Elisabeth Malkin writes about a new breed of gold prospector: geologists and engineers, armed with sophisticated equipment and millions in investor dollars + other viewpoints @ http://www.iht.com/articles/2008/02/18/business/gold.php
Useful links:
www.imdex.com
www.diabras.com
www.paramountgold.com
Thursday, February 21, 2008
Great Ideas In Psychology
Great Ideas in Psychology: A Cultural and Historical Introduction by Fathali M. Moghaddam is an excellent book on group thinking + I liked it.
Diamond Update
A 101.27-carat stone, the biggest colorless diamond to appear at auction for 20 years, will be sold at the Hong Kong branch of Christie's auction house on May 28, 2008 (the diamond was found at the Premier diamond mine in South Africa, and is being sold by a Europe-based diamond trading company) + expect pleasant surprises!
Useful link:
www.christies.com
Useful link:
www.christies.com
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
Dangerous Destinations
(via Forbes) In Pictures: World's Most Dangerous Destinations.
Useful links:
www.ijet.com
www.control-risks.com
I think the info should be useful for gemstone and art dealers who travel frequently to find what they like + certain threats are more frequent now than they have been so you should do your homework and do the right thing.
Useful links:
www.ijet.com
www.control-risks.com
I think the info should be useful for gemstone and art dealers who travel frequently to find what they like + certain threats are more frequent now than they have been so you should do your homework and do the right thing.
The Russian Connection
I found the gold tie clip in the form of a Russian Kalashnikov assault rifle (Junwex, in St Petersburg) @ http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/2008/feb/19/russia very interesting + I liked it.
Jewelers Of The Seventeenth Century
(via 5000 Years of Gems and Jewelry) Frances Rogers and Alice Beard writes:
3. The Twelve Mazarins
For some years after young Louis XIV became King of France the diamond cutters of Paris found themselves struggling against heavy odds. For one thing, many Parisians, instead of patroniziing the home jeweler, turned to Amsterdam, where they could buy the finest stones of Golconda, cut in the latest mode, the rose.
Possibly it was with an eye to stimulating interest in the work of French gem cutters that at this time it was decided to refashion twelve of the thickest diamonds in the royal crown. At any rate, under the direction of Cardinal Mazarin the twelve stones were recut according to a new form specially invented for the occasion. Whether or not the Cardinal himself actually did invent the new cutting is a question, but he is usually credited with having done so.
The twelve stones were named for him—The Twelve Mazarins. All we know of their ultimate fate is that in an inventory of the crown jewels of France, dated 1774, there is one diamond listed as ‘The Tenth Mazarin.’ According to the late E W Streeter, leading English authority on gems that ‘tenth Mazarin’ was a ‘four-cornered brilliant.’
The typical brilliant-cut, however, was not invented until the close of the century.
After the Court of Louis XIV had developed into the most magnificent in Europe, the Paris jewelers were top of the wave. Many of them were quartered in the Louvre. They led the fashion in jewelry and their designs became international through the publication of engraved patterns, ready for copying by goldsmiths at large.
Luxury and more luxury was called for by the dazzling monarch. When the noblemen of France or Spain appeared before his super-royal eyes, Louis demanded that they and their wives should carry upon their persons fortunes equal to ‘the value of lands and forests’ in the form of glittering gems. The great mirrors of the famous Galérie des Glaces must have reflected a brilliant galaxy of elegant gentlemen and their still more elegant ladies clad in silks, satins, and laces, all a-sparkle like Christmas trees.
Jewelers Of The Seventeenth Century (continued)
3. The Twelve Mazarins
For some years after young Louis XIV became King of France the diamond cutters of Paris found themselves struggling against heavy odds. For one thing, many Parisians, instead of patroniziing the home jeweler, turned to Amsterdam, where they could buy the finest stones of Golconda, cut in the latest mode, the rose.
Possibly it was with an eye to stimulating interest in the work of French gem cutters that at this time it was decided to refashion twelve of the thickest diamonds in the royal crown. At any rate, under the direction of Cardinal Mazarin the twelve stones were recut according to a new form specially invented for the occasion. Whether or not the Cardinal himself actually did invent the new cutting is a question, but he is usually credited with having done so.
