The image above is of one of several fragments of pottery, all with blue chinoiserie design, which I have dug up while gardening. Each time I find one, I feel as though I have discovered a long forgotten buried treasure.
While the pieces are damaged beyond repair to their former form, there is a great poetic beauty to them, within each crack there is a whisper of a story of the hands which it has touched, of sips, tastes, glances, and perhaps a drama or two, one of which ended up with it getting broken and then tossed away.
“True perfection seems imperfect,
yet it is perfectly itself.
True fullness seems empty,
yet it is fully present.
True straightness seems crooked.
True wisdom seems foolish.
True art seems artless.”
― Lao Tzu, Tao Te Ching
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THE ICONOPHILE 