If I were a more superstitious person, I'd stop all this blogging business straight away: it's endangering my precious things.
After 7 or 8 years, my favourite blue bowl was dropped and broke into a neat crescent with assorted smaller pieces. And now my lovely teapot has a fracture in its once robust handle, thanks to my clumsiness.
Even just thinking of blogging about an object seems to spell its doom. The other day I had the merest thought I'd do a blog on what makes the handmade so appealing to me. I thought I'd photograph a porcelain pendant to accompany the piece.
No sooner had I had this thought than it crashed to the ground from the place where it has sat safely for 6 or so months. Not broken, thankfully.
So I rushed to capture its screen-printed decoration, which reminds me of the blue and white willow pattern.
Cue: crashing, breaking sound from the kitchen.
Surely a coincidence, but it also seems like something blue and white was destined to break. This one, a little cup and saucer, met its fate at the hands of a curious 19 month old.
And yet: I have no regrets. These favourite objects are things I've well and truly enjoyed living with everyday, writing about, and thinking with. They're not simply for display in a home museum. So I will keep blogging about them.
That said, I'm now off to pay my home contents insurance, just in case...
I have a friend who uses broken porcelain fragments to make new art. It offers a sort of life after death for the object, and often in those archeological digs, it's the broken fragments that are most likely to be found.
ReplyDeleteCold comfort, though.
Ruth, I hope and pray you have simply been a little unlucky and that this stops TOUT DE SUITE.
ReplyDeleteIt is so unfortunate :(
Elisabeth: And aren't those ancient fragments fascinating! I like your friend's idea of transforming the more recently broken into something new.
ReplyDeleteGenevieve: Thanks. You know, as someone who really enjoys material objects, I was surprisingly fine with them breaking. It's frustrating, but somehow feels okay. I do wonder: would psychologists call this 'attached-separation' or some such thing?
Separation anxiety rings a bell. Clearly you don't have it though :-) you sound very well-adjusted.
ReplyDeleteI had some great Japanese cups until recently - one broke, then a swag of them lost their handles all in a row. Then the two nicest ones broke within days of each other. Now I'm drinking out of cups with slogans.
What a pity, Genevieve. Hope some very nice, slogan-free cups come your way soon.
ReplyDeleteyes, I must go shopping for them ASAP.
ReplyDelete