What it takes to be a jewellery historian

Behind the scenes of independent research

Published January 2, 2026

I thought I’d share a bit of real talk about life as an independent researcher – the part that is not often addressed because it is, in all honesty, not that glamourous. However, over the course of several talks with fellow self-employed specialists with similar experiences, I found that this is also the part that actually might need spelling out.

And so this once, I’m going to do just that.

I’m not employed by a university or museum: I work independently, which means I fund all of my research myself. That’s the unglamourous part right there. So how does that actually work? Let me take you behind the scenes into the nitty-gritty of the work!

Why I’m an independent researcher

I’m an independent researcher because this field is my passion, there aren’t all that many curatorial or lecturer positions at museums or universities available, and I believe I a have a useful contribution to make. That’s the simple truth of it. I chose this, and I love it.

Because I work independently, I don’t have an employer, which has lots of benefits, but also means I don’t receive a salary. I’m self-funded – in the most literal sense of the word. All research, travel, writing, and website maintenance is paid for out of my own pocket. 

Being an independent researcher in my case means running a business, with all the administration, responsibilities, and costs that come with it.

I’m breaking that down for you here, so you’ll get a feeling of how my work (and that of other self-employed specialists) operates.

The hidden costs of jewellery research

What does being an independent researcher mean financially? Here is what I spend resources on.

Let’s start with the very blog you’re reading. Keeping this website and the online course platform running costs, all-in, a substantial amount per year. Simply being visible online and having your infrastructure in place comes with its own baseline costs.

Then there’s travel: visiting exhibitions, or attending conferences all require resources. That’s not just the conference fee or exhibition entrance fees, but also hotels and transportation. I love conferences: it’s always great to meet new people, see old friends, and exchange ideas and knowledge!

Another ongoing investment is my own reference library. Over the years, I’ve built a significant collection of jewellery books and articles – and that continues to grow. With so much AI-generated content swirling around online these days, I find it important to turn to actual books: they offer depth and context that you will not find as easily online.

Side note: contrary to what some might assume (and a few people even have told me outright), reviewing books for this blog isn’t a budget-friendly way to expand that library! In fact, it ties directly into the biggest investment I make in my work: time.

Why time is my most valuable asset

Time is the one resource I need for everything I do. Researching, writing, creating courses or social media content: all of that takes hours, days, even weeks. 

Researching and writing a blog article, including creating the images to go with it, can take up to 3-4 hours. That’s because I include references and want to make sure you get solid information on jewellery. Compiling my monthly Newsletter (subscribe here if you haven’t already!) takes up half a day. The absolutely lovely feedback I receive after each and every emailing tells me that that is time well spent!

However, it’s time I can’t spend elsewhere earning an income.

That is, by the way, why I’m always surprised when asked to give a talk or consultation for free. I truly love sharing knowledge, as you know, and I do my best to keep much of it accessible – but just like everyone else, I have my housing to pay, groceries to buy, and the heating bill to cover. If I could pay my mortgage by delivering a talk at my local bank office…well, let me just say there’d be a lot of jewellery-savy bankers out there by now!

The same goes for book reviews. Receiving a review copy is always a joy: opening the package, flipping through fresh pages, and diving into a new publication is truly exciting. I adore books! But make no mistake: it’s also work. Reading a book with a reviewer’s eye, placing it within the wider field of jewellery studies, and writing a thoughtful, contextual review can take several days.

Long story short: what you see on the blog is the final stage of quite a bit of unseen work behind the scenes. The same holds true for, for example, performers: you don’t see the amount of time spent practicing, studying, inspecting and mending outfits behind their flawless performance.

The hidden costs of talks

That unseen work behind the scenes is also applicable to talks and lectures. Let’s pick that apart, too, because the amount of work for a talk behind the scenes is not always immediately apparent.

A talk does not begin and end with the hour spent speaking. For in-person talks for example, the travel time to and from the venue may be substantial and take me a full day, even in a tiny country like mine.

Preparing a lecture, especially when it is built from scratch, takes multiple days of research, writing, and assembling a carefully structured slide deck. I don’t just slap some pictures on a slide and be done with it: I want the audience to really enjoy the talk.

So, when you book me (or any independent researcher) for a talk, the fee may seem high for a single hour at a podium, but is below minimum wage for the full working week behind the scenes needed to prepare. That’s the reality of working in the humanities – if I were in tech or sports, I suppose no one would blink twice if I charged the actual time involved.