The twelve stones were named for him—The Twelve Mazarins. All we know of their ultimate fate is that in an inventory of the crown jewels of France, dated 1774, there is one diamond listed as ‘The Tenth Mazarin.’ According to the late E W Streeter, leading English authority on gems that ‘tenth Mazarin’ was a ‘four-cornered brilliant.’
The typical brilliant-cut, however, was not invented until the close of the century.
After the Court of Louis XIV had developed into the most magnificent in Europe, the Paris jewelers were top of the wave. Many of them were quartered in the Louvre. They led the fashion in jewelry and their designs became international through the publication of engraved patterns, ready for copying by goldsmiths at large.
Luxury and more luxury was called for by the dazzling monarch. When the noblemen of France or Spain appeared before his super-royal eyes, Louis demanded that they and their wives should carry upon their persons fortunes equal to ‘the value of lands and forests’ in the form of glittering gems. The great mirrors of the famous Galérie des Glaces must have reflected a brilliant galaxy of elegant gentlemen and their still more elegant ladies clad in silks, satins, and laces, all a-sparkle like Christmas trees.
Jewelers Of The Seventeenth Century (continued)
Natural Landscape
(via The Outline of Art) William Orpen writes:
For example, in the ‘Sketch for the Leaping Horse,’ the bent willow is to the right of the horse and its rider, as it doubtless was in the scene that Constable actually beheld; but in the picture of ‘The Leaping Horse in the Diploma Gallery of the Royal Academy, the tree is shifted to the other side of the horse and rider, more to your left, in order to improve the design and emphasise the rhythm of the diagonal accents from the big tree on our left to the waterweeds in the opposite lower corner. This transposition of the willowtree is exceedingly instructive, for it proves that Constable did not, as some have maintained, simply paint ‘snapshots’ of Nature; he understood the science of picture making as well as any artist, and while desirous above all of presenting the general truth of the scene before him, he did not scruple to alter the position of one particular tree or other object if thereby he thought he could improve the composition of his picture.
Constable was now fifty, but still he was only an A.R.A. Neither ‘The Leaping Horse’ nor ‘The Cornfield’, which he exhibited in 1826, moved his brother artists to make him an Academician, and though ‘The Cornfield attracted a good deal of attention and was one of the first pictures to make Constable talked about in London, it did not sell, but remained in his possession to the day of his death. There would seem to be no denying that to the end of a number of Academicians were unable to appreciate the genius of Constable, and after the death of Joseph Farington in 1821 he had no keen admirer with influence within their ranks. The story is told that one year, after he had at last been elected R.A in 1829, Constable submitted one of his works labelled with another name to the Academy jury. When the majority had voted for its rejection, Constable admitted his authorship and quietly remarked, ‘There, gentlemen, I always thought you did not like my style of painting.’
When official recognition came it was ‘too late,’ as Constable sady said. Fortunately he was not in want, for in 1828 his wife’s father had died and left Constable the sum of £20000. ‘This,’ wrote Constable, ‘I will settle on my wife and children, and I shall then be able to stand before a six-foot canvas with a mind at ease, thank God!’ From this exclamation it would certainly appear as if the painter himself took more pleasure in his six-foot sketch than in painting a picture from it for the market.
Any pleasure he migiht have experienced in his election to the Academy as a full member in 1829 was counteracted by his grief at the loss of his wife, who had just previously died. It was the thought of this faithful companion and helper that prompted Constable to say his election as R.A was ‘too late’.
Though it would be a gross exaggeration to say that Constable ever obtained anything like popularity in his own lifetime, his landscapes after 1831 began to be known to a wider public by virtue of the mezzotints of some of his best paintings by David Lucas (1802-81). Lucas was an engraver of genius, who brilliantly translated into black-and-white the beauties of Constable’s light and shadow, but when he first approached the artist for permission to engrave his work Constable was dismally despondent about project. ‘The painter himself is totally unpopular,’ he said, ‘ and will be so on this side of the grave. The subjects are nothing but art, and the buyers are wholly ignorant of that.’ Nevertheless Lucas persisted with his mezzotints, which did much to spread the fame of Constable, and these engravings are now eagerly sought for at high prices by collectors.
Though never becoming actually despondent or embittered, Constable naturally craved for the appreciation which he felt he deserved, and in the endeavor to court notice he even went so far as to advertise in the newspapers:
‘Mr Constable’s Gallery of Landscapes, by his own hand, is to be seen gratis daily, by an application at his residence.’
