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My Pysanky

Some might consider making pysanky a lonely pastime for the sake of the craft.  They cannot be more wrong.  For every egg I give, donate or sell, I receive joy tenfold. 


I gain stories from those who come to see my eggs—stories of  childhood reminiscences of the pysanka, stories about seeking and finding ethnic roots, stories of appreciation for my art;  sentimental, funny stories.  When I am alone at my work table with my egg and flame, these stories fill the quiet solitude surrounding me.  I remember each person with whom my pysanky have brought me in contact, from First Ladies and United States senators to movie stars, waitresses, students and little children.  Each has enriched me in a unique way.

Is there a definitive reason that explains why I do what I do?  No.  All I can say is that the pysanka makes me a part of the bezkonechnyk—the eternal line that stretches across time and place from ancient Ukrainian villages to my brownstone in modern-day Manhattan.

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