Peter Skubic, the good jeweler/sculptor, had a nice, giant, high-ceilinged residence in Vienna, in addition to a farmhouse within the village of Gamischdorf, Austria. Peter and I had been born on the identical day, August 11. Peter was one yr older than I. Astrologically talking, we’re Leos. Partly due to this coincidence of nature, the very fact is we’ve got each devoted ourselves to creating jewellery in completely non-objective methods. Comparable theories and sensitivities run by way of our veins, touching at factors. Past this, our work is fully totally different. I’ve nice respect for Peter’s work, and I imagine it was reciprocal. It’s by way of these automobiles that we grew to become mates. Nevertheless it is probably not for these causes in any respect. It might be that we simply appreciated each other.
He invited me to see his home and studio in St. Michael. We had been driving there from Vienna, Peter behind the wheel. The village will not be very removed from the Hungarian border. I requested Peter if we may cross into Hungary for only a few minutes. It was 30 or so kilometers out of our means, however Peter mentioned, positive, why not, “I do know a spot simply over the border the place we may get a late lunch.” The city, whose identify I can’t recall, was in a tragic state. Being pressured to be a part of the Communist regime had taken its toll. The buildings we drove by, within the downtown part, had been universally a dismal soiled grey, in want of intensive restoration and restore. Now free from that oppression, the city was slowly enhancing. To date two outlets we drove by had their facades newly transformed. One small two-story constructing is memorable for its complete facade lined in geometric three-dimensional ceramic tiles glazed in an intense shine of sensible orange. They threw a radiant glow, in a burst of the brand new freedom, subsuming the gloom of adjoining buildings.
On the fringe of city stood an remoted tavern, a reasonably tough truck cease and native bar, morphing right into a extra sedate restaurant for the locals within the night. I’m a pink meat vegetarian, which is to say I eat fish and fowl, none of which had been obtainable. Peter had a nice huge lunch, a goulash. I settled for an genuine Hungarian Crepes Palacsinta, which was one in every of my causes for wanting to enter Hungary. The one obtainable filling was unsweetened apple sauce, with apple juice as a beverage. It was half diluted with water and sadly tasteless. However all was adopted by two refreshingly good cups of tea. Peter mentioned to not fear, we might be residence quickly and he would make me a noodle soup from rooster broth. He had nice loaves of bread, and a few good cheeses as effectively, and would make us espressos.
There was an issue. The border crossing we had come by way of allowed Austrians and People entrance into Hungary. Via particular diplomatic preparations, Austrian passport holders may return into Austria by way of the identical checkpoint. People couldn’t. Consequently, Peter needed to drive hours out of the best way, actually by way of the darkish of evening on moonless, unlit again roads. By the point we acquired to Peter’s home, hours had handed. The automobile had warmth, however past the home windows it was March and bitterly chilly. I used to be ravenous, and Peter was getting hungry once more. He had a small black iron range, very fashionable, in rectangular kind. It used wooden very effectively for gasoline and was used for each heating and cooking. Peter went again into the freezing evening to cut kindling. Earlier than lengthy there was heat, and a fabulous nourishing sizzling soup.
Peter had befriended a semi-feral cat that he known as Katze, German for cat. When addressing the cat, he pronounced Katze in an endearing form of means. Peter’s farm faces the village’s fundamental avenue, Gamischdorf. When the storage’s wood double-doors on hinges are opened, a courtyard is revealed. Katze was sitting there, brightly lit within the glow of headlights. Peter mentioned he was at all times there ready for him. Katze should have acknowledged the sound of Peter’s automobile’s motor because it approached. I used to be formally launched to Katze, who adopted us into the home, then disappeared. Peter mentioned he had by no means come to anybody however himself, and so when Katze returned for his dinner I ignored him. Having owned my very own cat, ’Zookie—quick for Bazooka—once I was a young person, I knew the easiest way to make mates with a cat who ignores you is to disregard them, and by no means allow them to catch you even glancing at them. Peter couldn’t imagine it when Katze, who had patiently waited for us to complete our soup—Katze’s dinner had been served earlier than ours—jumped up and sat on my lap. I completely ignored him. He jumped down after some time, then returned thrice. The third time I reached out and petted him. That was that. He jumped down, by no means to return. Katze had caught my consideration. I had misplaced my fringe of superiority. I used to be now thought of riffraff, however the honor Katze had bestowed to me was an extra bond between the Lion Brothers.
