The Story behind the piece
Usually a piece speaks to me during the course of creation, and the story grows as the chain lengthens. These two pieces, however, were a mystery to me, and I relied on the input of friends and loved ones to help me find their voice.
The first one, The Guide, has at its kernel those two words suggested by my husband. His context was different, but the name stuck and things grew out of it.
The nurses who worked at a hospital just outside of a rather unsavory district of London saw many things on a daily basis that haunted their dreams. Resources being short and practices being as they were in such times, many of their patients were released only to cemeteries.
One man, notable only in his complete lack of understanding of English, was admitted one evening, with wounds inflicted most likely in a tavern brawl. The doctor’s treatment was cursory, as it was obvious he was suffering from internal injuries beyond their means to treat. He was given a cot in one of the wards, and a prognosis of death before dawn.
One nurse, not yet jaded as many of her compatriots, sat with him as much as her duties would allow, bathing his brow and murmuring nonsense in a soothing tone. It pained her that he would die alone, uncomforted, in a strange land where he understood no one.
Shortly before he died, he pressed a fragment of a watch into her hand, saying only “la guida.” Nothing else, not that it would have mattered, but they were the only words he spoke that stayed with her, mainly for the mystery they presented. He had not identified himself upon arrival, and no inquiries were made after his passing, so she felt no guilt about keeping the remembrance. The nurse kept it at first in a pocket of her dress, but eventually strung it to be worn.
The second piece, Banish Misfortune, prompted a reminiscence from my friend cajunsblues about experiences he'd had in disassembling and reassembling an apparatus. The name is cribbed shamelessly from the title of a traditional Irish piece of music.
The least senior engineer of the royal airship H.M.S Banish Misfortune had the frequent and rather annoying habit of, after completing a repair, handing a piece of machinery to her supervisor and saying, “Oh, by the way, I had this left over.” The pendant of this piece is one such remainder.
In the instance from which this piece originated, unlike all previous others, it was determined that the equipment was now running more smoothly than before its repair. The least senior engineer was soon after reassigned to the galley, as it was determined that she was much handier with a skillet than a wrench.
This necklace was included in the packet that contained her letter of transfer, with a personal note penned from her former supervisor and signed by the entire engineering crew wishing her better luck in her new posting.
The first one, The Guide, has at its kernel those two words suggested by my husband. His context was different, but the name stuck and things grew out of it.
The nurses who worked at a hospital just outside of a rather unsavory district of London saw many things on a daily basis that haunted their dreams. Resources being short and practices being as they were in such times, many of their patients were released only to cemeteries.
One man, notable only in his complete lack of understanding of English, was admitted one evening, with wounds inflicted most likely in a tavern brawl. The doctor’s treatment was cursory, as it was obvious he was suffering from internal injuries beyond their means to treat. He was given a cot in one of the wards, and a prognosis of death before dawn.
One nurse, not yet jaded as many of her compatriots, sat with him as much as her duties would allow, bathing his brow and murmuring nonsense in a soothing tone. It pained her that he would die alone, uncomforted, in a strange land where he understood no one.
Shortly before he died, he pressed a fragment of a watch into her hand, saying only “la guida.” Nothing else, not that it would have mattered, but they were the only words he spoke that stayed with her, mainly for the mystery they presented. He had not identified himself upon arrival, and no inquiries were made after his passing, so she felt no guilt about keeping the remembrance. The nurse kept it at first in a pocket of her dress, but eventually strung it to be worn.
The second piece, Banish Misfortune, prompted a reminiscence from my friend cajunsblues about experiences he'd had in disassembling and reassembling an apparatus. The name is cribbed shamelessly from the title of a traditional Irish piece of music.
The least senior engineer of the royal airship H.M.S Banish Misfortune had the frequent and rather annoying habit of, after completing a repair, handing a piece of machinery to her supervisor and saying, “Oh, by the way, I had this left over.” The pendant of this piece is one such remainder.
In the instance from which this piece originated, unlike all previous others, it was determined that the equipment was now running more smoothly than before its repair. The least senior engineer was soon after reassigned to the galley, as it was determined that she was much handier with a skillet than a wrench.
This necklace was included in the packet that contained her letter of transfer, with a personal note penned from her former supervisor and signed by the entire engineering crew wishing her better luck in her new posting.