Origin Story
Imagine you find yourself wandering in a secluded spot. Maybe a cave, maybe a distant mountain top, maybe a dusty attic in an empty house in a strange city on the opposite side of the world. Let’s pretend that while you are exploring in this remote and unfamiliar place you find a box. It could be peaking out of a hump of leaves at the top of a mountain trail, half buried in the sand at low tide, or in a dark corner of that far-away attic. You look around to see if there might be an owner to this box, but there is no one. Closer inspection reveals that it has not been opened in quite some time. Maybe it has never been opened since it was first shut, you guess. The latch, which resembles no latch you have ever seen but seems obvious enough in it’s function, is rusted shut. A buzzy feeling of adventure and mystery surrounds the box like a fog. Upon lifting it, you discover it’s considerable heft and hear the objects inside shift with a soft metallic clink, clink. Long dried stories of buried treasure rehydrate themselves in your mind. The mystery, both savory and unbearable, feels precious in itself...
Already peering over your shoulder in anticipation of some unseen threat to your discovery, you think it best to bring the box home where your privacy can be relied upon. Once there, a screwdriver is employed. The rusty latch comes away easily and nothing stands between you and the contents of the box except the lid, which you now notice is covered with writing engraved deep within the dark wood. Not only are the words unfamiliar, but the letters are more like glyphs. The single bold line of unintelligible text runs nearly the length of the box, as if in warning. You are not unmoved, but you are not stopping. Perhaps you will find out later what the glyphs mean, but now you are opening the box.
The contents are immediately recognizable as jewelry, and your heart leaps up to high-five itself. The glint of metal is silver. Or is it? You spot something that might be gold and another metal, lustrous and dark, glowing from within. It takes no special sensitivity to art for you to literally gasp at the opulent and alien treasures stowed inside. One might imagine sapphires, rubies, and emeralds; faceted and sparkling as if in a pirate’s tale, but not here. Your secret hoard contains colorful tableaus of swirled minerals set in dark metal, as if small precious paintings of opaque stone whose value was determined by metrics other than carats or clarity. Larger pieces that might have been bracelets or arm bands feature detailed weaving in patterns that look to come from a graceful and complex tradition - albeit one that entirely alludes you. There are a series of vessels in the box, hung from chains as if to be worn around the neck. They suggest a genie may appear, but a tentative rub reveals no genie. The longer you look at the collection, the more perplexed you are as to its origins. The items are in almost perfect condition, although some bear the light scuff marks of wearers long gone. The embellishment speaks not of any known culture or tradition, but an amalgam of curious craft traditions and mathematical themes that suggest a people about which you know nothing nor can make extrapolations about. It is neither modern nor ancient, eastern or western. Each relic you take from the box feels as tho it might have served as the final talisman of a great love story, or perhaps house a great curse. You could spend hours examining the striking details and puzzling motifs, but the elation of your find slips a little, like a cloud crossing in front of the sun, and you check to make sure that you are still alone.
