Physical Description of the Object 

This tin-plate tapered candle mold stands tall and proud at a height of 12.5 inches. A total of twelve hollow cylindrical vessels for wax are lined up on a rectangular base measuring 8.5 inches in length by 3.75 inches in width, with significant negative space between each cylinder. The top of each mold hole is about three quarters of an inch in diameter with the intention of producing candles of nearly the identical size. The two rows of six are captured between the base and a congruent top, both of which have a half of an inch deep recessed lip. On either side, rounded handles are attached to short side edges of the top rectangle and the two outer cylinders of the candle mold. The length including the handles is 10.5 inches long, making each handle about an inch across at its widest point. The mold is silvery-gray in appearance, although it is discolored by rust in many places. This tawny orange buildup is most noticeable on the outer edges of the handles and the recessed rims of the top and base, although it can be seen speckling each of the individual cylinders, with a particular buildup near the seams and towards the lower half of each candle mold.

Provenance

Dating from the 19th century, the candle mold currently resides as an object in the Historic Huguenot Street collection in New Paltz. It was donated by Dewitt Chauncey LeFevre in the mid-to-late 20th century, although it is unclear where exactly he procured the item. LeFevre lived in Beaver Falls, New York, where he wrote a book in 1979 titled, “Grand-Pere’s Legacy” detailing LeFevre family history in America. There is no indication if the mold was passed down to him as a part of his direct family history, although LeFevre had a clear interest in history, suggesting that he may have been a collector of antiques.

Narrative  

Before the invention of electrical lights, people relied on a combination of natural sunlight and candlelight to illuminate their homes and daily lives. With the help of candle molds, people could reliably shape nearly identical hand-poured candles, a method of candle making that was, in some ways, easier and more efficient than the previously used hand-dipping method. Homes in the 18th and 19th Centuries were lit using candles or lamps that burned oil or grease. Thus, candle molds with one to 72 narrow tin tubes grew in fashion and were used regularly in the household, marking candle making as both a practical necessity and, perhaps less so, as an artform. 

To use a candle mold, a person—usually the mother or a housemaid of the family—would thread a wax-dipped string through each tube, tie it off at the end, seal up the bottom with a small ball of wax to stop leaking, and then pour the melted wax of their choice into the mold to harden. Once poured into place and tied off with a stick to help keep everything lined up and in place, the wax could take up to a full day or more to harden completely. Once the wax settled, the candlemaker would sometimes need to pour in another layer so that the candles did not have hollow centers, which would both weaken their structural integrity, as well as shorten the lifespan of how long the wick would burn. To remove the candles from the mold, it was helpful to soak the entire mold in hot water to make the cast removal easier, as it was possible for candles to get stuck in the mold or for wicks to snap off during the removal process. Although there were some meddlesome aspects of candlemaking, many families still chose to utilize candle molds to create straight and uniform candles for their aesthetic appeal and consistent dimensions. This was particularly important so that a family could display their candles in votives, sconces, and candelabras, all made to fit standard-sized candles. These candle holders were practical, but could also act as a status symbol if a family or organization, such as a church, had many that were adorned with ornate decorations. 

Early candles were made from animal fat, beeswax, or bayberries; however, with the growth of the whaling industry in the late 18th century, spermaceti wax made by the crystallization of sperm whale oil became readily available. Spermaceti did not smell unpleasant, and produced a brighter light than past options. It was also harder than tallow and beeswax, meaning it wouldn’t soften or bend in the heat of summer. It was also less likely to blacken or disform in extreme temperatures, and therefore maintained uniformity better than tallow. Stearin wax, developed in the 1820s, produced study candles that burned cleanly for a long period of time. In 1834, Joseph Morgan, a pewterer from Manchester, England, invented a mechanized candle mold machine that allowed for the continuous production of molded candles, meaning that candles were a more readily available product overseas. 

With no clear date of creation or maker’s mark, it is difficult to connect this specific candle mold to its production. However, with fairly standard dimensions and uniformity in its creation, it was likely produced at a small-scale manufacturer in the Northeastern United States in the early-mid 1800s based on others of similar design and structure. 

