444nhii

[444nhii]

The Museum of Ex-Lovers

Curatorial Statement:

This all began with clutter. Not a grand idea. just the slow accumulation of things I never returned: a shirt, a card, a pair of earrings. I didn’t throw them away. I didn’t have the heart. one day i realised i was holding onto a whole archive of past lives i have lived. a collection of things tied to people i had once loved, and the different versions of me that loved them.

some items still get a laugh out of me. some still sting a little. i did not want to make heartbreak the theme of this collection. however, i have to acknowledge that it’s the scaffolding— it shaped the foundation of the walls of this exhibit.

the main themes are about memory, identity, and how much we change through our lived experiences with people, who may not be in our lives anymore. we try to forget.

although, i understand the human condition— when we lose someone, we try to forget the pain and sometimes we even resent this person.

but love—real or mistaken—

always leaves something behind.

this collection is my way of holding all of it; messy, personal, and in my opinion— beautiful. i hope as you continue to walk through the halls that echo my past, you don’t just see lost love. i hope you see that through love lost—there is growth. there is someone who is still figuring it out, but who’s learned to make something meaningful out of what remains.

so maybe what this collection is, is a messy gratitude for every almost, every undoing. bc without them, i wouldn’t be here. & today— i am someone i’m proud of.

‘The Things I Didn’t Return’ Collection:

-[Item No. 001]

A long sleeved white shirt that still subtly smell like Denmark’s countryside. when i put it on, it is almost like i can smell the wet wood and mildew mornings. the shirt is far too big for me, because he was 205cm tall, contrasting my 153cm short stature. It brings a soft comfort of nostalgia—an innocent love. The first time I believed in forever and soul mates.

-[Item No. 002]

a pair of rusty earrings shaped in daffodils gifted by an ex’s mother. she used to always buy me flowers, more times than he did.

catalogued under: “tokens from the people who thought i’d stay.”

-[Item No. 003]

a wooden monkey figurine. gifted by an ex’s father, a rough looking german man. yet, his eyes softened when he gazed at his son. Given not for an occasion, not for my birthday— but simply just because i said i liked it. he packed it in a box and wouldn’t take “no” for an answer.

-[Item No. 004]

a thick black cotton t-shirt. the fabric is coarse, scratches when worn. the shirt tells a story of: “she knows what it means to be touched by love (it wasn’t), and to be touched by force.”

-[Item No. 005]

a collection of cards. various sizes. it lays in a messy scrawl; almost imitating the last moments I had with this person. “I love yous.”, “forevers.”, and pet names that no longer carry weight—all scribbled inside.

categorised under: sentimental lies.

-[Item No. 006]

a promise ring, decorated with a dull white moonstone—which was once shiny and full of life. Inscribed with vows of elopement and infinity.

sourced in Naarm: the city where I first met the man who offered it.

-[Item No. 007]

a pair of pink-tinted sunglasses, shaped like hearts and flame. just like flames to a matchstick, our time together was short-lived. bright, loud, and over far too fast. and i realised with this, that when you hold on too long—you will get scorched.

I still curate this collection. new items come in waves whenever the “new” collection, which i would like to call “I Can See Myself Spending Forever With You”, gets scrapped. it happens every few years. i archive what’s left. salvage the soft things. catalogue the rest. the new collection never gets permanently scrapped, it awaits until i try again. there are a number of items currently inside, curated and collected within the past two years. although, sometimes i think,

“perhaps it deserves a new museum; one where the walls aren’t already smeared with fingerprints, and haunted by the people who left.”

although, it is hard to say whether the new collection should become a permanent exhibit housed in this museum. it has always been a constant tba anxiety that i am learning to drown out in the present.

Featured Exhibit:

Item No. 008 — The Necklace

The Avoidant Palestinian Ex, b. 1994. Van, 2023. 18ct gold chain with Arabic calligraphy pendant. Pearl carved into floral backing; script adorned with white gemstones. Commissioned as a birthday gift, prior to his emotional detachment. Gifted post-“breakup”. Brief reconnection followed. Our final correspondence: May 2023.

