The floor feels uncomfortable today as I drag my feet to another shiny glass box with a pristine white pedestal inside.
I’ve forgotten my glasses so the brown blurry blob becomes sharper with each step closer
It’s a bird.
I stop moving and study the object.
The rough stone back is coloured like the earth. Within a vibrant exhibition, this little ceramic bird stands out, it’s colours are muted, quieted, but with one still orange eye. I feel like it watches people, flowing in and around the exhibition, as they make their way over to beautiful coloured rugs or tapestries. It sits here quietly, looking, waiting for someone.
It’s beak is like old moss, resting closed, it hasn’t spoken in years.
I stand, mimicking the bird, stone still, waiting for it to blink, flick it’s head around and look at me, as if to say:
“What are you doing here?”
Text by David Paulin