In this blog article, recent intern with the Collections Department Katrin Zimmermann shares her research on a Yemini Labbeh held at the Pitt Rivers Museum. Katrin is a jeweller and postgraduate researcher in material culture. Her work explores the politics of adornment, diasporic craft traditions, and the afterlives of ornament.
PRM Accession Number: 2023.31.1
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When I first encountered this object in the collection at the Pitt Rivers Museum, I did what I always do when faced with a new piece: I picked it up. Not just to observe, but to read. My hands traced its seams and felt its weight, in grams and in meaning.
This piece, donated to the museum in 2022 (though collected before 2017), isn’t a showstopper in terms of craftsmanship. It’s rough in places, uneven. But it's also deeply expressive: a piece shaped by history, adapted across borders, and—most notably—made to be heard.
Listening to the Object
It’s a neck or forehead ornament. The distinction blurs across cultural contexts, and that ambiguity is part of its charm. Structurally, it’s made up of three large and four smaller cast plaques, joined by figure-eight wire links. There is a green velvet ribbon attached to one of the triangular terminals, and 24 pendants once dangled from the lower edge, though one is now missing. These would have chimed when worn—not just decorative sound, but protective sound.
The glass cabochons set in each dangle—nine red, six green, five blue—are now dulled with age, and three are lost entirely. Still, you can imagine the piece in when it was new: glittering, rhythmic, resonant.
A Familiar Form: The Yemeni Labbeh
The ornament is one of a style of Yemeni bridal jewellery known as the labbeh. These were worn by both Jewish and Muslim married women across Yemen for festive occasions—as necklaces by Jewish women, as a forehead piece by Muslim women. They were made from Hajja and Saada in the North to Ibb and Taiz in the South (1).
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The design elements—the cast plaques, figure-eight connectors, rows of coin pendants, and triangular terminals—are all hallmarks of this form. The coins themselves are Pakistani denominations, rather than the Maria Theresa thalers dating to 1780 typically seen in older Yemeni jewellery. Their presence suggests regional movement and hybridisation—stylistically, economically, and perhaps spiritually.
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Rough Workmanship, Rich Context
From a technical standpoint, the piece reflects a limited toolkit. The plaques are cast but not fully cleaned; the pseudo-granulation in the triangular terminals appears to be wire roundels, not true granules. But this doesn’t diminish the object’s interest. On the contrary—it tells us something about continuity and adaptation. This is jewellery made in transition: between regions, between communities, for someone who knew their purchasing power and still wanted the full labbeh. However, labbeh necklaces were often made in lower-grade silver, or even base metal, as it needed additional strength to support all the pendants and coins.
It’s also a reminder that historical jewellery was rarely static. Pieces were worn, repaired, altered, and reused. Coins were added or removed. Glass replaced lost stones. There’s a kind of quiet resilience in such objects.
Jewellery as Currency, Covenant, and Care
In many Islamic cultures, and particularly in Yemen, bridal jewellery was more than ornament. It was part of the marriage contract—a form of portable wealth legally owned by the bride. It could be worn, sold, or melted down in times of need.
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There’s also a shared history worth noting: for centuries, the production of Yemeni silver jewellery was largely carried out by Jewish silversmiths. Artisans such as Harun Bawsani and Yahya Badihi became known for their exceptional filigree and granulation work. After the 1949–50 exodus of Yemen’s Jewish community during Operation Magic Carpet, many Muslim artisans continued the tradition, sometimes replicating older styles, sometimes adapting them. The result: a fascinating dialogue between continuity and change.
This may not be a high-value example, featuring the workmanship of Harun Bawsani and the heavy silver thalers so coveted in the region, but it has its own integrity. Its sound—gentle, percussive, persistent—still lingers in the imagination. And in that way, it does what the best jewellery does: it connects.
By Katrin Zimmerman, jeweller and postgraduate researcher in material culture.
References
(1) See Ransom, Marjorie. Silver Treasures from the Land of Sheba.
Further Reading
Ransom, Marjorie. Silver Treasures from the Land of Sheba. Cairo: American University in Cairo Press, 2014.
Walters Art Museum. Diadem and Dagger: Jewish Silversmiths of Yemen. Baltimore: Walters Art Museum, October 27, 2012- January 21, 2013.
Wagner, Mark S. Jews and Islamic Law in Early 20th-Century Yemen. Indiana University Press, 2015.
