The Three Crosses: Lalibela, Axum, Gondar

The crosses of Lalibela are the ones people notice first: an interlaced lattice of diamonds and loops, no line beginning or ending cleanly, the whole form woven like the rock churches it is named for. It is the most architectural of the three — a cross that behaves like a building, full of doorways.

In gold, the lattice is pierced and edged with granulation, so light passes through it rather than bouncing off it. Worn at the collarbone, it throws tiny shadows. It is the cross of feast days and processions, and the one most often given at a wedding.

Axum is the oldest kingdom and the slenderest cross. Tall, narrow, pierced with a fine openwork rather than woven, it reads quieter than Lalibela — more line than surface. Where the lattice cross announces, the Axum cross simply accompanies.

This is the cross most often chosen for every day: light on a fine chain, at home under a collar in any city as much as over a robe in its homeland. It asks nothing of an outfit and gives it a lineage.

Gondarine crosses are compact and squared, their short arms edged with fine granulation — a geometry that feels closer to the castles of the city than to its churches. It is the most graphic of the three, and the one that sits best on a plain chain against bare skin.

It is worn more than the other two forms by men, often on a heavier chain, and it is a frequent baptism gift — small enough for a boy, serious enough for the man he becomes.

Most families choose by region — the cross of the parish a grandmother was baptized in. But plenty of people simply choose the geometry that keeps pulling their eye back. Both are correct. A cross worn every day stops being an ornament within a year and becomes a fixed point — the thing a hand finds without thinking.

If you are unsure, write to us. Tell us where your family is from and we will tell you which form the goldsmiths there have always made.