Natural Landscape (continued)
For example, in the ‘Sketch for the Leaping Horse,’ the bent willow is to the right of the horse and its rider, as it doubtless was in the scene that Constable actually beheld; but in the picture of ‘The Leaping Horse in the Diploma Gallery of the Royal Academy, the tree is shifted to the other side of the horse and rider, more to your left, in order to improve the design and emphasise the rhythm of the diagonal accents from the big tree on our left to the waterweeds in the opposite lower corner. This transposition of the willowtree is exceedingly instructive, for it proves that Constable did not, as some have maintained, simply paint ‘snapshots’ of Nature; he understood the science of picture making as well as any artist, and while desirous above all of presenting the general truth of the scene before him, he did not scruple to alter the position of one particular tree or other object if thereby he thought he could improve the composition of his picture.
Constable was now fifty, but still he was only an A.R.A. Neither ‘The Leaping Horse’ nor ‘The Cornfield’, which he exhibited in 1826, moved his brother artists to make him an Academician, and though ‘The Cornfield attracted a good deal of attention and was one of the first pictures to make Constable talked about in London, it did not sell, but remained in his possession to the day of his death. There would seem to be no denying that to the end of a number of Academicians were unable to appreciate the genius of Constable, and after the death of Joseph Farington in 1821 he had no keen admirer with influence within their ranks. The story is told that one year, after he had at last been elected R.A in 1829, Constable submitted one of his works labelled with another name to the Academy jury. When the majority had voted for its rejection, Constable admitted his authorship and quietly remarked, ‘There, gentlemen, I always thought you did not like my style of painting.’
When official recognition came it was ‘too late,’ as Constable sady said. Fortunately he was not in want, for in 1828 his wife’s father had died and left Constable the sum of £20000. ‘This,’ wrote Constable, ‘I will settle on my wife and children, and I shall then be able to stand before a six-foot canvas with a mind at ease, thank God!’ From this exclamation it would certainly appear as if the painter himself took more pleasure in his six-foot sketch than in painting a picture from it for the market.
Any pleasure he migiht have experienced in his election to the Academy as a full member in 1829 was counteracted by his grief at the loss of his wife, who had just previously died. It was the thought of this faithful companion and helper that prompted Constable to say his election as R.A was ‘too late’.
Though it would be a gross exaggeration to say that Constable ever obtained anything like popularity in his own lifetime, his landscapes after 1831 began to be known to a wider public by virtue of the mezzotints of some of his best paintings by David Lucas (1802-81). Lucas was an engraver of genius, who brilliantly translated into black-and-white the beauties of Constable’s light and shadow, but when he first approached the artist for permission to engrave his work Constable was dismally despondent about project. ‘The painter himself is totally unpopular,’ he said, ‘ and will be so on this side of the grave. The subjects are nothing but art, and the buyers are wholly ignorant of that.’ Nevertheless Lucas persisted with his mezzotints, which did much to spread the fame of Constable, and these engravings are now eagerly sought for at high prices by collectors.
Though never becoming actually despondent or embittered, Constable naturally craved for the appreciation which he felt he deserved, and in the endeavor to court notice he even went so far as to advertise in the newspapers:
‘Mr Constable’s Gallery of Landscapes, by his own hand, is to be seen gratis daily, by an application at his residence.’
Natural Landscape (continued)
Colored Stone Update
Intense yellow green (Canary type) tourmalines from Zambia (Lundazi district, eastern Zambia) is the talk of the town + the stones are mined in eluvial/alluvial and primary deposits + most of the tourmalines are heat treated (550-550°C) to reduce the brown/orange tint + stones of mixed sizes (melee +) are encountered in the marketplace + if in doubt always consult a reputed gem testing laboratory.
Heard On The Street
The school of hard knocks (SOHK) is the best education one can have in gem / jewelry / art business + it teaches you that very often you get even basic principles completely mixed up + one lives and learns.
John Jewkes
I found John Jewkes' short summary on The Sources of Invention fascinating and educational + I think unique breakthroughs in alternative energy sources may most likely come from unexpected sources.
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
Public Art
I found the article on public art @ http://www.guardian.co.uk/arts/gallery/2008/feb/15/photography?picture=332544168 very interesting.