I think it’s necessary to be honest about the amount of work that goes into preparing a talk, not only to you, but also to ourselves as humanities scholars: if you’re reading this as a speaker and it resonates with you, it’s time to acknowledge that presenting a talk is not something you just wiggle in the rest of your workload.

No grants, no salary: how do I fund my work?

I cover part of these costs through my online courses, which make an important contribution to keeping this work going. If you have taken one of them: thank you so much, honestly!

In addition, I work on commissioned research, such as inventorying and correctly describing museum collections, or writing a dedicated article or book.

Bookings for talks and courses are also a valuable source of support, but, as I explained above, the fees do not cover the actual amount of time involved.

Besides, and that’s another thing you might not think of in the first place, there’s this little thing called taxes. That fee I charge for a talk or a consultation? Nearly half of that goes to income taxes. Unglamourous, I know.

Why I’m sharing this, and how you can help

Why am I sharing this with you?

Not to complain – far from it. I chose this path, I’m proud of what I’ve built, and I love what I do.

Being an independent researcher doesn’t mean swanning around amidst sparkling jewellery.

It means working hard to respectfully study, share, and preserve cultural heritage through careful research and teaching. There is a lot of Orientalist mythmaking out there, and a surge in AI-generated content not necessarily based in facts, so I will continue to do my best to serve you human-researched, factually sound information on jewellery history.

If you’ve found joy, inspiration or insight in my blog articles, Newsletter, or social media content, and would like to support me in other ways than by enrolling in a course, you can do so directly through this link.

Every contribution – big or small – helps to keep the research going and the blog running.

That’s the unglamourous part of being an independent researcher: I hope this peek behind the scenes has given you some insight in the realities of what a jewellery historian does, besides looking at jewellery!

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Find out more about the meaning of personal adornment in the e-courses!

More posts on jewellery and adornment? Browse them all here!

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The Bedouin Silver blog gives credit where credit is due! Transparent referencing and citing sources helps us all grow. Would you like to do the same and quote this article? Here’s how:

S. van Roode, [write the title as you see it above this post], published on the Bedouin Silver website [paste the exact link to this article], accessed on [the date you are reading this article and decided it was useful for you].

Arabic kohl history and tradition

Arabic kohl and its material culture: UNESCO recognition

Published December 12, 2025

Kohl eyeliner has just been recognised as UNESCO intangible cultural heritage.

In December 2025, kohl was inscribed on the UNESCO Representative List of the Intangible Cultural Heritage of Humanity. That is hugely significant, because it recognises the importance of the heritage of adornment. Like henna, which I wrote about in an earlier blog, kohl is much more than a beauty product: it is a practice, a tradition, and a form of expression. So, let’s take a closer look kohl, and what its material culture can tell us about beauty, identity and memory!

Why did UNESCO recognise Arabic kohl as intangible cultural heritage?

First, let’s look at what the World Heritage inscription actually says. The UNESCO description highlights the multi-layered role of traditional kohl in Arab societies:

‘Arabic Kohl is both a craft and a social practice that is integral to the lifestyle of Bedouin and nomadic tribes, as well as rural, marshland, and fishing communities in the Arab region. It is a fine black powder used as eyeliner by people of all genders, serving not only as a cosmetic but also for protection against wind, sand and sunlight. A part of everyday life, special occasions and religious rituals, it is made from natural ingredients, with the preparation varying according to local environments and lifestyles. Kohl is made either at home or in gatherings, mostly by women, who transmit the related knowledge and skills to their daughters and granddaughters. Arabic kohl is typically stored in decorative containers called ‘makhala’, which are often passed down as family keepsakes. The practice is also transmitted through oral traditions, community events, schools and cultural institutions. In addition to being a symbol of community identity and a key part of daily beauty routines, kohl is used as a physical and spiritual healing remedy. It promotes dialogue and fosters meaningful exchanges between nations and communities of women. Kohl-rimmed eyes also serve as a strong form of female expression, particularly in societies where only eyes are visible due to face coverings.’ [1]

This powerful recognition shows that Arabic kohl is a living, breathing tradition. It’s about the how, not just the what. Like henna, the art of applying kohl is not just make-up or beautification. It’s a system of knowledge passed on through generations.

Which countries submitted the nomination for kohl as intangible heritage?

The nomination for kohl as intangible cultural heritage was submitted by a number of countries: Iraq, Jordan, Libya, Oman, Palestine, Saudi Arabia, Syria, Tunisia, and the United Arab Emirates.

Although these are the nations that submitted the nomination, I’d invite you to bear in mind that the practice of kohl exists in a much wider region and in many different forms. The practice of kohl is also not limited to Arabic communities, but is part of many other cultures, too.