Curator’s Note:

this piece began as an idea in casual conversation. i was over at his apartment. he was washing the dishes, and i was curled up on his couch. i was trying to feel at ease, maybe even at home, in a space that never quite let me in—nor welcomed me. there was always a quiet tension between us that i could never quite put my finger on.

Quiet. Unspoken. Like a ghost lived in his walls. i think until this day he does not want to acknowledge the ghost. but that is his story to tell.

i cant remember how the idea started, but i remember his words:

“i was thinking of getting you a birthday gift. maybe your name? in arabic? as a necklace?” he asked me. i remember faintly how he looked up to observe my reaction.

i didn’t know what to expect. because to be honest, at some point in my life; i did not like my name at all. however i agreed, perhaps excitedly—because it was one of the few moments, where something from him felt clear. intentional. it didn’t feel like I was guessing. just a quiet, beautiful idea… without all the confusion attached.

and with this gift, also showed his impeccable timing; he ended things before the necklace arrived. he had asked a friend overseas to help commission it, and by the time it reached my hands, we weren’t on speaking terms.

i remembered that we sort of laughed, when the necklace arrived.

“it’s kinda extra,” he warned before he sent photos.

“a bit much,” i responded in agreement.

he told me the necklace wasn’t quite what he envisioned. and i remember wondering. if he meant the necklace

or if he meant us.

We reconnected briefly after that, but just as quickly, it ended again.

post 2023;

i still wear it—because somewhere along the way, the item no longer connected me to him,

it instead became an emblem of me.

i stopped hating my name. i stopped wishing it sounded like the other girls’. eg. the jessicas and sarahs and emilys

the names that baristas never had to ask you to repeat, and repeat and repeat

“vanessa,” i’d say instead of “van.”

easier.

less questions.

less shrinking.

less inconvenient.

so this necklace invited me to love my name again. how beautiful it is; to see my name adorned in pearl and gold, to hear it roll off a language not my own and feel held.

not hidden.

not mocked. but appreciated.

i won’t pretend i reclaimed this piece completely as my own. if i had, it wouldn’t be in this collection.

“so, why does it still remain here?”

about a month ago, i put the necklace on like i always have done when coordinating outfits. i clasped it without thinking,

and i glanced at the mirror

my head tilting as i ran my fingers over the gold and pearl.

it was just like every other day.

nothing special.

nothing new.

yet my gaze—itwas oddly stuck on my reflection, it hung there longer than it should have.

and suddenly,

i wasn’t seeing a necklace anymore.

i was seeing him.

the gold arabic scripture twisted and it flinched, it was no longer my name i saw,

but it was his.

the first letter,

bold, unapologetic,

staring back at me

like it had always been waiting for me to notice. as if the mirror unveiled the smoke.

like a secret I’d worn for years, without knowing.

i laughed at this revelation. because how poetic. how cruel. how on brand for the universe. of course my fucking name was reflecting back as his initial. whether he planned it that way or not, i’ll never know. maybe it was a coincidence,

maybe he was more clever than i gave him credit for.

either way, it felt like the universe’s cosmic joke. a beautiful piece of jewellery; meant to honour me, yet somehow still belonging to him. as if the universe was saying:

“You don’t get to forget the one who changed you.”

so, as i walk through this museum. i realise that every artifact here has taught me something:

each ex, in their own flawed and unique way, left something behind. whether it was a lesson, a scar, a gift.

i love my name now,

i say it with pride

i repeat it once, twice,

and even three times.

it’s Van.

i no longer tell baristas that my name is

vanessa.

“it’s v for victor, a for alpha and n for nelly (i don’t know why, but aussies rly like to use nelly as the phonetic alphabet)”

some things don’t need to be buried. just as my name doesnt, nor does any of my memories together with the people that i loved.

they can sit against my skin,

rest near my pulse,

it can remind me that yes, this did hurt. but i lived. and i have changed.

Upcoming Featured Item: Item No. 009 — The Jade Bangle

“Not Yet Archived”

[444nhii]

Lol. This might get abandoned out of the blue. I just thought it would be a great way to journal in a more fun and unique way without tiring my hands. Was going to use Fraser’s Medical website as a starting point - to reflect, explore how I’m feeling today, and journal from there.