Sound as a sacred key. Clay as a vessel of memory. Thresholds that respond to vibration.
There is a moment in ritual—just before the veil lifts—when the air begins to shimmer. It’s not always seen, but felt, like the hush before a storm or the pause between inhale and exhale. This is where sound becomes the key. The rattle, ancient and bone-deep, does not just make noise—it moves it. It stirs the invisible. It breaks the crust of everyday consciousness and calls the subtle back to attention.
These new rattles were born from that place—where thresholds thin and seamlines between worlds pulse with possibility. Each one holds a particular rhythm, a coded vibration, shaped through intention and the raw language of clay and fire. When shaken, they don’t just speak—they open. They open memory, dream, direction. They open space. Not with force, but with invitation.
One of the most potent pieces in this new series carries the carved forms of the vulture and the serpent—symbols drawn from the ancient stones of Karahan Tepe, one of the oldest ceremonial sites in the world. The vulture, long associated with sky burial and the release of spirit, arcs above the coiled serpent, guardian of the earth’s memory and the winding Milky Way. Together they form a vertical axis, a living staff between worlds. When this rattle is sounded, it doesn’t just call the spirits—it remembers them. It echoes the initiatory path of the shaman, moving between sky and soil, death and renewal, through the sound that stitches all worlds together.