Frida Kahlo
The largest U.S. show of the Frida Kahlo's work in 15 years opens at the Philadelphia Museum of Art on February 20 + on view are over 40 of Frida Kahlo's famed self-portraits, spanning her life's work.
Useful links:
http://philamuseum.org
www.fridakahlo.com
Useful links:
http://philamuseum.org
www.fridakahlo.com
Natural Landscape
(via The Outline of Art) William Orpen writes:
It was in 1816 that he married Maria Bicknell, with whom he had been in love since 1811, and the correspondence between the two during these five years—several letters of which still exist—shows the simple nature of the writers and the complete trust each had in the other. The marriage was delayed owning to the long opposition of Constable’s father, and eventually it took place against his wishes, but there was no serious breach between father and son, and neither Constable senior nor Mr Bicknell, who was also very comfortably off, allowed the young couple to be in actual want. Two years before his marriage Constable had for the first time sold two landscapes to total strangers, but as yet he had no real success, and the young couple set up house modestly at 76 Charlotte Street, Fitzroy Square.
In 1819, when Constable was forty three, he exhibited at the Academy a large landscape, ‘View on the River Stour,’ which was keenly appreciated by his brother artists and resulted in his being elected as Associate, and in the following year his love of Nature led him to take a house at Hampstead.
When ‘The Hay Wain’ was exhibited at the Royal Academy in 1821 it attracted compartively little attention, but three years later it was sold to a French collector, who sent it to the Paris Salon of 1824, where it created a veritable sensation. Constable was awarded a gold medal, and his picture had an immediate and lasting effect on French art. His pure and brilliant color was a revelation and an inspiration to French painters, and under the glamor of ‘The Hay Wain’ Delacroix, the leader of the French Romanticists, obtained leave to retouch his ‘Massacre of Scio’ in the same exhibition. In a fortnight he repainted it throughout, using the strongest, purest, and most vivid colors he could find, and henceforward not only were Delacroix’s ideas of color and landscape revolutionized by Constable’s masterpiece, but a whole school of French landscape painters arose, as we shall see in a later chapter, whose art to a great extent based on the example and practice of Constable.
It was in France, then, that Constable had his first real success, and Frenchmen were the first in large numbers fully to appreciate his genius. It is a piece of great good luck that ‘The Hay Wain’ ever came back to England, but fortunately it was recovered by a British collector, George Young, and at his sale in 1866 it was purchased by the late Henry Vaughan, who in 1886 gave it to the National Gallery.
In 1825 Constable, now possessing a European reputation though still neglected in his own country, sent to the Academy his famous picture ‘The Leaping Horse’, which is generally considered to be his central masterwork, though many shrewd judges consider that the essence of his fresh, naturalistic art is still more brilliantly displayed in the big preparatory six foot sketch of the same subject, now in the Victoria and Albert Museum. It was Constable’s habit to make these large preparatory sketches for pictures of special importance, and the great difference between the sketch and the picture is that the former was done in the open, directly from Nature, while the latter was worked up in the studio. Consequently the sketch always contains a freshness and vigor, something of which is lost in the picture, though this last sometimes has refinements of design, not to be found in the sketch.
Natural Landscape (continued)
It was in 1816 that he married Maria Bicknell, with whom he had been in love since 1811, and the correspondence between the two during these five years—several letters of which still exist—shows the simple nature of the writers and the complete trust each had in the other. The marriage was delayed owning to the long opposition of Constable’s father, and eventually it took place against his wishes, but there was no serious breach between father and son, and neither Constable senior nor Mr Bicknell, who was also very comfortably off, allowed the young couple to be in actual want. Two years before his marriage Constable had for the first time sold two landscapes to total strangers, but as yet he had no real success, and the young couple set up house modestly at 76 Charlotte Street, Fitzroy Square.
In 1819, when Constable was forty three, he exhibited at the Academy a large landscape, ‘View on the River Stour,’ which was keenly appreciated by his brother artists and resulted in his being elected as Associate, and in the following year his love of Nature led him to take a house at Hampstead.