Unlike their European counterparts, individualistic Americans were more likely to own and use smaller-scale tin candle molds. This allowed for residents to make their own candles rather than rely on someone else to create and supply them. Families would often have a stock of candles, although they were not burned unnecessarily, as everyone in the family knew that making more candles was a time-consuming process because they had the let the wax fully harden before they could be used. 

Paraffin wax hit popularity in the 1850s, as it burned cleanly, consistently, and was more economical to produce than any other form of candle fuel. However, paraffin wax has a low melting point. This led to stearin wax, which had a higher melting point, to overtake paraffin in everyday use when it became more widely available in the 1860s. The invention of the light bulb in 1879 led to a decline in candlemaking, as people now had electricity to light their homes and daily activities. Candles once again rose in popularity during the early and mid-20th century due to an increase in the production of paraffin and stearic acid as byproducts of the U.S. oil and meatpacking industries. Although people had electric lighting as an option, candles were seen as a traditional novelty item and used for special occasions, such as decorating birthday cakes or adorning Christmas trees during the holiday season. 

References

“19th-Century Red Earthenware Candle Molds Manufactured in Southeastern Pennsylvania and Western New York.” Antiques & Auction News, A&AN, 25 Feb. 2022, https://antiquesandauctionnews.net/articles/19th%E2%80%93Century-Red-Earthenware-Candle-Molds-Manufactured-In-Southeastern-Pennsylvania-And-Western-New-York/. 

Archer, Nicki. “Candle Making in Colonial America.” Pioneer Thinking, Pioneer Thinking, 25 Feb. 2023, https://pioneerthinking.com/candle-making-in-colonial-america/. 

Candle Mold. Tin, 1800–1830. The Metropolitan Museum of Art, JSTOR, https://jstor.org/stable/community.18434168. 

“Candle Mold Stake.” The Colonial Williamsburg Foundation, The Colonial Williamsburg Foundation, https://emuseum.history.org/objects/96014/candle-mold-stake. 

Fiske, John. “Candles and Candleholders.” Early American Homes., vol. 31, no. 6, 2000, https://doi.org/info:doi/.

“History.” Candles.org, National Candle Association, 23 July 2020, https://candles.org/history/. 

“Improved Candle Molds.” Scientific American, Vol. 6, No. 9, 1862, pp. 129–129. JSTOR, http://www.jstor.org/stable/24960288.

LeFevre, Dewitt C. Grand-Pere’s Legacy. Appleknockers, 1979. 

McGoldrick, Louise. Collections Manager, Historic Huguenot Street, Historic Huguenot Street, New Paltz, NY 2023. 

“Memorial Page for DeWitt Chauncey LeFevre (1903-1987) .” Find a Grave, Riverside Cemetery, 12 Oct. 2013, https://www.findagrave.com/memorial/118566065/dewitt-chauncey-lefevre. 

Nakaya, Rion. “How Were Beeswax Candles Handmade 200 Years Ago?” The Kid Should See This, TKSST, 2022, https://thekidshouldseethis.com/post/making-candles-america-1820s-video. 

Riley, Glenda. “‘Not Gainfully Employed’: Women on the Iowa Frontier, 1833-1870.” Pacific Historical Review, vol. 49, no. 2, 1980, pp. 237–64. JSTOR, https://doi.org/10.2307/3638901.

Walton, Geri. “Housemaids and Their Duties in the 1800s.” Geriwalton.com, Unique Histories from the 18th and 19th Centuries, 9 Feb. 2015, https://www.geriwalton.com/housemaids-and-her-duties/. 

The word “key” can refer to many things. A spoken password, symbols on a map, answers to a test, and letters on a keyboard or typewriter can all be called keys. However, I am interested in the physical keys that can be used to open mechanical locks. 

Modern versions of these types of keys include some basic anatomy that allow them to open locks: 

Figure 1: Basic Key Anatomy 

Locks and keys have been in use for over 6000 years, and have gone through many different styles around the world, including Mesopotamia, Egypt, Rome, and Belgium. Some sources point to Theodorus of Samos, a Greek sculptor and architect from the 6th-century BC, as the inventor of the key, as well as ore smelting and casting. Women in Ancient Greece carried bronze temple keys on one shoulder, while early Roman keys were mostly used as a status symbol for those who had property to protect. 

