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It was fortunate that the beads had prepared me for an exotic background, for I stepped directly off West End Avenue into a little bit of Paris. Nadia and her elderly mother live together in large, quiet rooms where works of art are as much taken for granted as food on the table. Choice decorations and creations of their own are all about, and the day I visited a little girl just over from Paris was also a visitor. The charm of her shyness was augmented by the fact that her two front teeth were missing, and that she spoke only French. This last bothered the Sanzewitches not at all; both of them came to this country from Paris, and another of Mrs. Sanzewitch's daughters is a concert pianist there.

In fact, it was her arrival from Paris in 1924 that started Nadia on her bead-painting hobby. She was immediately invited to dinner with friends, and because of many recent expenses, she had nothing with which to brighten her costume. A basic black dress would do, but she needed something cheery. With a daring born of desperation, she went into a store and bought some wooden beads—cheap enough for anyone on the verge of being completely broke. That night at home, with some paint she happened to have with her, she worked over the beads, painting each one individually and with its own little design. When the paint was dry, she varnished them, then strung them on twine. They looked wonderful against the black dress. The payoff came when Nadia found her friends living in a tenement, broke as she; but the beads were the hit of the evening.

AS TIME allowed her, Nadia experimented coloring other beads, and finally arrived at the method she now uses. She buys unfinished wooden beads in all sizes—usually in lots of a gross or more, although some suppliers will sell them by the dozen. A quick look tells her whether or not a bit of sandpapering is necessary. Usually the beads are well enough finished so this is not needed, but an occasional bead may need extra smoothing; so it is a good idea to keep a piece of fine sandpaper handy.

A card table top serves as the Sanzewitch workbench, and there the fun of painting takes place. For this, Nadia uses ordinary tempera paint available in any art store. It comes in small jars and is water soluble so no thinner, turpentine or other material is needed—only a glass of water. Some colors Nadia uses directly from the jars of paint; others she thins with water or blends with other colors to produce unusual shades.

The first step is to paint the beads a solid background color. In order to handle them easily, and prevent painting her fingers and smudging the beads, Nadia impales each bead on a toothpick. If the type toothpick with tapered ends is used, the middle section is usually large enough to prevent the toothpick from slipping through. With flattened toothpicks, two are occasionally necessary in order to hold the beads firm. With a few quick strokes with a camel's hair brush, Nadia paints on the basic color, but because the color would smudge if the bead were put down before drying, a means of holding it up must be found. Nadia has several tricks for that. If she has modeling clay around, she sticks the ends of the toothpicks into a lump of that until it looks like some gaudy porcupine. Lacking this, she overturns a kitchen strainer and inserts the toothpicks through the wire mesh. Either way, the beads are held firmly until dry.

THE SECOND step is painting on the designs—most fun of all. When I asked Nadia where she got her designs, she laughed and said, "Oh, just out of my head. I suppose I came by it naturally. I was born in Russia and studied art in Paris—and they just seem to take shape under the brush."

"But what nationality are they?" I insisted. "Czech? Mexican? Scandinavian?"

Mrs. Sanzewitch chuckled in her corner and said, "Others have called them Italian and Polish and lots of other things. Why, someone even thought they were Indian designs."

"I don't really know," Nadia said, "except that they are peasant, and I suppose there is some sort of universality in all peasant art. Maybe that's the secret. Anyway, here is how I do it—"

And she picked up a dry bead and a tiny brush dipped in contrasting color. Holding the toothpick with the bead between the thumb and finger of her left hand, she twirled it deftly and made a complete circle around the bead.

"Takes a steady hand to do that," I commented.

"Just a little practice," she replied. "It is like making a line around a vessel on a potter's wheel."

I watched, fascinated, as Nadia finished one bead after another. She did a whole group at once, putting one color—green, for instance—on all of them, then rinsing her brush and starting with another color. One set was boldly painted in bright colors splotched close together. Others were done directly on the raw wooden beads without a background. My own favorites were pale blue with a delicate design of dark blue, gold and white. Some were pink, spattered with apple blossoms and gilt; some were swirled with brilliant gypsy hues.

The designs that Nadia puts on with gilt are almost like filigree, so delicate are the lines and patterns she follows. Tiny gold branches seem to sprout tendrils; a more geometric design forms a gilded cage for other colors on the beads; stripes are decorated with curlicues on either side. Wee blossoms, such as pink apple blossoms, sprout from a green branch or vine with petals the size of a pin head. With such small flowers there is no attempt at exactitude. They are just put on where too large a piece of background color shows through, or where they are pleasing to the eye. Other beads are more regular in their pattern, having stripes at definite intervals, or a geometric pattern of petals radiating from either end. There are rounds of crosses alternated with dots, of little S-shaped markings, of leaf-like designs. Where plain stripes seem too severe, Nadia uses wavy lines. As I watched her brush, there seemed no limit to the variety and beauty of the artistic devices she used. Finally, the last bead was done and left to dry in the sieve. I gave a reluctant sigh, and asked what came next.

