Night One; The Egg
Fall 2024
Ash, Ceramics, Sterling Silver & Mild Steel
One came from the land, one came from the sky, and one came from the water
Night One
A warm breeze gently stirred you awake, had someone forgotten to close the window? The mosquitos would get in. You could already feel them landing on your ankles. Lashes heavy with sleep, you slowly opened your eyes and looked at the stars winking at you from above, the sky stretching out into an endless expanse. How were you outside? You must be dreaming? The coarse swamp grass itched at your neck and you realized you were sprawled in a low level of brown water. Disoriented, you sat up on your knees and felt your weight shift into the mud underneath you. Your hands sunk deeper into the thick layer of mud, and you were thrust forward. A little frightened, you peered down the channel of black water in front of you. You could not see below it, but the moon spilled into the water like milk, and the grass, haycolor during the day, glistened silver in the moonlight. It was beautiful. All you could hear was the grass rustling in the wind, the water lapping upon the shore, and the gentle croak of a frog every once in a while. By now, your eyes were adjusting to the dark and you could make out the silhouettes of birds hopping about in the grass. As they fluttered closer to you, you could tell that there were six of them, and each one of them sported a plastic colored band on their leg. Red, Orange, Yellow, Blue, Green, Purple. They were now so close to you that you could feel the air get colder around your ears. Abruptly, they all broke out into a song that sounded like the noises of a thousand insects buzzing and chirping. Their wings beat about wildly, and you understood that you must follow them. As you walked further into the marsh, you could not tell if you were walking towards the ocean or away from it. You felt as if you were outside of your body, soaring, viewing yourself from miles above the salt pond. Some of them flew off becoming a speck in the horizon, or disappeared into the shadows of Spanish Moss lined trees.
Now the only one that remained was the bird with an orange band around his foot, he gently landed on a dense cluster of Spartina grass. The sun was beginning to rise and you could see him more clearly in the faint glow of early morning light. His black and white feathers were duller, his left eye white and milky, but a vibrant patch of yellow starlight glowed between his beak and eyes.
“ You can take my heart, and you can have my liver.” he sang, “before I leave, and leave I must, I will share with you my cup.”
You looked down and there it was. A cup-shaped nest hidden in the Spartina and tidal reeds. It was made of mud and grass, and housed one small, perfect, white egg. The bird sang on as the water began to rise at a speed that sent your entire body into a panic. Crouching in the sinking mud, you cupped the fragile egg in your hands. A slight warmth radiated from it, and in your head it was pulsating, like there was a faint heartbeat inside. Your own heart beat faster and faster, you brought the egg up to your chest as the swamp water crept above your knees and you watched the last bird take flight. He flew tiredly into the horizon until he was nothing more than a blip, and then was gone all together. All that remained of the birds was the small egg in your hands. The water was reaching your waist now and you shut your eyes tight. A second later, you opened them again, waking up, and you could still hear a faint ringing in your ears, like insects singing.