Gallery of Rare Jewels | David Humphrey

An original and impressive single transparent selenite crystal mounted on a geometric steel base. This represents a collaboration between David Humphrey, Eric Peterson (34stbombers} and Peter Asmar of Asmar Studio. - With thanks.
23 inches tall and 30 inches wide
Note: Does not include the antique Mother of Pearl Inlay Trunk.

Single Transparent Selenite crystal (30 x 19 inches) on a geometric steel base with an oxidized satin finish. The sculpture stands 23 inches high by 30 inches wide at the base.
Item #221DH

The Kris

A charismatic exploration geologist in the Petroleum Industry, my father, Dr. William E. Humphrey, combed the world for prospects most of the time when I was a kid. After one trip that included Jakarta, he brought me home an exotic asymmetrical dagger with a wavy blade of Damascus steel that came to a highly sharpened point. It had a plain wooden sheath that matched the carved hilt. This, he told me, was a Kris. I kept it in my room and showed it to my friends with pride over the years until it eventually found its way onto my parents’ display shelves after I left home. What impressed me the most was that when I held it, it had the heft and feel of something not to be messed with.

The Kris: Mystic Weapon of the Malay World by Edward Frey helped me to gain a deeper appreciation for my own simple Kris, which paled by comparison to the exquisitely jeweled Kris of royal provenance that one day also found its way to me.

From friend to friend do objects go and where they end up, no one knows. One day a friend brings me an extraordinary Kris. It is difficult to “grok” at once. It is much larger than the one my father gave me. Its sheath is of chase and repoussé sheet gold, ivory, figured exotic wood. The long, straight blade is of masterfully forged steel. The hilt is in the form of a chased gold Raksha, a mythical guardian, set with diamonds and rubies in the head, large Burmese ruby cabochons at the base, and on its chest, a 2 to 3 carat pyramid diamond, most certainly from the legendary Golconda mines of India.

The masterpiece had been acquired in the auction of “deaccessioned” property for the Fowler Museum in Los Angeles. The elder Mr. Fowler had purchased the Kris in 1954 at a Sothebys sale called Palace Collections of Egypt. In the nineteen twenties the Raja of Bali gave the Kris to King Farouk after his majesty had presented him with a diamond-studded box. King Farouk was well known for extravagant gift exchanges! And now, it was on my desk, consigned to me for sale.

It sounds like a real no-brainer, right? Not so fast. I cannot tell you how many times I hear whiny concerns even as I offer exquisite jewels for sale to qualified buyers: What am I going to do with it? I do not understand it! How much? That much? Why?

The Kris remained in my safe as a loaf of bread baking in the oven until its time. Months. A sale only requires one buyer. A conversation began with a client in Hong Kong, followed by supporting documents including a letter from a museum director who’d borrowed the Kris from the Fowler for his own exhibitions. After further discussions, a price was arrived at followed by the tedious process of drawing CITES permits for the shipment of the ivory bearing sheath, to Hong Kong. CITES polices the movement of protected species to make sure that no illegal material is traded in the world. Documentation to support that the Kris was antique and made around 1840 assured CITES that no laws were being violated in the transaction.

In short, the sale was completed. The buyer got cold feet after spending the tens of thousands and I witnessed him sell the Kris to an “important man” in Hong Kong for a ten percent profit. I went on to Singapore after Hong Kong and was surprised to learn through other dealers that the tale of the Kris sale had already begun to spread throughout Southeast Asia! Today’s value would be in the hundreds of thousands.

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A Special Necklace

For a decade I owned and operated what I affectionately called - my shop, in Pacific Palisades, California. I offered there, as I do now; a compelling range of fine jewelry together with fine works of art and antiques. Most everyone that would find his or her way into my shop would be thoroughly amazed, especially if they would slow down long enough from their frenetic day to allow for a child like sense of awe and wonder. It is always a good idea to do that, in my opinion.

One fellow that frequented the shop from time to time stands out in my memory. He was bright, sincere and intellectually curious. He began his visits by honing in on the antique Indian jewels or objects on display. He would then ply me for every bit of information I could give him about each piece. He may have been testing to see what I knew about his home country of India.