When ‘The Hay Wain’ was exhibited at the Royal Academy in 1821 it attracted compartively little attention, but three years later it was sold to a French collector, who sent it to the Paris Salon of 1824, where it created a veritable sensation. Constable was awarded a gold medal, and his picture had an immediate and lasting effect on French art. His pure and brilliant color was a revelation and an inspiration to French painters, and under the glamor of ‘The Hay Wain’ Delacroix, the leader of the French Romanticists, obtained leave to retouch his ‘Massacre of Scio’ in the same exhibition. In a fortnight he repainted it throughout, using the strongest, purest, and most vivid colors he could find, and henceforward not only were Delacroix’s ideas of color and landscape revolutionized by Constable’s masterpiece, but a whole school of French landscape painters arose, as we shall see in a later chapter, whose art to a great extent based on the example and practice of Constable.
It was in France, then, that Constable had his first real success, and Frenchmen were the first in large numbers fully to appreciate his genius. It is a piece of great good luck that ‘The Hay Wain’ ever came back to England, but fortunately it was recovered by a British collector, George Young, and at his sale in 1866 it was purchased by the late Henry Vaughan, who in 1886 gave it to the National Gallery.
In 1825 Constable, now possessing a European reputation though still neglected in his own country, sent to the Academy his famous picture ‘The Leaping Horse’, which is generally considered to be his central masterwork, though many shrewd judges consider that the essence of his fresh, naturalistic art is still more brilliantly displayed in the big preparatory six foot sketch of the same subject, now in the Victoria and Albert Museum. It was Constable’s habit to make these large preparatory sketches for pictures of special importance, and the great difference between the sketch and the picture is that the former was done in the open, directly from Nature, while the latter was worked up in the studio. Consequently the sketch always contains a freshness and vigor, something of which is lost in the picture, though this last sometimes has refinements of design, not to be found in the sketch.
Natural Landscape (continued)
Jewelers Of The Seventeenth Century
(via 5000 Years of Gems and Jewelry) Frances Rogers and Alice Beard writes:
2. Tavernier, Jeweler To The King
In France, during the first half of the seventeenth century, the taste for fine gemstones had been fanned to a flame by tales of the splendors of the Orient and by confirmation of those tales in the form of magnificent gems brought home by merchant-travelers.
Foremost among the travelers was Jean-Baptiste Tavernier (1605-89), who at the age of twenty-five set forth in the company of two French priests for the Orient. He spent a year in Constantinople trading in costly stones and then made his way to Persia. His description of the splendors he beheld in that land of jewels was more like a dream of enchantment than reality. Even the royal thrones were encrusted with precious stones, he said, but the throne of Shah Jehen eclipsed all others.
This was the famous peacock throne, so-called because of the great jeweled peacock placed above it. The plumage of the bird’s wide-spread tail was represented by a mass of sapphires, emeralds, and other color stones. Its body was enameled gold, studded with rich stones, and from its breast hung a huge pendent ruby and a pear-shaped pearl. Suspended in front of the throne itself was an enormous diamond so that at all times the Shah could feast his eyes on its glittering beauty.
During the course of the next thirty years Tavernier made five more journeys to the Orient, visiting the diamond mines of Golconda and the court of the Great Mogul of India, where he saw a diamond which he described as having the form of an egg cut through the middle. He estimated its value as being more than $4,000,000. This diamond, says Tavernier, was ‘rose cut’; and behind that simple fact lay one of those minor tragedies due to divergence of viewpoint between contracting parties.
The Mogul of India, instead of entrusting his great diamond to a native diamond cutter had commissioned Hortensio Borgio, a Venetian, to cut the stone.
Now, in Europe, diamonds had been cut in the form known as rose as early as 1520, the idea being to bring out the brilliance of the gem even at considerable sacrifice of its size; but in the Orient, size was all important factor. A native gem cutter would small facets (placed hit or miss) to conceal whatever flaws a diamond might have, but he wasted as little as possible of the precious material in the process. Brilliance and symmetry were secondary considerations.
Evidently neither the Mogul nor Hortensio Borgio had suspected this difference of opinion until it was too late. The luckless Venetian had reduced the weight of the great diamond to such an extent that its owner expressed his royal displeasure, not only by refusing to pay for the work but by fining the gem cutter 10000 rupees—and only stopped at that because the poor man had no more.
This big stone, ever a trouble-maker, has long since disappeared—no one knows where—for the great diamond described by Tavernier was the famous Great Mogul whose colorful story, told in a later chapter, ends in mystery.
