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Is it a love story? Is it a fur story? Is it an art story? Oh, all of the above, the meeting reveals as Betty sits there and talks about her Zuki, husband and furry partner. “I imported him,” she says with a smile. It all started 37 years ago when Betty took off on a quick trip to Israel and came back with a brush of love, a future husband and life-long career in fur. Zuki, then an immigrant without a job, naturally went to work for her father, who was in the fur business. But what kind of furs? The only kind of fur business the community was accustomed to: traditional, mainstream, brown, black or white. Nothing like Zuki was to come up with. That's where Zuki's youth and inquisitiveness came in. Now, he thought, if we can make black fur, we can make fur of other colours. Why not pink and blue and purple fur? Why not? He was to be met with resistance, but luckily, Betty's father was an accommodating man and allowed Zuki some leeway, and thank God he did. Zuki redefined what it meant to wear fur. He used fur as a canvas, and an ornament for the body. He did not see the tradition of the industry as one not to be tampered with; there was no line for him. His creativity knew no boundaries—which led him to the creation of INTARSIA. He was the first to envision and create fur like a puzzle, where pieces of individual fabric and colour are inserted into existing fur like a work of art. The result is a mirage of colours and textures, comparable rather to a piece de resistance than to a mainstream fur coat.
Not traditional, not expected, there is no limit to what can happen next, says Zuki. Who knows where the creative mind will take you? As it stands, his current collection incorporates both sides of the hide, resulting in two coats in one: One side with Intarsia or coloured fur, and the other—hand painted.
How do they deal with the controversy of fur? Well, the fur industry, says Betty, is one of the founding industries in Canada. And, it is strictly regulated. Zuki International values these regulations and feels privileged to exist among the very top innovators within it. Zuki is highly respected as not only an entrepreneur but as an artist. His work is shown across Asia and Milan, and there seems to be no end to demand in Russia where fur is now all the rage.
Luckily, this fur man was imported here and allowed the freedom to explore, "to be himself" in the beaverful land of opportunity; where he was able to take the fur industry to places it had not gone before, where he could move forward but also go back in time to fetch inspiration and ideas of old, back in the day where every surface was a possible canvas.
Zuki has one regret only. He wishes that he had had the insight to appreciate how fully innovative his concept of Intarsia was at the time. He wishes he had patented the process that has yet to be as precisely mastered by others in the field. Yes, he is the imported fur man still Zuki King of Intarsia.
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Written by Maggie Pagratis
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Who is the judge on bonuses? Who decides who is worthy of a surprise gift and who is not? All people work, and one person has to evaluate whether their work is worthy of praise and encouragement. Who is that person who ultimately chooses? Is it the supervisor? And what if he does not have a great personal connection to the one deemed not to receive a bonus? Does that mean that the non-recipient did not do a good job? And does this unfortunate non-recipient watch while the others, deemed to be worthy, receive their gift? Or is it kept hush-hush? Now, I don’t know, but it just doesn’t sit well with me. Here I am, visualizing the scene at the office: several people smiling and others just walking around wondering why some are gleeful that day. They, oblivious, are just thinking about Christmas dinner with their kids, grateful for the job, not knowing that there is some big hypocrisy circulating. “Hey, how much did you get?” whispers one to another. “I don’t know. I got nothing yet,” he responds and stares at the glowing face in front of him.But the gut-wrenching pain, the one of rejection, festers long after the Christmas vacation is over. And productivity is decreased, and that person (the one not on the bonus list) keeps longing for another job where he is appreciated, not humiliated by exclusion. I, myself, prefer to pay in advance. Performance always follows because you have essentially told your employee or contract worker that you believe in them, that they are worthy, that you value them. This causes them to want to please you, to go above and beyond the job, to make it happen for you. And suddenly, you find your business blooming. Why? Because of a measly bonus to all. The way I see it, it’s about perception. Perhaps what is a good job for one is not a good job for others. Your supervisor might have preferences or “favourites.” It does not mean it is right. It is a hard call. But I would tell my supervisor, “Divide it equally. Make them happy. Give before you receive.” I don’t know...maybe I’m a socialist, maybe I’m a Christian, maybe I’m just human. |
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Written by Maggie Pagratis
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When my cousin and I were small, we spent hours arguing with our Sunday school teacher. She kept insisting men were stronger than women, and for the life of Irene and myself, we could just not accept this. On principle alone. Though we knew what she meant, she did not phrase it to our liking, so we fought tooth and nail. “No, men are not stronger than women. Women can do...” And so it went. We made sure to articulate, at every provocation, all the ways that women were the stronger sex. We were 16, and it was to be our last year in Sunday school. We exasperated the poor woman, and to this day, I do not know where she found the patience to tolerate us, to not send us to hell. As life should have it, years later I was in her position. I became the teacher. Whom would I call upon to do selected tasks? Hmm...choices to make. Would I call the male or female students to carry the heavy viewing equipment, boxes of books and the like? I, not surprisingly at all by that point, picked the males—to the dismay of the girls in the class. I found myself explaining, “See, girls, women are smart, kind, have strong minds, BUT, male muscles are bigger. That is why I ask them to carry the heavier stuff. C’est la vie, just accept it,” I said till they knew it by rote.
Time passed and by the end of the year they no longer asked to carry the heavy materials. “Come on...guys...girls...anyone? Anyone to help...?” The boys were busy, and the girls were no longer interested in proving their equality. That day, I carried the end of year load by myself, with every ounce of Sunday school strength I had preserved. Selective muscle and my brain willed the body that day, over and over. There was no time to remember limitations. |
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