Artifacts

November 17, 2009 at 8:48 pm (healing, Rebuilding) (, , , )

Artifacts

From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

An artifact or artefact is any object made or modified by a human. In archaeology, an artifact is an object recovered by some archaeological endeavor, which may have a cultural interest. Examples include stone tools such as projectile points, pottery vessels, metal objects such as buttons or guns, and items of personal adornment such as jewelery and clothing. Other examples include bone that show signs of human modification, fire cracked rocks from a hearth or plant material used for food.

Burned Guitars

I won’t lie to you. There are still days of struggle. I have spent the last two years trying to figure out who I am since the fire. When I am working with the children writing songs or making art, or working as part of the stage crew at an event or festival, I am part of a creative process. I exist as is evident in the art and music that my senses are witness to. I am grateful for life-affirming employment.

But when I come home, part of me is longing for my artifacts, and they are gone.

I am not talking about clothing or cooking utensils I used to have, I am longing for the art and music I created. Some proof of a prior existence – my music awards, my Art Guitars. When I visit friends and relatives, I see the proof. Many friends and relatives still have my guitar pins and ornaments. My mother has an Art Guitar that we created together when she was recovering from breast cancer. For me, creating art and music, has always been how I make sense of the world.

I took a trip to Portland, Oregon this past summer to visit my dear friend E, who I had not seen in 10 years. On this visit, I met E’s daughter for the first time, and I was struck by how much E’s daughter reminded me of E’s mother. Then E said something to me that really hit home. She told me that I was one of only a handful of people in her circle of friends who had known her mother when she was alive. I hold memories that are precious to both of us.

The memories we share with our loved ones are perhaps not tactile proof of our history, but maybe in a way, they are artifacts too. Proof of a life.

P.S. I bought some art supplies

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