Peter laughed once I advised him it was the perfect soup I had ever eaten. He mentioned I used to be so hungry that something I had would style nice. Perhaps, however in my reminiscence I can nonetheless style the miraculous soup Peter had made. After dinner, Peter gave me two small plastic luggage, every stuffed with stones. One held small darkish pink garnets that he had picked up on the ground of a garnet mine within the Czech Republic, during which the information had mentioned that something the guests may collect from the ground they may maintain. The opposite bag contained some very small pebbles picked up on a seaside in Europe. He mentioned, “I believed you prefer to these, and possibly do one thing with them.”
The following day he drove us again to Vienna, the place I caught a airplane again to the States.
Some years later, Peter despatched me a small necklace of tiny black diamonds with a word that mentioned, “You’ll be able to put on these or possibly use them.” I put on them often. They scratch barely, in a not disagreeable means, making their presence identified. I look forward to the appropriate second, and car, to make use of them for Skubic Stones # III.
In one other yr in Vienna, Peter and I had been strolling by way of slim cobbled streets on our method to someplace I can’t now recall. A stroll with Peter grew to become fairly an journey, for he would cease at each store window the place there was even the slightest glimmer of knickknack. Whereas I can simply move up nearly something that’s not up to date artist jewellery, not Peter. You couldn’t drag him away from a window with any sort of jewellery—vintage, industrial, platinum and diamonds, junk jewellery, ethnic, you identify it. Then Peter, whereas standing there wanting by way of gleaming plate-glass home windows at brightly illuminated shows, would talk about every bit. I inform you, his critique was extraordinarily instructive. It acquired in order that I may hardly wait till we arrived on the subsequent window. We had been late after we acquired to the place we had been going. Peter had enthralled me, and himself too, at a dozen or so home windows.
The again of Peter’s home on Gamischdorf slopes gently downward. It’s stuffed with an orchard of historical apple bushes. Within the fall, Peter gathered the ripened apples. On an vintage apple press, he made cider, which he bottled in glass. The bottles, darkish inexperienced, elegant, had been like these used for Champagne.
Within the Vienna residence, Peter made crepes, dozens and dozens of them, warm-off-the-stove scrumptious, whereas Petra Zimmermann introduced them out, one batch at a time, to serve six of us. Then Peter got here from the kitchen, serving himself final and bringing out the Champagne bottles. Somebody acknowledged them for what they had been and mentioned, “Ah, selfmade cider,” and Peter replied, “No, no, it’s Thomas Wine.” Peter knew I used to be allergic to alcohol and had named it after me. With out fail, at any time when I used to be round, he would declare it “Thomas Wine.” Peter’s kindness and consideration prolonged to everybody.
His pleasure and dedication to at all times be making jewellery was evident, particularly in St. Michael, the place I noticed a window set deep inside thick partitions. The extraordinarily large windowsill was used as a jewellery bench. The sunshine arriving by way of the window, and the view past, made it a really lovely office. Peter stood there to work, for Peter, at one level, had injured himself. and was not permitted, till he was healed, to take a seat for lengthy durations. (A muscle in his again, I feel). When the windowsill grew to become too crowded, he constructed himself an exceptionally tall jewellery bench of wooden. There he would work, standing, for a lot of hours at a time. It was lengthy earlier than I knew him, however the bench remained in its tall, regal proportions in case or not it’s wanted once more.
Peter and I exchanged Lion Brother presents for a lot of of these August 11 birthdays, although we had been by no means collectively besides in spirit.
There was some confusion as to how his final identify is appropriately pronounced. There have been a number of of us collectively when the query got here up but once more. Everybody hazarded their model of Skubic. After listening to them he mentioned, “Whichever one you need, they’re all right.”
When the loss of life of my Lion Brother got here, I, like everybody who knew him, went into deep grief. As destiny would have it, I used to be enjoying a chunk of music. I performed that music again and again and over for 3 days working. The ability of music helped me to simply accept this anguish, to carry it in test.
After these days I made this quick video to honor Peter, my Lion Brother. The music is written by Fritz Kreisler and carried out by Isaac Stern. Its title, “Liebesleid,” interprets to “Heartache” in English. That is for Peter:
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