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Large Gold Cross Pendant

large gold cross pendant
    gold cross
  • ('??????? ???????') - wears the badge on a ribbon on the left chest;
  • chandelier: branched lighting fixture; often ornate; hangs from the ceiling
  • Hanging downward; pendent
  • pendent: held from above; "a pendant bunch of grapes"
  • an adornment that hangs from a piece of jewelry (necklace or earring)
  • Pursuing an occupation or commercial activity on a significant scale
  • above average in size or number or quantity or magnitude or extent; "a large city"; "set out for the big city"; "a large sum"; "a big (or large) barn"; "a large family"; "big businesses"; "a big expenditure"; "a large number of newspapers"; "a big group of scientists"; "large areas of the world"
  • a garment size for a large person
  • Of considerable or relatively great size, extent, or capacity
  • at a distance, wide of something (as of a mark)
  • Of greater size than the ordinary, esp. with reference to a size of clothing or to the size of a packaged commodity
large gold cross pendant - 14 K
14 K solid Gold Messianic Pendant - Large (2.7 cm or 1.1 inches ) - Chain not included
14 K solid Gold Messianic Pendant - Large (2.7 cm or 1.1 inches ) - Chain not included
One of the early Church symbols found in Jerusalem. Heavy and handmade.
`For there is no difference between Jew and Gentile-the same Lord is Lord of all and richly blesses all who call on him, for, Everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved.` Romans 12:13.
An early Church sign of both Jewish and Gentile faith in the Messiah Jesus. The Menorah represents God`s covenant to His people , the Fish icthys was used as an acronym for Iosus Cristos, son of God, saviour and the star of David represents Israel of God.

