Thursday, October 11, 2007

Separation Jewels

Brooch: Blair Smith.

There are engagement rings, wedding rings, toasters and parties galore when couples get together. But when you separate you suddenly have half the property, half the friends, distressed children (not true in my case fortunately) as well as a broken heart and ten million forms and paperwork changes to deal with. After being in a relationship for nearly 16 years, it is surprising how much lives become intertwined and pulling apart all the tendrils, emotional and practical, can be fraught. But worth the effort in some cases, including mine.

When the cracks could no longer be ignored and we were travelling in New Zealand earlier this year, I purchased a piece of jewellery, the choice of which must have come from the knowing and truthful
part of me, as my conscious mind was still stuck firmly in the sand of a relationship that we'd long grown out of. The work is by Blair Smith, renowned designer-maker who I'd worked with at Shed Workspace, Dunedin.

I chose the piece simply because I liked the composition and the strange poetry of its lines and construction. Laboriously handsawn from his own-made ingot it reminded me of Blair's attitude- never afraid of hard work. Heavy metal old-school industrial approach to construction fuses with a graphical intelligence switching between 2d and 3d forms. Like Blair, a bit rough around the edges but strong and true. Some tiny air holes revealed in the centre of the ingot where he'd sawn. Bold tool marks from the saw, file and pliers. Decorative scratched surface that is more about an aesthetic than construction. A strong springy pin and catch. Silver very bright and tarnish proof, though stamped 925 (925 parts silver to 1000 parts) - I believe Blair makes up his own alloys containing a much higher percentage of silver. That's how they do things in New Zealand.

Try as I might though, I could not find the pun he usually hides in his work that so often seduces the wrecker part of me. Al I knew was that I had a powerful emotional and visual response to the piece that just kept growing.

I still spent ages choosing between it and a few other shortlisted brooches and earrings as I listened to the conflicting voices of heart and mind. When I told David McLeod of Shed of my final selection, he told me something quite surprising. The piece actually says "9/10". Now that I know this it is hard not to see it. A reference to the old adage "Possession is 9/10s of the law" Blair apparently made it after going through a similar chain of events that I was to begin 3 weeks later when Wayne and I made the decision to separate. Suddenly I loved the piece even more although it unsettled me greatly and I tried to shrug off the strange set of emotions that were assailing me at the time.

Now the piece is cherished completely and along with David McLeod's unlit, dead and really dead matchsticks, the perfect jewellery to wear on settlement day- tomorrow.

It is not surprising that the separation of possessions should be one of the areas where many separating couples come unstuck and one of the areas we had to steer through carefully. Maybe because we are taught not to feel things directly but through objects, these become much more significant than the particles they are made up of. Or maybe we need these objects to help us to feel properly - in our unenlightened state they help us to work through our issues as we get to some truth or in some cases a story that pleases and bolsters the mind and can unleash all sorts of destruction and chaos.

Separation is a life passage that so many people have gone through before but also a transition that some discontented people spend a lifetime avoiding so I am grateful that I was able to get to where I am now. Sometimes it feels like a personal failure, society seems geared to keeping unhappy couples together for all sorts of reasons but mostly I feel proud of both of us and positive about my present and future.


Miss Dot said...

well done you. Very well written and I didn't see the 9/10 until you mentioned it! :-) I hope it brings you peace and joy.

shula said...

I commemorated with a tattoo.


Anonymous said...

you are inspiring, poetic and beautiful. I am so proud to call you friend. your strength and respect for yourself and those around you is evident in everything you do.
love macadame x

chiefbiscuit said...

Well done - this is beautifully written.
Thinking of you.

Rebecca-the-Wrecker said...

thanks for you support you are all such sweethearts.

Florence said...

I'm proud of you :)


Uschi said...

I love your post, it's really worth a thought! All these symbols...especially rings...for a happy couple. Way standardized...everybody can conclude from the first look: taken!
Your separation-jewellery is individual...your own symbol...
and beautiful, too!

Rebecca-the-Wrecker said...

thanks Uschi
you realise that it was made by Blair, not me...but what you said about the rings, makes me realise the the 9 and the 0 look a bit like unwinding rings too...freaky.

Uschi said...

..yes...I realised that....and again it's the same about rings: you normally don't make them for yourself ( baaaaaaaaaaad luck). Hehe, well chosen symbol: the unwinding rings!
Yesterday there was an announcement in our newspaper that a first "separation-fair" will be hold in our region to help people to deal with separation. You can meet lawyers and other related staff there...perhaps you could bridge a gap in the market with your idea ;)

Rebecca-the-Wrecker said...

a separation fair is a great idea - and refreshing change from all those ghastly wedding expos with the same old string quartets, cherubs , frothy frocks and tiaras. I can imagine a tattoo artist might do a roaring trade at a separation fair!

W J Kington said...

Hiya Bec, Wasn't sure if to comment on this one or not.

But why not? it is a superb piece of jewellery and a superb piece of writing. And a fair comment on our separation. Also you make an interesting case for the way we use objects to help us organise our story about ourselves.

In hindsight, there were many clues to the fall of our partnership on that fateful trip to New Zealand. It had a dreamlike quality, like something that had passed. I almost called the piece from French Pass 'the passing' but I thought 'the pass' would do as we had not at that stage quite separated. And listening to it now,at 5:30 you can just hear us speaking in the background, otherworldly. I might even be more explicit now about the story behind those NZ pieces on my blog.

I learned that sometimes in life things must pass. It is to our credit that we chose to let it pass without imposing our personal agendas, and so can remain friends.

Rebecca-the-Wrecker said...

thankyou wayne.
yes twas a difficult and dreamlike journey with plenty of signs and omens that i took care to disregard. so many things can be unravelled and understood in retrospect once the scales fall from your eyes.
the French Pass piece ( that you recorded on site is currently my favorite work of yours and strange that art and music can often cut through our busily occupied minds to a quiet truth that is. thankyou for the music and lasting friendship.