Jewelers Of The Seventeenth Century (continued)
2. Tavernier, Jeweler To The King
In France, during the first half of the seventeenth century, the taste for fine gemstones had been fanned to a flame by tales of the splendors of the Orient and by confirmation of those tales in the form of magnificent gems brought home by merchant-travelers.
Foremost among the travelers was Jean-Baptiste Tavernier (1605-89), who at the age of twenty-five set forth in the company of two French priests for the Orient. He spent a year in Constantinople trading in costly stones and then made his way to Persia. His description of the splendors he beheld in that land of jewels was more like a dream of enchantment than reality. Even the royal thrones were encrusted with precious stones, he said, but the throne of Shah Jehen eclipsed all others.
This was the famous peacock throne, so-called because of the great jeweled peacock placed above it. The plumage of the bird’s wide-spread tail was represented by a mass of sapphires, emeralds, and other color stones. Its body was enameled gold, studded with rich stones, and from its breast hung a huge pendent ruby and a pear-shaped pearl. Suspended in front of the throne itself was an enormous diamond so that at all times the Shah could feast his eyes on its glittering beauty.
During the course of the next thirty years Tavernier made five more journeys to the Orient, visiting the diamond mines of Golconda and the court of the Great Mogul of India, where he saw a diamond which he described as having the form of an egg cut through the middle. He estimated its value as being more than $4,000,000. This diamond, says Tavernier, was ‘rose cut’; and behind that simple fact lay one of those minor tragedies due to divergence of viewpoint between contracting parties.
The Mogul of India, instead of entrusting his great diamond to a native diamond cutter had commissioned Hortensio Borgio, a Venetian, to cut the stone.
Now, in Europe, diamonds had been cut in the form known as rose as early as 1520, the idea being to bring out the brilliance of the gem even at considerable sacrifice of its size; but in the Orient, size was all important factor. A native gem cutter would small facets (placed hit or miss) to conceal whatever flaws a diamond might have, but he wasted as little as possible of the precious material in the process. Brilliance and symmetry were secondary considerations.
Evidently neither the Mogul nor Hortensio Borgio had suspected this difference of opinion until it was too late. The luckless Venetian had reduced the weight of the great diamond to such an extent that its owner expressed his royal displeasure, not only by refusing to pay for the work but by fining the gem cutter 10000 rupees—and only stopped at that because the poor man had no more.
This big stone, ever a trouble-maker, has long since disappeared—no one knows where—for the great diamond described by Tavernier was the famous Great Mogul whose colorful story, told in a later chapter, ends in mystery.
Jewelers Of The Seventeenth Century (continued)
Colored Stone Jewelry
What's intriguing in the colored stone jewelry business is that consumers are always looking for something new and different to enhance their styles + they want something that reflects and refracts their personality + they appreciate the quality, and if there is a good story, and when they see it, they want it.
Indiana Jones Movie
(via budgettravel) The movie trailer for the next Indiana Jones movie has hit the Web + what's interesting about the Indian Jones series is that the lustre/characters of the movie will be always with you forever.
Monday, February 18, 2008
Paul Reeves
Economist writes about Paul Reeves and his unique furniture collections (British design from the Gothic Revival onwards) + the upcoming exhibition/auction at Sotheby's + other viewpoints @ http://www.economist.com/daily/columns/artview/displaystory.cfm?story_id=10711664
Useful link:
www.paulreeveslondon.com
I think they are beautiful + Paul Reeves definitely has a good eye to spot the real ones.
Useful link:
www.paulreeveslondon.com
I think they are beautiful + Paul Reeves definitely has a good eye to spot the real ones.
Game Of Go
In my view, Go is a very challenging game of the highest levels + the Game of Go may have a lot to teach us about the state of mind + it’s very much a game of risk and reward.
The Cigar-butt Approach
(via Warren Buffett) A cigar butt found on the street that has only one puff left in it may not offer much of a smoke, but the 'bargain purchase' will make that puff all profit.
I have a great attachment to this style because of its simplicity and intuitive appeal + it is easier to figure out and requires less use of judgment than other forms of investing + I wonder whether the concept works in the gem/jewelry/art business.
I have a great attachment to this style because of its simplicity and intuitive appeal + it is easier to figure out and requires less use of judgment than other forms of investing + I wonder whether the concept works in the gem/jewelry/art business.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)