I was proud of my first Ukrainian eggs and thought these works of art should be shared with others. Joyfully, I gave pysanky–a symbol of life–to my mom, aunt, and two sisters-in-law.
Tentatively, they took these “gifts” and asked, “Ah, what happens if they break? Isn’t the inside rotten?”
I reassured, “It will be fine. This is authentic art; just display them. The eggs are sealed in polyurethane, and their insides shrivel with time.”
My mom and aunt were skeptical and threw their “gifts” away after Easter. But one dear sister-in-law displayed her egg in the china cabinet. She ran a daycare center out of her home, with many children under the age of six. That July, I heard her yelling all the way from North Dakota to Cincinnati. Yes, the egg exploded one hot day, and its sulfur foulness sent the day care gaggle outside for a long time.
“Pooey!” my sister-in-law declared, when I jokingly offered to replace the egg.
The folk art of pysanky has been around for over 1000 years–that is, at least in Christian expression since Ukraine officially embraced the faith in 988. If you see pysanky art you may marvel at the intricate patterns, the shiny colors, the folk symbolism. Traditional Ukrainian symbols have Christian themes, and each color represents certain characteristics. The decorating
process sounds complicated, but it’s not. For a beginner, however, the batik work may take a couple of hours for one egg. First, one draws a design on the egg (the verb pysaty means “to write”). Then the crafter takes the kistka and presses bee’s wax into the tool’s tiny funnel. Next, she holds the tool over a flame until the wax melts. Carefully, evenly, and quickly, the wax is applied to the egg. Starting with a white egg, whatever areas the artist covers in wax will remain white. Then the egg is dipped in a dye (for example yellow) and more wax is added. Whatever area is covered in wax will now remain yellow. Then, the artist dips the egg in a darker color and repeats the process.
At first, I pressed too hard when applying wax, resulting in yellow goop and
broken Humpty Dumptys. This was disheartening, but it built patience. And with patience came perseverance, which brought joy when I carefully removed the wax on the completed egg. Wax removal is done by holding the egg to a candle and wiping off the melting wax with lots of tissues. Multicolored beauty lies below the gunk! I think a Ukrainian egg is symbolic of us—smoky wax covers our souls and then is removed with a gentle hand to reveal the beautiful art underneath—eventually and after all. Similar to many aspects of life, what we presently see is not the entire story.
My first attempt with Ukrainian egg decorating was to battle winter’s gloom and
overcome a difficult situation. Pysanky was good mental therapy. After the exploding sulfur incident, I learned my lesson. A loving friend and her sons blew out dozens of eggs to supply me with enough cartons for three decorating parties. We had a lot of fun–working, talking, and eating together.
Of course, if one does Ukrainian egg decorating with children the decorated eggs are quickly manufactured. I’ve seen a lot of polka dotted eggs and still keep a few around.
If you are interested in the adventure of pysanky, here is a good resource: http://www.ukrainiangiftshop.com/. This is a Minnesota, family-run business, and the staff has always been helpful. If pysanky is too much bother, you can still order a few wonderful dyes and have the best looking hard-boiled Easter eggs. Or, try pysanky anytime. A little perseverance with joy is a valuable gift.
It may be hard for an egg to turn into a bird: it would be a jolly sight harder for it to learn to fly while remaining an egg. We are like eggs at present. And you cannot go on indefinitely being just an ordinary, decent egg. We must be hatched or go bad. —C. S. Lewis