Figure 2: Ancient Greek Temple Key 

Figure 3: Early Roman Key 

Keys have also been used as symbols of many things. One example is the coat of arms of the Holy See of Rome. This emblem of the papacy used by the Catholic Church displays the Keys of Heaven, or Saint Peter’s keys, which refer to the metaphorical keys that open the gates of Heaven.  

Figure 4: Holy See Coat of Arms 

The goddess Hecate is also sometimes pictured holding a key. In the image below, it is in her left hand. Because of this, keys have, in some circles, come to represent witchcraft and Wiccan magick. 

Figure 5: Wiccan Goddess Hecate with Key in Hand  

Some people carry their keys on a circle cotter or “split ring” commonly referred to as a keyring. Invented in the 19th century by Samuel Harrison, keyrings can be made of metal, leather, wood, rubber, or plastic. 

Figure 6: A Modern Key on a Circle Cotter Keyring 

Spring hook carabiners are also a popular option for carrying one’s keys, as they make it easy to remove and add keys. Often times, at least one of the keys on one such keyring will be a master key, also known as a skeleton key. This special key can open several different locks. 

In addition to literally granting access, keys can be used as representational objects. By being a part of a collection, the item takes on a new life and meaning. In the past, wearing a keyring with many keys on it was a symbol of occupation and masculine status. A custodian, groundskeeper, hotel worker, delivery person, or stage manager might keep a set of keys that allow them access to many different areas. It also allows them to lock up at the end of the night, ensuring no one gets into someplace they shouldn’t be. 

Figure 7: A Collection of Keys on a Caribener Worn on a Beltloop 

With this in mind, many keys attached to metal ring or carabiner began to indicate independence for queer women, particularly in the rise of butch culture during the 1980s. Lesbians often wore these keyrings on a specific side to indicate sexual preference, and they became a shared language to signify sexuality, similarly to the communication of the hanky code used by gay men.

I’ve never browsed on a street full of closed shops before.

It wasn’t my intention when I drove my friend over to Water Street Market between classes on the dreary Tuesday of February 21st. Before we went, my friend was worried that they would have to stop back at their dorm because they didn’t have their wallet with them. I told them it wasn’t a big deal and that we would simply go browse—and that, worse case, I would pay and they could venmo me back. There was something really sweet about this simple message, and the unspoken, “I enjoy your company and want to spend time with you” did not go unheard. 

Upon our arrival, the usually bustling shopping center was uncharacteristically quiet. I’m not sure why I thought the local stores would be open at 11 AM on a Tuesday, but we were already there and decided to explore anyway. 

Our first stop was the Antique Barn, which I have visited many times before. I think of the gaudy earrings I have purchased there in the past and wonder if they have any additions to their collection of eclectic salt and pepper shakers. Are the overpriced jackets and random family photographs still there? Although we could not venture inside, they had a few overflowing bins marked, “FREE”. The conversation flitted around as we leafed through books and vinyls that had seen better days. There was a set of white and green drinking vessels marked as “Irish Coffee Cups” in worn elegant scrawl, a set of mismatched figurines of children singing or holding shoes or simply sitting there, and a stuffed animal of Alvin the chipmunk with the teeth nearly on his chin rather than on the thin black thread representing his smile. In my search, I found three books that piqued my interest: The House on Mango Street, a sequel in the Bunnicula series, and a basic Betty Crocker Cookbook. Among our repartee, I found myself clicking my alveolar ridge and chiding, “If they’re still here when we come back, it was meant to be” in a playfully maternal tone. We laughed and continued our journey empty-handed. Sure enough, they were still there when we passed the Antique Barn on the way back to the car. 

Although we were out in public, our excursion felt very intimate and private. On the other hand, when I was physically alone in my room I felt as though my every move were being watched and monitored. 

When I looked up “Thirftbooks” on Wednesday, February 22nd around 6:10 PM, I was greeted with a “Hi Sky!” under my Account tab and immediately brought to my online shopping cart labeled “Cart subtotal (0 items): $0.00 (USD)” along with a “Based on your recent browsing” recommendation subsection. After only a few seconds, my “Honey” browser extension flashed a popup telling me it had found two coupons to apply to this site—complete with animated confetti and a cheerful anprophomorphic dancing gold coin. After testing both coupons, neither worked. Even with adblock downloaded on my laptop, I was met with a bombarding of colorful advertisements vying for my attention: “You have 1 FREE BOOK reward available! Add any valid item under $5 to redeem. Continue shopping. Order any Collectible item and earn Double Rewards on each Collectible item purchased. Offer details.” “Your shopping cart is currently empty. Fill it up with some of out Best Sellers!” Overall, it was a very overstimulating experience, even on a site I love and swear by.

