Russian immigrant Ilya Abelsky brings his collection of finely detailed miniature eggs to Las Vegas

Tuesday, June 8, 1999 | 9:22 a.m.

Where: Only Diamonds, 501 S. Rainbow Blvd.

When: 10 a.m.-8 p.m., Wednesday-Friday.

Information: Call Only Diamonds at 258-8700.

When he was 6, Ilya Abelsky was escorted by his parents to an art museum near his home in Leningrad (now St. Petersburg) in the former Soviet Union.

It was a visit that would help shape his life.

As the young Abelsky studied the various art displays he was drawn to exhibit of finely detailed miniature eggs from the collection of legendary 19th-century artist Faberge, who served as the jeweler to the Russian imperial family. As Abelsky approached the tall glass cubicle encasing the rare Faberge pieces, he pushed himself against a long gold rope used to keep visitors at a safe distance.

As Abelsky pressed forward, he was jerked from behind by the museum's long arm of the law and told to stay away from the valuable jewelry.

"I was offended," Abelsky said in his distinctive Russian accent when describing the experience. "I was not there to steal. I was there to observe and enjoy the work. I was fascinated by it."

Rather than become deterred by the episode, the now 10-year resident of Atlanta, Ga., found his interest piqued and imagination fueled. The son of an art critic at a Leningrad art institute, he began decorating regular chicken eggs at home using the most archaic means of design, such as the skin of red onions, freshly cut grass and the ink from various fabrics.

The skill has become his life's passion, and his hand-crafted miniatures will be on display in Las Vegas at Only Diamonds, 501 S. Rainbow Blvd., Wednesday through Friday. Termed by jewelry experts as less-costly Faberge imitations, Abelsky's miniatures are less than an inch tall, with sterling silver, 24-, 18- and 14-carat gold overlay and multicolored enamel. They are not direct copies, however, but rather inspired by the work of Faberge.

Distinctive art

"We wanted something unique, yet that was affordable to the average person," Abelsky said. "We wanted to create and market something with very intricate detail and craftsmanship, yet could be appreciated with the naked eye."

Abelsky and a team of a half-dozen craftsmen from across the country design the eggs, many of which are decorated with ornate clasps opening to tiny hidden treasures. Abelsky uses surgical-style equipment to craft the eggs and wears a giant magnifying apparatus that resembles a welder's shield to better work with baubles no larger than jelly beans.

This wasn't always the case. The youthful Abelsky began decorating chicken eggs under the tutelage of his grandmother, who taught him that wrapping the eggs in red onion skins and boiling them would both make them hard and colorful.

Abelsky would take the eggs to school, secretly, and pass them along to classmates as handmade gifts.

"I did not realize at the time that eggs were used as religious symbols, and during the 1960s it was prohibited by law to practice religion publicly in Russia," Abelsky said. "But it's also a symbol of love, or a new beginning, and when I was 11 or 12 I would give my eggs to girls as an expression of affection, all in secret of course."

Abelsky continued to grow as an artist, and by the end of high school chose to pursue art in college. He was rejected by an art college immediately after high school, but after languishing at a trade school for two years -- studying electrical communication -- Abelsky was granted admission to a nearby art school.

But there was a catch, courtesy of the Soviet government.

Payback time

"I spent five years at the school, and the government did supply the finances for my schooling and even a small stipend, or salary, because I was a top student," he said. "But in return for their investment in you for five years, you went to work wherever they told you for the first three years after college. Otherwise you would have to pay back all of their investment."

So Abelsky dutifully reported to work at a jewelry factory.

"It was the three most boring years of my life," Abelsky, now 41, said. "They told me to forget everything I had learned over the past five years and show up to work at 8:30 every morning and leave at 5:30 every night."

Abelsky said the cookie-cutter method of producing necklaces, pendants, rings and earrings was a metaphor for the restrictive cultural oppressiveness in the former Soviet Union.

"You cold pick up a spoon and the attitude was, this spoon has been this shape with a handle this long for as long as we can remember," Abelsky said, shaking his head. "There was no one to design a new, better spoon, with a different handle. You couldn't make the spoon itself bigger or deeper, because you were being told, 'This spoon has been a fine spoon for centuries and we're not going to take the initiative to change the spoon.' "

Seizing an opportunity

Abelsky soon received what he calls "a helicopter from God," to rescue him from his mundane career. When Mikhail Gorbachev came into power in the '80s, the entire country's attitude began to change, expand and welcome diversity within the Soviet culture. One of Gorbachev's first initiatives was to promote self-employment with the country's elderly population.

"Gorbachev wanted very much to get that part of our population to become more vibrant in society, both the elderly and disabled people," Abelsky said. "He wanted them to become self-employed and useful to society."

Abelsky seized the opportunity, persuading an elderly friend to embark on a partnership in a small jewelry business. The person served as an "umbrella," to satisfy the government program, with Abelsky working as the creative force and business mind behind the project. He invested 500 rubles -- or five months' salary from the jewelry factory -- in the risky venture.

"It was gambling," he said. "I had to buy tools and materials and I was already down several months of salary and I hadn't sold an item."

Abelsky had modest success at first, selling handmade jewelry mostly to tourists, and had managed to gain entry into some jewelry conventions in neighboring countries. At a show in Paris, he met with an American diamond broker who related sound advice.

"He said I had items that were very unique, different and attractive at a good price, but I could only be successful in America," he said. "He told me I had an attractive price (items in Abelsky's collection range between $89-$850), but the European market was the wrong place."

The trick, or obstacle, was making it to America. Under Gorbachev, that was possible, since he had allowed Russian Jews (including nonpracticing Jews such as Abelsky) to seek asylum outside the country. The idea was for Jews to be allowed into Israel, but once Abelsky flew from Leningrad to Vienna, Austria, he and a few other Russian Jews expressed interest in traveling to America.

Their hopes were brought to life by the international Jewish organization XIAS, which helped finance travel and housing in a refugee camp in Rome. After living under considerably modest means in Rome for four months, Abelsky contacted Jewish Family Services in Atlanta, which provided a grant to fly him to the U.S. in 1989.

"I showed up in America and I was scared," he said. "I was in the South and didn't speak enough English to even fill out a job application, and I couldn't understand the deep Southern accent at all."

Abelsky did manage to find employment, working at a gas station as a mechanic, making $3.50 per hour. He began taking English courses, attending two-hour classes five nights per week and saving his money.

Building a business

Becoming more comfortable with the language and more familiar with American culture, Abelsky spent the next several years improving his career status and financial well-being. He worked in construction, both as a laborer and engineer, then took a job as a manager of a decrepit apartment complex in Atlanta.

The latter position gained him a measure of fame in the city, when he took what amounted to a multiunit crack house and made it a clean, affordable, safe complex. He hired unemployed tenants, hopelessly behind on rent, to attend to general maintenance to pay off their debts.

Abelsky's final job before starting his own company was working as an assistant to the president of a textile company, where he learned about inventory and marketing and hitting the bottom line. Finally, in 1994 he started his jewelry company, I. Abelsky, Inc., and has since spent 260 days per year on the road, hawking his specially designed eggs at major shows throughout the country.

The company grossed more than $1 million last year. He and his six-man staff have amassed a collection of 2,000 items, all made by hand.

Abelsky's chief goal now is to slow down.

"It is very difficult, very tiring, to travel as much as I do," said Abelsky, whose wife, 12-year-old son and 5-year-daughter live in Atlanta. "I would very much like to find a partner with the same work ethic, vision and values that I have to take some of the pressure off."

That could take some time. Matching this man's energy and ambition won't be easy. Abelsky has grown into a Russian success story by living the American dream.

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