handcrafted seamless handbag for sale.

    Handbag by Sylwia. Pointer

    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.

  5. Patchwork quilt for sale

    Handcrafted patchwork quilt for sale.

    Patchwork quilt by Alicja. Pointer

    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.

  6. Nuno-felt shawl for sale

    Handcrafted nuno-felt shawl for sale.

    Shawl by Sylwia. Pointer

    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.

  7. Clara the doll for sale

    Handcrafted clara the doll for sale.

    Clara by Alicja. Pointer

    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.

  8. Noah the doll for sale

    Handcrafted noah the doll for sale.

    Noah by Alicja. Pointer

    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.

  9. Black suspenders for sale

    Handcrafted black suspenders for sale.

    Black suspenders by Zuzanna. Pointer

    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.

  10. Orange suspenders for sale

    Handcrafted orange suspenders for sale.

    Orange suspenders by Zuzanna. Pointer

    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.

  11. Green suspenders for sale

    Handcrafted green suspenders for sale.

    Green suspenders by Zuzanna. Pointer

    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.

  12. Felt earrings for sale

    Handcrafted felt earrings for sale.

    Felt earrings by Dorota. Pointer

    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.

  13. Round ceramic earrings for sale

    Handcrafted round ceramic earrings for sale.

    Round ceramic earrings by Dorota. Pointer

    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.

  14. Oblong ceramic earrings for sale

    Handcrafted oblong ceramic earrings for sale.

    Oblong ceramic earrings by Dorota. Pointer

    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.

  15. 'Coral' necklace for sale

    Handcrafted 'coral' necklace for sale.

    Corals by Sylwia. Pointer

    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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