(Written on January, 2019)
According to my fragmented memories, the first time I saw a bracelet was in my grandparents’ old house. I could not remember correctly that maybe I was around 2 or 3 years old. When my father brought me to the grandparents’ house, I saw grandfather was sitting beside the fire and using a stick-like tool, making something. He looked earnest about what he was doing. Several days after, he presented me with the most beautiful bracelet I had ever seen. It was a silver ring with two knots where the size could be adjusted. There were charms, which like small bells, on the bracelet. When my father took me outside, he put the bracelet on my arm. I still remember those crisp clanging sounds made by the charms when I moved my hand. When I looked closely, there was a small stone inside each charm, which is what caused the sound. Even after all of these years, I still wonder how my grandfather put that little stone into those charms. Years later, I noticed if I shake the charm when I hold it in my hand, it didn’t make a loud sound, but when I allow it to shake it without any touch freely, the sound was loud and crisp.
I was too young to appreciate its significance. I was told years later that the most exciting part about the bracelet was how it was made. During those years, before I was born, in China, resources were scarce. The government had banned activities, including making jewelry. Hence, it was illegal to make jewelry privately between the 1960s to the 1980s. Besides, my grandparents were poor farmers, and they could not afford to buy jewelry. For survival, My grandfather gathered materials and made jewelry for others secretly. The government lifted the ban in the 1990s, and making jewelry was not illegal anymore. My grandfather was able to make silversmith as his part-time vocation at that time. Therefore, I believe that silver bracelet was the best gift that my grandfather could have ever given to me.
As the years went by, I forgot that bracelet as it had been put away for safekeeping. My next memory is at a time when I was eight years old. Each day at noon, when I went home from school for lunch, there was always a street vendor standing in front of the school and selling bracelets she had made. I was so fascinated by the bracelets the moment I first saw them. She made the bracelets with intricate strings in different colors and textiles. Besides bracelets, she also made other small items, such as little slipper, frog, flower, and dragonfly with plastic strings. I spent a lot of time looking deep into those original items, and wondering how she intertwined those strings into three-dimensional objects. I had saved all of the pocket money my mom gave me and bought many bracelets and small items from her.
Both moments were significant, but the first moment I saw the street vendor’s merchandise was the moment that I realized I could create things and display for others to see. I started buying books and materials to help foster this passion. I spent weeks looking at designs of bracelets and started to follow the steps. I still remember the difficulty I had in following the steps in the book. The illustrations were shown in flat pictures, and the operation of flip or insert strings were presented by using arrows. Therefore, there were always some trials and errors in each step during the process of making.
I, like my grandfather, made bracelets secretly in my room, because I knew my parents would not permit what I did as they always wanted me to focus on my studies. My parents would always tell me the only things I should be focused on were school assignments and exams. I remember late one night when I thought my parents had gone to sleep. I pulled out my materials and quietly sat working on the bracelets. I did not realize that my mother was not asleep, and she would find out what I was doing. She was so angry in a way that I had never seen her before, and then she grabbed the bracelets I was working on, lit it on fire, and threw it outside off the balcony. I cried so hard that night, and I was afraid of doing anything secret for a long time. To this day, I still remember what kind of knot I was making for that never finished bracelet. I felt crushed and defeated. Not only was my work of art destroyed, but I could feel the crushing of my creative spirit.
That feeling stayed with me for a long time. After I entered college, I saw something that reminded me of the fascination that little 8-year-old girl experienced when she saw that street vendor. So, I decided to buy some tutorial books and materials for making bracelets again. I tried to restart what I loved in my childhood, but I found my passion for making bracelets could not be ignited anymore. For a while, I thought I was no longer the person who loved hand making any longer. I felt as though maybe my mother was justified in stopping such childish nonsense. This feeling continued until last year when I came to New York. After experiencing a lot of cultural shocks, I attended Maker Faire and re-examined what I had experienced in my childhood. I realized that my talent and creativity in making things is my precious treasure. It was not burned that day and thrown off the balcony, and it was merely locked away until the right moment presented itself. A person’s creativity and eagerness of expression is not something that can be destroyed unless we do not allow ourselves the freedom to explore that side of us.