It was a cold, misty but luminous 8 a.m. when in haste and impatience I threw it into the river, the ring that was so heavy in my hand. It was a thoughtful gift from Afghanistan, yet in the last couple of weeks I had assigned all my misfortune and troubles to it. The thought that this was to blame grew and grew into a monster from its conception, to my extreme disappointment as a person of reason. Even to our own disapproval, we cannot help but often attach attributes and an aura to objects as we try to regain some of the lost control.
Tiny gods made of cloth, bone, coral, skin. I felt a compelling desire to cry when I entered the exhibition. A room so small, yet containing centuries of human sadness, pain and desire. Miniscule objects, so much more powerful than any king’s structure. Some gruesome, some exquisite, equally captivating with their imagined stories. East London or Egypt. Now or yesterday. Edward Lovett’s bizarre collection is mirrored on the walls, on Felicity Powell’s own magical works. An eccentric collection inside eccentric artworks inside this temple of eccentricity that is the Wellcome Collection.
I proceeded to the projections in the other room. A rotating figure, the rotating scripture, the rotating black scrying mirrors and another visitor howling, expressing all this grief and worry in the only way her condition would allow. I thought her howling was so appropriate for what I was feeling, too. When she left, I missed her. I realised I had to go back to work. Reason suspended: 50 minutes.
But do me a favour, if you catch the glimpse of my Afghan ring under Waterloo Bridge, please, just in case, don’t pick it up.
more info:
http://www.wellcomecollection.org/whats-on/exhibitions/charmed-life.aspx
http://www.ottawasun.com/2011/10/05/uk-museum-turns-on-charm-with-amulet-display
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