Moments: Remembered or Perhaps, Imagined.
Exhibited at The Blackboard Gallery November 2 - December 21, 2019. Now online.
The objects we surround ourselves with are significant. We choose them for many reasons: for practical use, to celebrate special occasions, because they spark a desire, or to represent our personality. All of them are written into the story of our lives.
We see these objects and often recall a moment; each object is a vessel for memories. And while we often equate memory with truth, memory is a fluid and changing thing, like a fishing tale where the catch gets bigger each time the story is told. Sometimes, memories can even become more imagined than real.
Moments is a collection of handcrafted fine jewellery with narrative elements and details designed to springboard the viewer towards recalling a moment of their own and imagining glimpses of a story. In creating these pieces, I let the impressions the gemstones made on me guide the details I added to further the story of each object. Accompanying each piece is a small written fragment to further develop the scene. Viewers are encouraged, of course, to add their own memories and imaginings to each piece, to create their own tales.
On the River
On the river, the sounds of the rushing, gurgling water swirled around me. I hadn't bothered to check the time; it was one of those summer days that seemed to stretch forever. The kind of day when, though you don't accomplish anything in particular, you still feel a sense of quiet fulfillment. Looking up through the leaves of the trees arched over the river, I could see the sky ablaze with colour and light, marking a glorious end to another day.
Rise
Rise up.
Tectonically pushing ever upward against vast forces, pushing down anything not needed. Move mountains if you have to. It will take time and effort, but you'll get where you need to be, even if that place isn't what you first imagined.
The sky isn't the limit. Keep going.
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Blossom
Slaves to time, the blossoms last only about a week; they won't wait for you. Be present and bear witness. They erupt in silent explosions, filling spaces with colour which before that moment held none. Their scents fill the air, instantly conjuring spring. Then, once the bees have frantically visited each one and their fitful buzzing ceases, the petals fall like riotously colourful snow. Walking through them as they fall, they gently graze your cheeks, a soft caress goodbye. It's a moment worth living in.
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The Gardener
The sun beaming down, warming your shoulders, little green things growing all around you. Always something to do and always something changing all on its own. It’s a 'work in progress' you say, knowing full well that it can never be completed.
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The Old City
You can see almost all of the Old Quarter of the city from here. The stone buildings stand resolute, unchanged for centuries. Were the night not so clear and crisp, modern lights and architecture visible in the distance, you might have lost yourself to another time.
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Ila’s Moon
We went to the lake after, in the night. In the wilderness, the darkness was truly dark. Only the moon, its reflection in the water, and the faint outline of the trees were visible.
She had been here countless times, surely. Late night beach campfires by the lake. Laughing, the smell of fire, and the particular feeling of contentment that only comes with age. We had never come here together, but I knew she had been here, seen this place, and felt it. She was all around, but here no longer.
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Sparks & Magic
One of my earliest memories of him is filled with fireworks. He bought them for New Years, and I had never seen them before. To a kid it was like some kind of magic: sparks and colour flying everywhere. I was dazzled. I was filled with wonder, and so was he.
He was always enchanted with explosions, the power of them. For all the years I knew him, you could hardly begin a conversation that didn't end with some mention of them. And every mention was filled with the same wonder. The magic never dulled with age. I'm grateful to him for the memory, for showing me that life is worth living when you hold on to wonder.
Let’s Go
I couldn't see because of the blindfold. This was, after all, a surprise. I could feel grass beneath my feet and hear people nearby, speaking plainly, but an unidentifiable, soft whooshing sound obscured their conversation. I tried to listen harder, but we stopped then, and my companion took off the blindfold.
Suddenly, I was dwarfed by an immense hot air balloon.
"Let's go!" they said. "It'll be an adventure!" Their smile beamed.
I grabbed their warm hand in mine. "Yes!" I said, and it has been an adventure ever since.
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