During this experiment, I wasn’t looking for anything specific. I did not have an immediate purpose and felt as though I had nothing to look for, and therefore my experience felt pointless and like a waste of time. I felt languid, bored, and even frustrated. No, I don’t need another copy of a book I previously bought off of the site—I already bought it! That means that I have it! Stop advertising it to me! I did find it interesting to look back at my previous orders, listed out by date with the number of items, price, and order number. It was a brief, but enjoyable, spark of memory. My most recent order included three items: The Hare with Amber Eyes, Frankenstein, and Crying in H Mart, which I found to be amusing and ironic. I took a moment to reflect on the novels I read for my Deaf Culture class last spring, the Ocean Vuong books I bought for myself as a special treat, the picture book I got for a project, the complete collection of Shakespeare’s Sonnets, and the Martin Yan cookbooks I bought my dad for his birthday after he got a wok during quarantine. The site tells me I placed this last order on 11/27/2020 at 13:20:36. Down to the millisecond. Seeing that I got it in November, maybe the cookbook was actually a gift for the holidays. I see that “The Yan Can Cookbook” was shipped out on 11/27/2020, while the “Martin Yan Quick and Easy” and “Shakespeare’s Sonnets” were sent out together on 11/28/2020. This is information that I did not ask for and did not need, and yet it was kind of fun to look through. 

I do think both scrolling and browsing have their place, although in terms of enjoyment I tend to have an affinity for the quick banter and playful energy of browsing. Scrolling can be more beneficial in terms of instant gratification and efficiency, but I think we have gotten too uncomfortable with being bored. Something that really stuck with me from my browsing experiment was the sense of purposelessness. In a society that expects us to work ourselves to death, it felt freeing to just exist and be unproductive for a little while. One of my suitemates has a quote that she likes to say that I think perfectly encapsulates my experience with browsing in beautifully simplistic terms: “We live to lollygag another day.” We do, indeed. 

They are fragile and dainty in appearance, unlike the feisty woman who wore them. 

I have now in my possession two letter pins: An “R” and an “S”, but also an “S” and an “R”. Each letter is curling and elegant; not quite cursive, but fancy enough to evoke visions of a wedding invitation or wax seal. The pins are crafted from a material silver in color and adorned with 36 and 23 clear gemstones, respectively. Each pin is just under 1 ½ inches in height and around ¾ of an inch across at it’s widest point, with a clasp and a sharp pin closure residing on the back. 

Ray Goldstein was born in the Bronx, NY in 1921. At age 18, she married Connecticut-born Irving Shapiro and became Mrs. Ray Shapiro—the strong, stubborn woman I knew growing up Her parents, Anna Rosegar and Samuel Goldstein, a tailor, were both from Vladavostak, Russia. Out of their 12 children, only 6 survived past infancy. My great grandmother was the youngest of all of them—their “little ray of sunshine”. She always hated the name. She thought it made her sound weak, although she still used it for her entire life. When she was growing up, children didn’t ask for things. They didn’t say, “I want this, I want that.” I was always impressed with how fiercely she advocated for herself and the people she loved once she was grown up.

Ray grew up in Manhattan, going to school and Hebrew school. Up until the end of her life, she always loved learning new things. As a teenager, she enjoyed learning about all different subjects, and especially liked reading books. In a phone interview with my sister back in 2015, she said, “I liked to be around smart people. They have a saying, I’ll tell it to you now. If you go around smart people, you become smart. If you go around people who don’t care, you become stupid! So if someone wasn’t smart, like a new girl or someone, I’d say hi and be nice to them, but I wouldn’t be their friend. You know why it’s not good to be around people who don’t care?” My sister filled in the blank here with a, “Because then you won’t care?” to which our great grandma replied, “That’s right. And then you won’t do well in school.” She was brilliant, and carefully curated her social circle. Even well into her 90’s, she stayed sharp and did not miss a thing. When she was still a teenager, she graduated high school, got married, and started working. I can only imagine how many degrees she would have earned if she were alive today. 

