The other day, I accidentally knocked a treasured cup off a table and watched, in the slow motion of a car accident, as it crashed onto the stone floor. It was gone in a moment, an object whose beauty I’d enjoyed daily since my friend Suzanne Shaker had given it to me over a decade ago: Ted Muehling’s nymphenburg porcelain ‘convex’ cup, a wonder.
As it flew through the air, I found myself thinking “It’s only an object…Nothing terrible has happened…no lives lost, no illness. An object only.” In the face of all the losses we’ve read about recently, that we’ve all seen in our own and other’s lives, it paled.I thought of the guy who remarked so matter-of-factly in the face of the huge beautiful trees blown over in the hurricane: “It’s Nature.”
I’m contemplating glueing the cup together, not to make perfect mends, or to make it anything like its former perfect self, rather to make the exact opposite, the fine porcelain pieces formed-together roughly, a reminder of the pleasure it held, the friendship that endures still, imperfection, and …change. And shit that just doesn’t matter.
Or perhaps I’ll throw the broken bits away and keep an image of the cup in my digital memory archive, my strategy for giving things away…letting them go while still having them.
Related posts: kintsugi: the artful repair of damaged things
a jar of air + memory
keeping an instagram journal
a modernist island retreat (on a budget)
voyeur: suzanne shaker’s interiors
digital memory archive (photograph stuff then give it away)