Now, I’m gonna say up front, I’m no visual artist. I can’t paint sculpt, or any of that other stuff that goes on in these studios my friends all seem to have. But, I’ve got something they don’t. I’ve got the power of words. I can take their pictures and make whole stories about it, give the people in the marble a past, a future, hopes dreams, things to lose. But, I can’t make something beautiful that people can touch. My hands just don’t have the talent.
But, despite the fact that I practically failed play-dough in kindergarten, I could tell that this piece Jordan was working on was special. It was a metal sculpture. Wings of all shapes and sizes, delicately feathered and set in sparkling aluminum. In a funny way it looked like that “modern art” you see in museums. It made me think that the magic carpet from Aladdin had a one-night stand with Hermes’ shoes and this is what you got nine months later. But, it was so beautiful. The wings all together, all tangled together, stretching out, reaching for something... This piece has secrets, these wings had been places, they had been in adventures. It made me want to climb in among the straining feathers and go for a ride, just to see where it would take me. If only I could write those stories, make people feel those things in words, I’d be the worlds’ best novelist.
“Do you like it?” Jordan asked.
“I love it. What’s it called?”
“I haven’t thought of a name for it yet. You’re good with names and stuff, what do you think?”
“Magic Carpet of Aluminum Wings.” I said.
Jordan laughed. “That sounds kinda corny, but in a creepy-cool way. I like it. “
