Jiselle Garowskij's Gallery

[Quidix]

The painting depicts a wren who lost its wings; its damaged feathers and scarring suggest violence was involved. It has now healed. It sits calmly in the palm of an elderly man, who caresses it gently.

The wren sits still with eyes closed. Its beak is raised as it chirps in delight at the soft strokes. The man’s posture is at ease and his eyes are enraptured by the bird.

There are three other animals by the man’s side; a well-cared horse, a green-eyed dog, and a roguish-looking rabbit. The dog looks at the man’s stroking hand with an intense, longing, gaze.

A wooden plaque reads:
“THE WINGLESS WREN, WHO FOUND THE MAN THAT CARED”

“I found you.
You were hurt.
I felt for you.
So I stayed.

I thought as I sat in the man’s palm.

I needed your care.
You needed me.
Something, someone, new.
To love and care for.

I keep my eyes closed. I do not want to see, think, of the others.

I am stronger now.
You nurtured me.
You gave me life again.
I am thankful.

Only scars remain of what was. I barely feel them now.

Please, caress me.
Again, again, and again.
I cannot live without it.
It keeps memories away.

I am not sure what I would do without them. I do not want to think about it.

I cannot fly away.
I do not want to fly away.
I will sit in your palm.
Forevermore.”

[Quidix]

The painting depicts a city port with a tall oak beside the quay. The size and bark speak to the tree’s great age. Atop the highest twig sits a wren, who appears to have lost its wings. It stares straight up to the cloud-filled sky. The talons grip the branch tightly and its gaze appears intense and unwavering. It is unusually thin, as if it has not eaten for days.

The cobbled wharf shows a resplendent promenade; the trees are in full blossom, the flowers have opened themselves to the spring’s warmth, and performers dance gracefully to applause. Many smiling couples stroll leisurely about, and reach out to feed a group of wrens on the ground with delicacies; seeds, peanuts, and fresh berries. The birds pick at the medley of treats with utter delight in their step.

A wooden plaque reads:
“THE WINGLESS WREN, WHO ONLY GAZED UPON THE SKY”

“I have heard the world is big.
But the sky is never-ending.

The sky was my world.
The sky was enough.

I stretched my wings.
I was everywhere.

I bathed in the cerulean blue.
I soaked in the clouds’ white wonder.

One day it came and took my wings. I do not remember it, the details. It is simply blank.

I sit here all day.
I look up.
To what was.
To remember.

I know it cannot be again. I know it. So, there is only the memories.

My memories weaken.
They have lost their colours.
They have lost their sharpness.
But I still feel them.

It is only a trickle of feelings now. It has to be enough. I do wonder what tomorrow brings. Will they fade further?

I regret not flying higher.
I regret not flying further.

While I could.”

[Quidix]

The painting depicts the city wall at dusk. Two wrens sit close to each other on the ledge of one of the tall gate towers. They have both lost their wings. One of them has two large, aged, scars where the wings used to be, while the other's wounds still appear fresh.

They look at peace; the wounded wren gazes out on the outskirts, while the scarred one places salve on its wounds. Their legs are linked with a tight keyless metal chain.

A wooden plaque reads:
"THE WINGLESS WRENS, AND THE CHAIN OF FRIENDSHIP"

"It hurt.
Initially.
During.
After.

Having wings cut does hurt. I feared it would. I hoped I would be stronger.

Alone.
I thought.
I must be.
A wingless wren.

I am not sure how, why, I stayed, in this world. But, I did stay.

I found something.
Bloodied on the ground.
A pair of wings.
It was yours.

I did not want to find you. Is the world so cruel that I am not alone?

We were both in pain.
But not alone, anymore.
You gave me a reason.
To stay.

The wounds did still hurt, but it was easier, with you. Life, in the form we had it, continued.

Years later.
Nightmares.
They strike.
Again, again.

The scars have healed, physically. I have had the nightmares before; seen them, felt them. I still sweat when they come.

You gently pat my back. You do not say anything. You do not need to. It helps."

[Quidix]

The painting shows a lean figure with a raised whip, cracking with a thunderous sound in the air. The whip appears pristine, showing no signs of damage. It is likely ritualistic or ornamental in nature.

The whip is pointed towards a wingless wren who sits atop a corpse. Its beak is bloody, and the eyes of the body are missing. It has a tense, reluctant, posture as it chews on the meat.

There is another wren high up in the sky. At the base of its wings, feathers are missing, and there is extensive scarring. Despite the old injury, it flies well with wings stretched out wide. It circles the figures with an ominous stare. There is a light golden ray connecting the two wrens.

A wooden plaque reads:
"THE WINGLESS WREN, WHO SOUGHT REDEMPTION"

"You made me.

The frozen eyes stared at me.
I am not sure who it was.
I am not sure why.
I had to.

Once I made a mistake.
I asked you who it was.
I asked you why.
I felt sick.

I say it was your whip.
But your words were enough.
It was my beak and claw.
It was not my will, I tell myself.

Please, forgive me.

The chains broke.
I have not forgotten.
I do not deserve to.
It cannot be forgiven.

Can it?

I tried to live, to survive.
I thought myself lost.
Fallen and depraved.
I barely slept.

It cannot be undone.
So, it cannot be forgiven.
I have accepted it.
It is not fair; the world is not made fair.

There are others.
It is not their wills.
It is their hands.
I know their torment.

I can atone.

I set them free.
I caress them.
I teach them to walk.
The ones who can.

I am not forgiven.
I am redeemed."