Just one example: the oldest form of kohl known to date comes from ancient Egypt, where eye make-up palettes appear at the end of the 4th millennium BCE. Egypt, however, is not among the countries that submitted the nomination of this cultural heritage – that does not automatically mean kohl doesn’t exist in Egypt. That is not what this inscription on the Intangible Cultural Heritage list claims: it is a recognition of a living cultural practice, and in this case, the scope has a narrower geographical reach than that of the actual practice itself.

(but with that long history of kohl, I was personally surprised to see Egypt did not join the nomination)

Kohl as a living tradition

Kohl, obviously, is not a thing of the past, but a living practice. If you have ever visited anywhere in North Africa or Southwest Asia, you’ll have seen it on offer and in use. The recipes vary widely, but the basic goal is the same: to create a smooth, fine black powder. This could be made from something as simple as burnt charcoal, lamp black or pot soot (sarral kohl) or more specialised substances like antimony or galena (athmad kohl).

Application methods of this powder also varied: from saliva and water for everyday use, to rosewater and orange blossom water for more luxurious occasions. In some traditions, aromatic resins such as burnt ambergris, frankincense or ‘ūd (aloeswood) were added to the mix.

The material culture of kohl: containers, adornment, and meaning

Where there’s kohl, there’s a container [2]. These are generally called makhala, and the needle used to apply kohl to the eyes is known as merwad. That’s the same word used for the needle to apply perfumes: merwad means stick, needle.

Besides practical containers, makhala are very important in ceremonial use. In Beit Dajan, Palestine, brides would dance on their wedding while holding their kohl container: person, adornment, social status and object are one and the same.

Elsewhere, kohl was a popular gift from pilgrims returning from the Hajj. This was antimony kohl (athmad) mixed with water from the ZamZam well. Their function here extended beyond cosmetics: they combine religious concepts of purity and cleanliness with adornment.

How kohl containers reflect local values

The form, decoration and materials of kohl containers vary across the region. In some areas, they belong more to the realm of jewellery, made of silver or copper, and intended to be seen. I’ve written about similar practices in Afghan vanity sets in this blog.

They may even have gendered distinctions: men do not generally wear adornment, but kohl is worn by men, women and children. Men, too, had to carry their kohl containers on their person. In those cases, the containers took the shape of masculine attributes: silver bullet-shaped containers or versions of gunpowder horns. That is not to ‘hide’ the fact that men use make-up: kohl containers simply take the form best suited to their wearer.

In other regions kohl containers are part of dress and costume, the container itself covered in fabric. By studying the decoration of these containers and comparing them to regional jewellery styles, we begin to see where these objects fit into personal adornment. Were they worn on a person? Displayed in the house? Kept in private, away from prying eyes? These questions help us understand what these containers meant to their users.

Kohl as identity, resistance and care

While kohl enhances beauty, it also has protective and healing roles, both natural and supernatural. Natural ingredients such as antimony were considered to strengthen and purify the eyes. It also protected against evil spirits, and applying it is an act of purity and cleanliness in itself. This ties into a wider tradition where adornment is protective as well as decorative. If you have been following this blog for a while, you know that is a theme that recurs across jewellery, scent, textiles, body aesthetic and more!

Kohl: a world heritage of adornment

Kohl’s inscription as World Heritage is a recognition of an ancient practice. And as with henna, recognising kohl as intangible cultural heritage brings attention to the people who keep these practices alive: the women who prepare it, apply it, teach it, and wear it. Because heritage is not just objects: the objects are only the material component of something much larger.

Kohl and its containers form part of an entire system of knowledge, care, expression and identity: if we look at them as one component in a network of beliefs, actions and objects, we learn so much more!

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Find out more about the meaning of intangible personal adornment in the e-courses!

More posts on jewellery and adornment? Browse them all here!

Join the Jewellery List and receive new articles, jewellery news and more in your inbox!

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References

[1] See the UNESCO inscription here https://ich.unesco.org/en/RL/arabic-kohl-02261

[2] See Paint it, Black by Jolanda Bos (2019): the only book to date with an extensive overview of kohl containers from past to present.

The Bedouin Silver blog gives credit where credit is due! Transparent referencing and citing sources helps us all grow. Would you like to do the same and quote this article? Here’s how:

S. van Roode, [write the title as you see it above this post], published on the Bedouin Silver website [paste the exact link to this article], accessed on [the date you are reading this article and decided it was useful for you].