I’ve always been fascinated by the “Between” — those places that are neither here nor there, like doorways and tunnels and fireplaces. Places that sit between the now and the then, between the in and the out. These are the places where the veils are thinnest, where the past and the present meet.
I love the symbolism of these places that separate worlds and the memories, the tales and the folklore told about such spaces. The tales are often shared during long shadows or whispered at the times of day when the sun hovers close to the horizon and the fingers of things reach towards the light. They come from the past and are handed on like an object whose destiny is finally its own and is no longer entwined with that of its creator.
I would like to tell you about my house. It has some of these spaces, littered with objects which pass on stories. It’s a little wooden house, neither an old nor a new house, built in the 1940s by a Dutch gentleman for his wife and his daughter. It is a little wonky as the ground has moved and shifted over the years. The timber has warped a little and none of the structure is as straight as it once may have been. When I first bought it, my father crawled under the house to check out the lay of the land and came out with an old children’s leather shoe. “It’s pretty clean under there,” he said, “but I did find this, I should throw it out.”
“No!” I cried, having lived in Eastern Europe for several years I knew it had been left there on purpose. The shoe was well worn, flattened and dirty with age, infused with the good spirit of its wearer. That good spirit would help ward off any evil spirits that might try to harm the house or its inhabitants, and bring fertility and abundance to the property and its residents. It went right back under the house, and it remains there to this day.
Over the years we have worked on the house and we have found a great many things. Ink bottles buried in the garden, wish bones, and white stones above the front door. With each discovery I have done some research to discover the meaning behind each of the objects and why they might have been left there.
A few years ago, my partner and I pulled out the mantel piece to do up the fireplace and replace the timber at the top. We found some coins dated to the year that the mantle was installed and we added some of our own, dated to the year of the renovation. Along with the coins, we added some photos of the house as it was when I bought it, and as it is now. I hope whoever decides to work on the space next enjoys these finds.
The soft faded colours of the artwork and the ephemera Sara has chosen to create her images are bittersweet and took me on a tour of the places in my past where my memories are a little faded but have become more precious. I have come to realize that my stories, as well as some of my possessions, will find their own destiny after I am gone.
