By Simon Burdge
Sketched at the British Museum, this drawing explores the symbolic power of ancient objects and the modern meanings we bring to them.
Sketched at the British Museum, this drawing explores the symbolic power of ancient objects and the modern meanings we bring to them.
During a recent visit to the British Museum, I was stopped in my tracks by a small carved figure made of amethyst. Its shape felt ambiguous—was it a figure gripping a sword, or simply someone folding their hands in stillness? I was drawn to that uncertainty and began sketching on the spot.
Later, while revisiting the sketch, it reminded me of an amulet—an object designed not just to be looked at, but to be held close, trusted, and carried—a kind of spiritual tool.
In the drawing, I used layers of blue and black ink, with energetic crosshatch marks and long brushstrokes to evoke a kind of atmosphere—a hard, ancient sky pressing down, or perhaps a protective energy pushing outward. The figure became less about the details and more about presence—a guardian, of sorts.
Then and Now: The Amulet's Role
In ancient times, amulets were often carved from stone or bone and worn for protection or used in rituals. They were deeply personal items—each one tied to a specific belief, fear, or hope. Amethyst, in particular, was believed to protect its wearer from intoxication, sharpen the mind, and calm the spirit. People placed these amulets in tombs, sewed them into garments, or kept them hidden in pockets close to the body.
Today, though we may not always call them amulets, many of us still carry such things—lucky charms, keepsakes, talismans. A stone from a beach, a button from a loved one's coat, a pendant passed down through generations. These objects carry stories. They help us feel grounded, connected, or reminded of something meaningful.
Between Silence and Strength
This figure, inked into my sketchbook, stands somewhere between ancient and modern. Is it meditative? Is it guarding something? Its presence feels both vulnerable and unshakable—like it belongs in a temple or on a bedside table.
I call it Guardian of the Amulet.
Whether it's a sword or a prayer—perhaps both—it reminded me that art, like amulets, can be small and powerful. It can hold silence. And it can have strength.
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