It began, as many significant endeavors do, with a serendipitous discovery. My great-uncle Silas, a retired clockmaker with a peculiar fascination for the minutiae of existence, bequeathed to me his entire collection – not of timepieces, but of buttons. Silas believed, with a conviction that bordered on the obsessive, that buttons held fragments of time, echoes of the lives worn by their previous owners. He meticulously documented each button in a leather-bound journal filled with cryptic observations, sketches, and, remarkably, a series of musical notations seemingly related to the button's perceived 'temporal resonance'.
The journal, penned in faded sepia ink, details Silas’s theories. He posited that buttons, crafted during specific historical periods, absorbed the energies of the era – the anxieties of the Industrial Revolution, the optimism of the Aesthetic Movement, the solemnity of the Crimean War. He believed a skilled hand, attuned to the subtle vibrations of the moment, could interpret these energies. This isn't mere sentimentality; Silas had developed a system of categorization far beyond simple material or design. He grouped buttons by ‘Chronometric Signatures’ – combinations of color, metal, construction, and, most bewilderingly, sound, that he claimed indicated the button’s ‘temporal displacement’.
Silas's system is, frankly, baffling. He categorized buttons into twelve ‘Chronometric Signatures’, each associated with a specific period and intensity of temporal resonance. The 'Crimson Tempest' signature, for instance, represented buttons from the Crimean War era, characterized by a deep, almost painful red hue and a discordant metallic clang, according to Silas. The 'Silvered Serenade' signature, conversely, involved buttons from the late Victorian era, displaying a muted silver sheen and a delicate, almost ethereal chime when held to the ear – a phenomenon Silas insisted he could *hear*.
He also identified ‘Null Buttons’ – seemingly unremarkable buttons that, according to Silas, represented moments of profound silence or void – likely from periods of significant social unrest or personal tragedy. These were handled with the utmost care, displayed within velvet-lined boxes and kept in absolute darkness.
Below you will find a representative selection of buttons from Silas’s collection. Each button is accompanied by a brief description based on his original notes. It is important to note that Silas's interpretations are, of course, subjective, yet the sheer volume and consistency of his observations suggest a deeper, perhaps previously unrecognized, connection between objects and the flow of time. Touching these buttons is said to elicit a faint, almost imperceptible, tingling sensation – a residual echo of the lives they once adorned.