I do not know much else about her childhood. She was always very present in the moment, rather than reflecting on her history. She either didn’t know, or would not talk about any unpleasant things. From the few puzzle pieces I have been able to scrape together, I know she had a tough time growing up as the youngest child in a poor family. She did not have many material possessions to call her own growing up, so she began hoarding everything from her extensive teddy bear collection to extra tissue boxes stored away under her mattress. My family always talked about how Morris Shapiro—Irving’s brother—was like a brother to Ray, too. Morris was a Staff Seargent with the 381st Bomber Group of the US Army Air Force, and it hit the couple hard when he was killed in action on January 21st, 1945. Irving fought as a member of the US Navy who participated in the D-Day landings at Normandy. He was wounded while making a landing at Omaha Beach, and again while he was fighting in the Pacific Theatre. He later received two Purple Hearts to commemorate his bravery. 

As a woman, much of her life seemed to be defined by the men in her life. Most of the documentation we do have is mostly about the men who fought in the war rather than the wives who stayed behind. In the 1950s, she was a Clerical Worker in the Jewelry Manufacturing Industry. By the 1960s, she worked at the Empire State building in some sort of secretary or administrative position, possibly book keeping for an insurance company. We think she got the pins around this time. Throughout her life, she was always very fashionable and put together. It was too expensive to keep up with fleeting trends, but she created a wardrobe of timeless classics that would never go out of style. I have memories of her adorned in matching jewelry sets and colorful, fitted blazers. And, of course, her signature coral-undertone pink lipstick. Ray would never leave the house not looking her best, because you never know who you are going to run into. Much like her own physical presentation, she liked to keep her things nice and neat. Her storage bags were very put together and presentable, showing how observant and detail-oriented she was. These pins act as a synecdoche for her extensive collection of pins and brooches.

After 97 brash and stubborn years, Ray passed away. 

We cleaned out her apartment in the stale New Jersey resident’s facility. Her tchotchkes had been attempting to fit in with the extremely Jewish community there, and I somehow know that they appreciated the change of scenery when they were passed down to her daughter, Eileen. While she was still alive, Ray worked hard to make sure her only daughter was successful. She signed her up for dance classes and elocution lessons so that she could express herself and be successful. My great grandmother was far from nurturing, but she still wanted to provide for her family. 

Eileen Shapiro Rolnick had the collection for a few years. I don’t know for certain if she did anything with the pins, dangling necklaces, or showy clip-on earrings, but I would be surprised if she did. My grandma never really got along with her mom and doesn’t like to talk about her very much. Eileen does enjoy jewelry making and other artistic pursuits, but it is clear from her creations how drastically her and Ray’s styles differ. Her late husband, my dad’s dad, was named Stan Rolnick. This “S” is part of the reason my name starts with an “S”, and is important on both side’s of my father’s family tree. 

After a few years of collecting dust, my grandma passed on the collection to my Aunt Elissa Sherry Rolnick, so that she and her two daughters—my cousins, Sophia and Julia Cannilla—could go through all of the accessories. They agreed that everything was beautiful, but unpractical in our modern day. With that, they passed on the collection to my parents. 

When we dug through the large plastic bin, these pins immediately caught my eye. “S R”. Sky Rolnick. The, flip the order and they are suddenly “R S” for my great grandma Ray Shapiro. My parents believe that she bought these pins herself, although we have no evidence, no paperwork to confirm this. They very well could have been gifts. What I do know, however, is how important these initials have become in the tradition of our family names. Perhaps this is part of the reason why these specific pins have stayed in the family for so long, where others have been given away, gifted, sold, and donated. 

Sources:

Alan, Rolnick. Interview. 2023

Eileen, Rolnick. Interview. 2023

Laura, Rolnick. Interview. 2023

Normandy Trip Photo Album. 2008 

Rebecca, Rolnick. AP Literature “Sam I Am” Family History Project. 2015 

United States of America, Bureau of the Census; Washington, D.C.; Seventeenth Census of the United States, 1950; Record Group: Records of the Bureau of the Census, 1790-2007; Record Group Number: 29; Residence Date: 1950; Home in 1950: New York, Bronx, New

For this first assignment, I am describing my dragon pentacle necklace. My mother purchased it for me from the small selection of items on the clearance table at Dragon Realm on Main Street here in New Paltz. I have since replaced the fabric cord with one of nearly identical properties, but the pendent remains the same as the day it first came into my possession, weathered only by time, travel, and wear. 

