Indian Rubies

“I have always possessed a kind of knapsack, if nothing more than a piece of cloth of skin tied in a knot. My sack, worthy companion, produces, when opened, a world defined by its contents – fluxion, unique, beloved. This uncommon bundle has always been my comfort, my happy burden. Yet I have found it […]

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“I have always possessed a kind of knapsack, if nothing more than a piece of cloth of skin tied in a knot. My sack, worthy companion, produces, when opened, a world defined by its contents – fluxion, unique, beloved.

This uncommon bundle has always been my comfort, my happy burden. Yet I have found it unwise to attach myself to the souvenirs within. For as soon as I focus on a certain object I misplace it or it just disappears.

I had a ruby. Imperfect, beautiful like faceted blood. It came from India where they wash up on the shore. Thousands of them – the beads of sorrow. Little droplets that somehow became gems gathered by beggars who trade them for rice. Whenever I stared into its depths I felt overcome, for caught within my little gem was more misery and hope than one could fathom.”

Excerpt from Woolgathering by Patti Smith, 1992.

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Image above is of Vancouver-born, Saint Martin-schooled, Manhattan-based artist Phillip Low’s work, who handcrafts these beautiful geometric forms that glow and radiate different colours when viewed from different angles. Low has also produced a series of limited prints of a few taken by photographer Uday Kak, available from Maryam Nassir Zadeh.