As 25th January approaches each year, Wales is suddenly inundated with lovespoons, cute cards and tokens of affection. To the uninitiated, this might seem like an early start to Valentine's Day, but this is about another saint entirely – Santes Dwynwen.

Dwynwen is the Welsh patron saint of lovers and her story begins in the fifth century. Legend has it she was the most beautiful of King Brychan Brycheiniog's daughters, and she fell in love with a prince called Maelon Dafodrill. Unfortunately, her father had already promised her to another, so Dwynwen appealed to God: she wanted to forget her true love so she could find life with her intended a bearable existence.

Her God seemed to have taken this request quite seriously: not only was an angel dispatched with a forgetfulness potion, but poor Maelon also got turned into a block of ice! Dwynwen was so shocked that she rejected the potion and instead asked for three wishes: for Maelon to be thawed; for God to look after all true lovers; and for Dwynwen herself to remain unmarried. All were granted. In return, Dwynwen devoted herself to God for the rest of her days. Her church on Anglesey is seen here in splendid watercolour by Kyffin Williams.

In celebration of Saint Dwynwen's Day, I wanted to share objects of affection from Welsh collections. I'm an objects conservator, so I spend my working life looking after things that people pour emotions into: well-worn trunks, treasured toys or trinkets from a life-long companion. I repair, clean or box them up better, before handing these objects of affection back to their owners.

Join me for a gentle rummage of love-touched art from Wales!

1. Bride and Groom with Wedding Presents by Ernest Zobole

This dazed-looking couple is surrounded by gifts as they leave their wedding venue: a toaster, pots and pans, suitcases for future adventures, crockery, a blanket and an assortment of lamps. It's the kind of wonderful domestic detritus that surrounds most newlyweds, even forty years on, bought by well-meaning relatives or eager friends.

While people rarely bring me something as mundane as a toaster I often look after people's chipped jugs ('I've looked at that every day since we got married'), well-travelled suitcases ('We used to go there every summer') and moth-nibbled blankets ('She wrapped it around me every night for thirty years'). The everyday is in some ways the most romantic: the things worn by hands each morning, the fingerprints left on a silver spoon.

Ernest Zobole's slightly eerie way of capturing scenes from the Rhondda Valley highlights exactly how spellbinding our lives can be when seen in context: full of little bits of magic, surely enhanced by love.

2. Love Spoon for Lesbians and Homosexuals by Mabel Pakenham-Walsh

Who doesn't adore a Welsh lovespoon? A lovespoon is a wooden spoon given to a sweetheart and (at least originally) carved by the person gifting it. Usually these are elaborate affairs – not made for eating with – and sporting a number of symbols or intricate designs meant to impress. Where birds have fancy plumage for courting, Welsh folk have their spoons and impressive hand skills!

This lovespoon is notably more contemporary. The decor isn't found as part of the long handle as much as it spreads around the shape of the spoon: a halo of community and kinship. Gone are the hearts, bells and caged pellets indicating the number of children hoped for. Instead it looks like a table lined with conversation, with closeness. As someone bisexual and polyamorous I note that there aren't equal numbers of guests at this table: potentially they're not paired up, or maybe there's a polycule present?

Mabel Pakenham-Walsh moved to Aberystwyth in the 1970s so this piece was likely carved there, and retains her iconic style. I adore this lovespoon, much like the traditional ones. They're little love letters: here, I made an effort, I want to show you my hopes for the future.

3. Bride and Groom, Tenby by John Uzzell Edwards

This painting is simultaneously unsettling and sweet: it looks like a photo of a couple on their wedding day, yet it's fractured and distorted as if we're looking at it through a prism or inside a kaleidoscope. Is this a recollection? A re-telling? A regret?

Photos are often how we anchor our memories. Photographs aren't one of the things I can look after for people – instead, I refer them to a specialist conservator – but I can tell people how to store them for longevity. They're like save states in the great landscape of life: frozen moments we can sample again and again. They're often vital to reminiscence. Wedding photos are quite central to that: perhaps the only time we have a photo of ourselves or of the whole clan coming together. They're basically time travel in your hand.

This painting makes me think of the nature of memory: how fractured or distorted it can become, how muddled with time and age, but how something important can remain in the middle.

4. Dawns Garu / Courtship Dance by John Robinson

Something I cannot preserve for people is the ephemeral. In this sculpture, you can almost feel the movement, the twirl, the emotion between two dancers. That cannot be conserved, but by looking at an object like this, you can feel the heady rush.

Many of us have memories of dance, in particular when it comes to sweethearts past and present: a first wedding dance, a strobe-heavy rave, an awkward salsa class. It doesn't need to be shared, of course: maybe your first love danced in the kitchen while you laid the table.

This work was inspired by the mating displays of brolgas, a wetland crane in Australia and New Guinea, who usually bond for life. Their ritualised and intricate dance begins with grass-throwing and descends into twirling, stretching, bobbing and strutting together. While this seems quite far removed from human movement, dancing feels deeply entwined with our own connections. Dance can be affection, and this sculpture evokes it well.

5. Mission Gallery Doors by Rob Conybear, Robin Campbell and Martin Bellwood

This might seem an odd choice at first: what's so romantic about a doorway? Actually, doorways might be incredibly romantic: a person of interest leaning against a doorway, a glimpse caught of a loved one walking past, a knock from a suitor. What held my attention was the outline of a man on the wall: a slightly mournful-looking shadow of a lingering person.

The outline is a reference to a Greek legend of love. Dibutades, a young woman in Corinth, knew her lover was leaving for a long voyage. In a moment of inspiration, she sees his shadow on the wall – cast by a lamp – and decides to trace it there, to remember him by. And that's how paintings were born: as shadows on walls. A simple story, which attributes the invention of painting to a woman – always welcome!

In a time before photos, an outline, sketch or drawing might be all we had to recall someone by. I love a sketchbook, or someone's carefully framed drawing of a loved one. They tend to be a little more personal than photos: more intimate. They often tell a story beyond 'blonde man with a beard' or 'woman with a big smile' – love embodied, often.

If you've not visited Mission Gallery in Swansea yet, it's well worth a gander: it's housed in a Grade II listed building, once a church for seamen – another little nod to Dibutades's lover on his voyage across the sea.

And finally, I encourage you to look at your own collections, your own domestic detritus or your own well-loved tat: go forth and see affection everywhere. Dydd Santes Dwynwen Hapus!

Jenny Mathiasson, objects conservator and freelancer

This content was supported by Welsh Government funding