The pendant is constructed of a thin flexible metal with properties similar to those of pewter. It is a light silvery grey, and reflects the light in patterns that dance on the slightly raised edges of the structures. When held in one’s palm, it is surprisingly light, as if it could take up in flight at any moment, yet it emanates a sense of grounded protection and strength. For the uniformed, a pentacle is a symbol consisting of a pentagram, shaped like an upright star, inside of a circle. This circle is 1 ⅛ in diameter. Each straight line of star section is just under 1 inch, and the dragon, when measured wingtip to wingtip, is 1/16th shy of being exactly 2 inches long. 

The points of the star are connected to the outer circle on four points, but the top point has a thin slice where it is no longer connected to the outer circle. The metal is darker at the points of overlapping intersection in the star design, while the outer circle is lighter in color and the most thin on the top third of the circle, making it extremely fragile and easy to bend back and forth with light pressure from the fingers in opposing directions. One can bend the star outside of the circle into a more three-dimensional shape, although the two thin scratches where the outer circle could easily break off completely become more prominent with each experimental push. I am thinking of gluing or somehow securing it soon, as I am afraid of the pendant breaking. 

The piece is cool to the touch, and carries an aroma of the musty “Witch City Wicks” scent “Holy Ground” of Salem, Massachusetts mixed with the smoky, pine-gilded ember air of “Dragonfire & Brimstone” perfume oil. Underneath this first layer, there is s slightly dingy, iron-y metallic scent. 

The wings are bat-like, and evoke a leathery, or perhaps scaly, texture despite their metal material. The wings curl upwards at the end in a proud display of flight as they complete the bottom third of the outer circle. The left wing (or the right, if we are positioned in a way similar to the creature), has a larger ridged spike than that of the other wing. The same spot on the other wing feels jarringly rough and sharp—though not enough to elicit any sort of cut or injury from feeling it—as though it once was adorned with a similar spike, only to have lost it from wear and tear. 

The head tapers down into a reptilian snout with two miniscule indentations that seem to mimic nostrils. Past the bridge of the nose, there are two darker depressions in the material where one would expect eye sockets, which lead to two gently curving horns and a raised back spine. The placement of the horn-like structures is evocative of where one might draw eyebrows on a more humanoid figure. The figure is positioned so that, when worn, the creature is facing downwards towards the floor (assuming the wearer is upright). The creature wears a somewhat placid expression—although I realize it can be difficult to read an expression without a lower jaw and therefore no mouth, a fact we have all become familiar with through wearing masks on the lower halves of our faces these past few years. The face is scuffed up with worry lines under the eye sockets, as well as other shallow indentations, adding to the overall structure and dimension of the intricate head.

When observed from a new angle, the entire piece is remarkably flat, and appears as though soaring horizontally, the head and wings dissipating into a remarkable side-profile of the rotund pentacle body. Only the head is raised, with the eye and forehead area tapering down into the snout. The bottom side of the head, where the lower jaw would rest if this creature had one, has a considerably large indentation. It is smooth, and allows the top half of the face to be raised on the other side. The cord of the necklace is laced through a small hole at the top of the pendant. When laid out end to end, it is 2ft 7 and ¾ inches. It is just about 1/16th of an inch in width, and is made of a black, slightly stretchy fabric material.

The cord is round, flexible, and soft to the touch, not unlike a worn rope or piece of twine might be. Due to its round and thin nature, I frequently refer to this type of necklace as a “lo mein noodle”. Each end feels slightly harder than the rest of the cord, and uneven in such a way that they may have been burned or singed to prevent extreme fraying. Despite this effort, there remain (or perhaps have come into being) some small fibers sticking out in random directions on the edge. Upon closer inspection, one can see that the cord is composed of many smaller threads that have been weaved or otherwise intertwined together to create a single larger whole. 

Fig. 1.1 Front view of pendant

Fig. 1.2 Back view of pendant

Fig. 1.3A Side view of pendant

Fig. 1.3B Slanted side view of pendant

Fig. 1.4 Pendant with full attached necklace cord