Thing: definition: a material object without life or consciousness; an inanimate object.
Things are easy, one day they are here, the next they are not, they can be expendable. Occasionally, time flows in the opposite direction, one day a thing will cease to exist, the next something we can touch, they come into being. The latter often the most true for the artist who creates form from emotion and experience.
Sometimes words are elusive and the ways in which we experience a world can’t be broken down into those most simple joinings of letters. An emotion might sit with us for moments, or perhaps years, a subtle needing to be expressed, or longing which presses on us. As hard as we try to get to the root of it, it can still be fluid and move in ways we don’t understand. Some days that might look like ease, others agitation. For me, the writing of this pieces experience wasn’t ready until now and it coming to form in its subtlety.
So, the thing is easy. To make meaning of the thing is what can be hard to express.
When first hearing your story I noticed a desire to imbue a life into such a tangible thing. The visualization begins and at first, the surface is smooth and dim, but as the words tumble toward me, it’s as if they pull shape and meaning from that surface.
A luxuriant tangle of wildflowers, rooted downward. They exist to pay homage to your home, your past, and what you represent. They rest opposite of words that are meant to sit nearest your skin. I’ve been told that these words often roll from your tongue. “I bea me and you bea you.” All part of a greater object, one is which those closest to you are also honored. Melissa, shows up in the form of a garnet. Mila a tourmailne. Sal is personified as an amethyst, Mimi a pearl. An alexandrite is the symbol of your being, sometimes representing purple, occasionally green. Nothing on this shape is meant to be perfect and nothing solitary. One element flows from one to another, such is the tide of this ride called human.
Thank you for this honor.