After a few cordial encounters it became his routine to stop by every few days. On several visits he voiced resentment towards a particular character depicted on Seinfeld, the TV show. He was incensed, convinced that the portrayal of a Pakistani cafe owner in many of the show episodes was based on him specifically. It certainly was plausible given the remarkable similarity between his mannerisms and those of Babu. His visits increasingly turned darker. He would stop by just to rant about different things. I would try to keep the peace, make light and humor him but I drew the line once he made the menacing threat to murder the President of a local University as retribution for an injustice he had suffered at the hands of the President. I cannot actually remember the beef he had or if I ever had a grasp on just what it was. I made it clear to him that such aggressive behavior was not appropriate in my store. For some reason I did not take his threat seriously enough to call the cops. My sense was that he was emotionally confused, but that there was no clear and present danger to anyone really.

He showed up again some days later. My body stiffened anxiously as I let him in but it turned out he had just come to give me a necklace. It was a long strand composed of small, faceted black onyx beads, which he had inherited. He said he would not charge me but that he wanted me to promise to find it a good home. I promised, thanked him and placed the necklace inside a box in the second drawer of my front jewelry case. A friend later informed me that they were traditional Indian mourning beads.

Time passed. The days grew short. Darkness fell early.

In the evenings, in the shop, something special happened. In the evenings, in the shop, the carefully lit displays came into focus. In the evenings, in the shop, the euphony of jewelry and artifacts was magnified. Yoruba woodcarvings stood next to scintillating diamond and moonstone necklaces under the watchful, gouache-on-paper gaze of a gaunt prince of the fourth rank, wearing ermine cap and collar, seated in the large ancestor portrait, which hung on the wall. In the evenings, in the shop, the rare jewels and objects seemed to engage one another in telepathic conversations under the canopy of mahogany and stained glass, masterfully executed by life long friends, designers, Will Ingersoll and Kent Lauer. From inconspicuous speakers, a steady soundtrack of rhythms, melodies and counter rhythms permeated the space.

It was just before Christmas. The face of a young girl appeared at my door and I buzzed her in. She was all of nine years of age, on her own. While many adults found the security doors intimidating, this little girl walked in without a trace of fear. She browsed the displays. The costs, even for the least expensive items, would surely be beyond her reach. She told me she was looking for a gift and asked if I had something she might afford. I asked her how much she could spend. She said ten dollars. She explained that her grandfather had just passed away and she wanted something special to give her grandmother who was sad.

I thought for a minute then remembered and slowly opened the second drawer of the front jewelry case where I stood. I pulled out the necklace that had been left, for which I had promised to find a good home. She approached the case as I held up the long strand of glistening, faceted onyx beads.

How about these, I asked. I placed them on the counter before her. She gazed speechless, fingering the beads. She then looked up at me. I can have these for ten dollars? she asked. I said, you sure can; would you like them gift-wrapped? She nodded. I suggested a special box for the necklace and she approved. The magic of the season was unfolding right before my eyes. She was beaming. I finished boxing and wrapping the necklace for her and put the package into a gift bag. She placed ten dollars on the counter, reached for the bag and said thank you. She then turned around and walked away into the night as I buzzed her out through the door.

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Edo Period Japan. A gilt lacquer on wood figure of the Cosmic Buddha on lotus pedestal in gesture of the Knowledge Fist Mudra: Union of spirit and matter. circa 1700 13 1/2' tall on glass base.
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The first reference to Diamond was in Sanskrit. Described as "vajra", the diamond was recognized, because of it's brilliance and hardness, as the embodiment of celestial knowledge and wisdom. The Tibetan Thogchag, circa 14th c., is in the form of a vajra and symbolizes that supreme wisdom. Within the cage I inserted an actual diamond crystal then replaced the missing bar with one of platinum. The platinum C-clamp, which holds the vajra is engraved with Tibetan clouds. I then surrounded the middle of the amulet with two rows of cut diamonds in platinum and have attached this object to a frosted, rock crystal base. Measures approx. 3" high.
Design: David Humphrey