81% (12)
BROOKLYN BASED - EyeLevel BQE in Focus
BROOKLYN BASED - EyeLevel BQE in Focus
SOURCE: BROOKLYN BASED.NET TITLE: EyeLevel BQE in Focus DATE: November 9, 2010 AUTHOR: Joann Kim Lisa Iglesias’ first solo exhibition at EyeLevel BQE is comprised of rodeo horses, cardboard gold chains, a dance marathon video, and paper mache assault guns. At first glance these elements have little apparent associations, but upon closer look a seamless correlation occurs that is at once charming and powerful. The show is the first at EyeLevel curated by a guest curator, Erin Sickler, who is the Director of Curatorial Programs at 601Artspace. The premise is centered around the 1969 film They Shoot Horses, Don’t They? in which a group of desperately money-hungry characters participate in a Depression-era dance marathon (which at one point leads to literally running around a derby track like rodeo horses) for a chance to win $1500. La Sonnambula, an animated 6-minute looped video comprised of hundreds of roughly sketched drawings, depicts a short scene from the movie where in which the characters are dancing toward the brink of death. Figures are drawn with thin and wispy marks, their bodies contorted in choppy and repeated movements in front of a stark, blank background. Their pathetic and ghastly state is accompanied by an acoustic arrangement based on the opera of the same name, its sound manipulated and crossed-over, layered and slowed down to create a creepy drone full of static and fuzz. A series of drawings depicts horses suspended mid-air, their pristinely drafted bodies contorted and tense in a state of perpetual movement, functioning as a literal translation of the characters in the film as demented derby horses. Atomic Teeth, a sculptural installation comprised of 21 blackened paper mache AK-47 assault rifles, is displayed in the window front, each gun pointing at a center to create a circular iconic image of worship and sacrifice. The title refers to the profusion of this model gun used in war all over the world, acquiring a status both to salute and to kill, and a decry of US Imperialism from Mao Zedong as a paper tiger with atomic teeth, harmless but not without weapons. Situated on one corner of the gallery space is a pile of larger-than-life chains, fabricated by hand using cardboard to cut and link oversized ovals to make up a faux gold necklace with a statement pendant spelling out “Always Forever” that is opulently hung on the wall. It’s ominous and burdensome, a warning of how marriage and relationships as a human condition can deceive and falsify. The literal translations and reinterpretations of mass culture, the process of re-historicizing and re-purposing materials is transparent in Iglesias’s works. The efforts can be a bit tedious, but the sincerity and witticism is welcome. Located on a cozy non-descript storefront alongside the BQE, EyeLevel BQE was started by Gabriela Alva Cal y Mayor. It is shared as a showroom with her fiance Tyler Clemens, the co-founder of Outlier, a clothing line producing comfortable bike wear for the professionals and commuters. A result of happenstance, Eyelevel BQE started almost two years ago when Gabriela was in search of a hat designer for an art installation. She met with and began collaborating with esteemed designer Victor Osborne in his showroom and atelier, where Gabriela curated projects to be installed in the window. When Osborne left for the Lower East Side, EyeLevel BQE was born with the intention of bringing a community of artists and non-artists together for collaborative projects. Stepping away from the traditional function of an art gallery to represent artists and sell their work, Gabriela was more interested in finding ways to promote their works and create necessary visuals and events to bring as many people together to share and experience art with an open and non-discriminatory agenda. Free of scenes and trends, the space functions as active grounds for experiments and exploration, and showcases works that invite audience participation and production. Gabriela moved to New York five years ago from Mexico City and is an emerging artist exploring everyday materials and their cultural significance through multiple mediums including printmaking, sculpture and photography. Here interest in how everyday materials and language are used and reused have resulted in works such as her Band Aid series, in which the ubiquitous and often insincere phrase “Are you OK?” was translated to the temporary and superficial covering of Band Aids. Running a space like EyeLevel BQE is not the most lucrative endeavor and Gabriela compensates by driving her creative efforts into various channels. She is one of many graphic designers freelancing and floating about Brooklyn, and these gigs often lead to multi-media collaborative projects. In providing marketing and development consulting for the restaurant Viva La Crepe in Nolita, the space is also utilized as a breeding ground for performances and gatherings organized and
Sci-fi For Cat Lovers
Sci-fi For Cat Lovers
I know it looks a bit hokey, but it is actually a lot of fun! I apologize to the author for the re-formatting to make it fit. ... and hope she doesn't mind this liberty. :) There had been something loose on the station dock all morning, skulking in amongst the gantries and the lines and the canisters which were waiting to be moved, lurking wher­ever shadows fell among the rampway accesses of the many ships at dock at Meetpoint. It was pale, naked, starved-looking in what fleeting glimpse anyone on The Pride of Chanur had had of it. Evidently no one had reported it to station au­thorities, nor did The Pride. Involving oneself in others' concerns at Meetpoint Station, where several species came to trade and provision, was ill-advised—at least until one was personally bothered. Whatever it was, it was bipedal, brachi-ate, and quick at making itself unseen. It had surely gotten away from someone, and likeliest were the kif, who had a thieving finger in everything, and who were not above kid­napping. Or it might be some large, bizarre animal; the ma-hendo'sat were inclined to the keeping and trade of strange pets, and Station had been displeased with them in that re­spect on more than one occasion. So far it had done nothing. Stolen nothing. No one wanted to get involved in question and answer between original owners and station authorities; and so far no official statement had come down from those station authorities and no notice of its loss had been posted by any ship, which itself argued that a wise person should not ask questions. The crew reported it only to the captain and chased it, twice, from The Pride's loading area. Then the crew got to work on necessary duties, having settled the an­noyance to their satisfaction. It was the last matter on the mind of the noble, the distin­guished captain Pyanfar Chanur, who was setting out down her own rampway for the docks. She was hani, this captain, splendidly maned and bearded in red-gold, which reached hi silken curls to the middle of her bare, sleek-pelted chest, and she was dressed as befitted a hani of captain's rank, blousing scarlet breeches tucked up at her waist with a broad gold belt, with silk cords of every shade of red and orange wrap­ping that about, each knotted cord with a pendant jewel on its dangling end. Gold finished the breeches at her knees. Gold filigree was her armlet. And a row of fine gold rings and a large pendant pearl decorated the tufted sweep of her left ear. She strode down her own rampway in the security of ownership—still high-blooded from a quarrel with her niece—and yelled and bared claws as the intruder came bear­ing down on her. She landed one raking, startled blow which would have held a hani in the encounter, but the hairless skin tore and it hurtled past her, taller than she was. It skidded around the bending of the curved ramp tube and bounded right into the ship, trailing blood all the way and leaving a bloody hand­print on the rampway's white plastic wall. Pyanfar gaped in outrage and pelted after, claws scrabbling for traction on the flooring plates. "Hilfy!" she shouted ahead; her niece had been in the lower corridor. Pyanfar made it into the airlock, hit the bar of the com panel there and punched all-ship. "Alert! Hilfy! Call the crew in! Some­thing's gotten aboard. Seal yourself into the nearest compart­ment and call the crew." She flung open the locker next to the com unit, grabbed a pistol and scrambled in pursuit of the intruder. No trouble at all tracking it, with the dotted red trail on the white decking. The track led left at the first cross-corridor, which was deserted—the intruder must have gone left again, starting to box the square round the lift shafts. Pyanfar ran, heard a shout from that intersecting cor­ridor and scrambled for it: Hilfy! She rounded the corner at a slide and came up short on a tableau, the intruder's hair­less, red-running back and young Hilfy Chanur holding the corridor beyond with nothing but bared claws and adolescent bluster. "Idiot!" Pyanfar spat at Hilfy, and the intruder turned on her suddenly, much closer. It brought up short in a staggered crouch, seeing the gun aimed two-handed at itself. It might have sense not to rush a weapon; might . . . but that would turn it right back at Hilfy, who stood unarmed behind. Pyan­far braced to fire at the least movement. It stood rigidly still in its crouch, panting from its running and its wound. "Get out of there," Pyanfar said to Hilfy. "Get back." The intruder knew about hani claws now, and guns, but it might do anything, and Hilfy, an indistinction in her vision which was focused wholly on the intruder, stayed stubbornly still. "Move!" Pyanfar shouted. The intruder shouted too, a snarl which almost got it shot, and drew itself upright and gestured to the center of its chest, twice, defiant. Go on and shoot, it seemed to invite her. That intrigued Pyanfar. The intruder was no

large gold cross pendant
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