Saturday, May 14, 2011
Saturday afternoon. The setting sun and closing of the day has always been an inspiring time for me. Since the "Time of the Children" began the closing of the day is a signal to frantically finish up what ever I'm working on and rush up the stairs to the dinner/shower bedtime tsunami, finishing at around 7.00 by collapsing on the couch. But today we have Holly Throsby playing really loud and the table has a pot of freshly made tea steaming on it and my camera is handy and somehow the elegiac ordinary, setting of the sun through the western windows washes the room with golden light and beauty descends.
And we all have a cup of tea and play our music REALLY LOUD. And I stop wishing I lived in a groovy house that looks like something off "The Selby" blog and that Trev and I hung around the house looking like Potter/cheesemaker/ex-models in our nouveau boho clothing somehow incorporating something in the vague form of a vest that looks like it was made out of a flokati rug.
And I think of an idea to celebrate my normal, wonderful life and the normal wonderful lives of the unstyled cups and plates that we use everyday. Every so often I am going to post images of pots in their natural environment. Chipped, cracked,being sipped at by grubs who insist on drinking out of their teaspoons and spilling milk all over the table. This is how art and life connect.
I've always said there is no use in a having a teapot that is only for looking at.