Machine Light No. 12

“So, uh… what is it?”

I stared at the contraption on the table. It was a curious thing made of wires, metal, and bulbs. “Is it a robot?”

He laughed at me as he placed an arm around my waist. “No, silly. This is part of Frank Buchwald’s Machine Light series. They are majestic hand-crafted sculptural lights featuring an almost anatomical form thanks to their alien-like, four-footed bases and quasi-corporeal symmetry.” He grinned at me.

“So it’s a lamp.” I shook my head, not understanding its allure. “All that work and polish for a night light.”

He frowned and crossed his arms. “It’s art and science mixed with functionality. It’s a blend of imagination and practicality. It’s artwork you can touch and experience.”

“It’s a lamp, Julius. A fancy, expensive-looking lamp, but a lamp all the same.”

“It’s not that, Cass. It’s about what it represents.” He stood back for a moment, staring at the piece. “For me, it’s measured absurdity, which is foolish to think about, since how can oddity be measured so exactly? And yet here this is, equal parts nonsensical and comprehensible.”

I rolled my eyes and leaned back on a nearby shelf. When inspired, Julius can drone on and on about his ideas.

With his eyes still on the lamp, he continued. “This is also a nod to science fiction, being a kind of fictional creature to come out from the pages of a book. The imagery is splendid, spontaneous, meaningful. It is also presented in clean enough lines. Odd with each curve, yet classy in its rendition.”

With a sigh, he turned to me, almost sadly. “I really enjoy this piece, and it gives me great sadness to know its new owner might never appreciate its inherent grace.”

At this, I walked to him and kissed his cheek. Lacing my fingers in his, I leaned my head on his shoulder. “Maybe there’s a snazzy lamp collector in the audience. It’ll be okay.”

He sighed. “Maybe. It’s just…”

I silenced him with a kiss and ruffled his hair. “Did you want to stop? There’s still time.”

He decidedly shook his head. At that instant, the door opened and the auction master stepped in. “Item 8204 is up next.” He looked at us apologetically. “I’m sorry, Julius. I know how much this meant to you.”

Julius nodded and turned away. The auction master made the signal, and his assistants came in to take the lamp away.

When they had, he placed our interlaced hands on my belly, which would grow even bigger in the next few months. He leaned his head on my shoulder, and I held him close.

We stood there as we heard the speakers boom, “And next, we have Item 8204. This is Machine Light Number 12…”

Upon hearing this, Julius straightened up and tugged at me, moving towards the exit. Together, we left the auction house.

–
Image source: frankbuchwald.com/series/no12/index_eng.html
First written December 4, 2017.
#67