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A lapse. Emptiness. Unintentional. Likely post-pregnancy hormones long overdue for a catching up. Love how those womanly feelings leave you so drained. So unmotivated. No photos. No stories. Only disjointed half-formed thoughts which seem unable to weave themselves into anything worthwhile.


Which made me think of this bowl. It belonged to a family friend who bought it in Japan in the 1950′s while traveling the world during her husband’s enlistment. It was passed to me when she passed away. She was quite the collector of rich items which were inextricably tied to the stories of her life’s journeys. The true value of the objects lied not in the thing, but in the memories it embodied. Value which sadly was not understood by those who saw only the hoards of objects and sold or gave away most of her things. I am lucky to have received a few items from her- a set of vintage hand-painted Japanese china, a vintage silk Kimono jacket I wore to my Junior Prom, Asian calligraphy on parchment scrolls, a rich green wool scarf from Scotland.


This bowl sits empty on our bedroom dresser, next to a framed wedding photograph. I cannot bring myself to put anything in it. Perhaps it is because I treasure the beauty of the object more than it’s practical function. As if placing anything in it some how detracts or obstructs it’s qualities. It is the central inspiration for the rest of the room. The colors, the contrast, the simplicity, the texture. Granted the rest of the room has a long ways to go, I am a very slow and cautious collector and decorator. But this is the conceptual center. A container for emptiness, yet filled with meaning. I like it empty. I just don’t really like my emotional state to reflect that at the moment.

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