"Next? Oh, when they are dry I have to varnish them," Nadia explained. "At first I had a terrible time with varnish, because it changed the color of the paint—or made the designs run. I thought I never would get the right kind of purple paint and the right kind of varnish together. But now I use tempera paint and Valspar varnish, and don't have any more trouble."

"That makes them washable," put in Mrs. Sanzewitch, who was just coming from a closet with a large box in her arms.

"It's really safe to wash them?" I asked. "They look so delicate—some of them."

"Heavens, no!" Nadia said, "Scrub them with soap and water all you want."

MRS. SANZEWITCH had sat down opposite Nadia at the card table, the box in front of her. "Now I'll show you my part," she said.

"Oh, yes, mother does the stringing—and that's the ticklish part," Nadia put in. "They look awful if they aren't put together right, and I'm not so good at that."

Mrs. Sanzewitch looked reproachful. "All it takes is time and patience," she said mildly.

She opened the box to reveal hundreds of unstrung, painted beads. As I exclaimed over them, she strung a darning needle with ordinary cotton twine and began to string them, looking over the ones already strung before she picked another, then appraising her selection after it had joined the others. Every once in a while she would shake her head, and off would come the last bead added.

There are a good many ways of stringing the painted beads, the most obvious being to put beads of one size next to each other. Sometimes one or more tiny solid colored beads are put between Nadia's painted ones. Other times, the beads are graduated, the largest being in front, the smallest in the back. Strings vary in length from tight chokers to long, waist-length necklaces that can be looped two or three times around the throat. Some consist of only a few beads in the middle, the long ends of the cord being covered with expert crocheting in matching thread. These crocheted ends tie in back in a pert bow. To match the necklaces, Mrs. Sanzewitch often strings bead bracelets, using fine round elastic.

BECAUSE THESE beads are truly miniature works of art, many of them reminiscent of illuminated manuscripts, Nadia Sanzewitch can demand a good price for her beads. The shortest strings sell for $3, and prices go all the way to $12 or $15, depending upon the length and intricacy of design of the string. Bracelets sell for $1.50 up.

At first, family friends provided the only market, and demanded beads faster than Nadia could make them; for they are slow to do, and Nadia, who had a regular job, could work at them only on a part-time basis. After the friend-and-family market was exhausted, she marketed necklaces at one time or another through Postman's, Saks, and Lord & Taylor.

In contacting large department stores, it is necessary to make an appointment with the buyer—in this case, of costume jewelry. Appointments may be made by telephone or letter. The method of selection by buyers is interesting to the novice who is not familiar with the procedure. Conducted to a large room, the craftsman is given a slip to fill out, listing his name and address, the name of the buyer he wishes to see, and the product that he is marketing. In a room whirling with activity, he waits until his name is called by a receptionist, and is then ushered into a tiny cubicle with a counter at one end, and a curtain to pull close behind him. There he awaits the buyer, who goes from one booth to another in a corridor behind the counter. As time is limited, the buyer will want to speak briefly and to the point. Important information is price, availability, durability, and the ability of the craftsman to answer any further questions. A "no" is quickly given. A favorable reply and an order may take longer, with requests for more samples, or suggested revisions in your product from the buyer. Those who do not live in, or are unable to get to large cities may do business through the mails. It is always wise to write to the buyer and be sure he is interested before sending samples.

GIFT SHOP selling is sometimes easier for the novice, and more appropriate for the craftsman who can make but a limited supply of products. As with the large stores, it is well to make an appointment, but this is not an absolute necessity. Sometimes it is possible to walk in "cold" and make a nice sale. In Nadia Sanzewitch's case, she was fortunate in knowing one or two gift shop owners personally, and had no difficulty. Indeed, they were clamoring for her to let them market her wares.

Nadia was forced to turn down one buyer who wanted hundreds of necklaces to supply peasant shops throughout the country, because she could not turn out the beads in sufficient quantity. Even with department stores, she sometimes finds she cannot keep up; so when her stock is exhausted, she temporarily stops selling through the store and markets the beads through small gift shops, such as the one in which I found them, until she has enough on hand to approach another large store.