Lessons in Sunbirdish (3)

I am recounting my extraordinary experiences with sunbirds, which I have come to see as my personal harbingers of hope and divine support. Please read the previous two posts, Lessons in Sunbirdish 1 and Lessons in Sunbirdish 2  if you wish to get the bigger picture.

In preparing to exhibit at the Grahamstown Fesitval in July last year, I made a sculpture depicting two hands from which a sunbird grows out of and which seems to be on the verge of taking flight. I wanted to show something of the artist's ability to create beauty and to allow it to venture into the world. It always feels like such a gamble to put one's work out on display and I had a hard time fighting my demons while working on the nine pieces that would make out our exhibition. Maybe it was because it would be the first time that my work would be on public display at a major national festival frequented by thousands of visitors. My inner artist was running scared. We wrote about our experiences at the festival in the posts: Eleven days of Amazing and Exploring the Enneagram through Art.

As we settled into our beautiful exhibition space, I relaxed somewhat and we soon felt very much part of this singular community of artists putting our talent on display. We had marvellous feedback and even made it into the daily newspaper, but as the days passed and we had no sale to offset our expenses we were steadily growing despondent. By day Nine of Eleven we were downright morbid and was promptly sent out to get some fresh air by Eylene who stayed behind to manage the exihbition.

We decided on visiting the huge craft market with hundreds of stalls, many of which were occupied by fellow artists and craftspeople like ourselves and exhibiting beautiful and original artworks. We felt humbled by the beauty around us and were discussing our dire situation as we strolled through the many huge marquis tents. We couldn't understand why things were turning out as it was while we had felt so strongly that we should enter into the art festival and then did so at considerable cost.

We rounded a corner to enter yet another tent when my eyes met with an incredible sight. The corner stall couldn't contain all the artwork on display and it spilled over into the bright sunlight onto the lawn outside the tent: a huge "flock" of sunbirds! Each exquisitely carved from soapstone in soft jewel colours and perching on lengths of strong wire driven into the soil.



On closer inspection there were also sunbirds fashioned from scrap metal and loads of sunbirds in every possible posture were perching perkily on the tables inside the stall!



We couldn't have asked for a surer "sign" that we were still on track. Even more importantly, I would never in my wildest dreams have imagined something so ridiculously specific!

I have to confess that, to my shame, in my exited state I failed to register the artist's name. I asked him why he chose to make sunbirds and he replied that they were plentiful in the Eastern Cape where the aloes grow profusely, providing the nectar so loved by sunbirds. There was no deeper urge or meaning to his art: he simply liked to depict their lively way of posturing. He then showed me some of his creations in different stages of finishing as he was keeping himself occupied during the long market hours. He uses the simplest of tools, a carving knife and awl to create the sculptures and pliers to fashion the beaks and claws from wire.

I chose my very own little female stone sunbird and this time round the experience could be captured on camera.

The Sunbird man and I

It was only later that I realised that there was a difference in the pattern of this experience when compared to the others. With the vocabulary of trust, support and deliverance mastered in the previous "lessons in Sunbirdish", it seemed that the analogy was widening up to include George and our work together. It filled me with deep gratitude and a surety that I very much needed as we packed up to go back to our lives in Gauteng.

We have had no sale at the festival and though we could look back fondly on a great adventure, it took many months to recover from the financial setback. We still don't exactly understand the whys and the wherefores of the exercise, but the host of sunbird might just as well have been angels visiting us with the glad tidings of God's love for us.

We could ask for no more. Or could we?

Matilda