Evoke

From the collection published in 2015, Spring Cleaning.

Evoke

The green mug on the shelf
you made it
you gave it to me.
I liked it when you
wanted to throw it out
but I liked it.
It has a comfortable shape and
holds the right amount of liquid and
the handle is big enough for my fingers
and you made it.
Now I realize that the mug will still be here
still be mine
sitting on my shelf
when you leave town
and I don’t see you anymore.
It won’t be enough and what will
I think then
When I see the green mug on the shelf?

“How About a Cup of Tea?”, mail art postcard, 2013.

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20 thoughts on “Evoke

  1. Thank you, I know I had not understood about loading a kiln until I started doing it myself, never thought about the planning involved in this end of the process, and I enjoy the challenge of making it work out.

  2. Yes, a friend made the mug that inspired me here, who now lives far away, and I still miss her and the mug is a reminder of her, bittersweet, that is exactly it.

  3. There were some dicey moments along the way, though (items can blow up in the kiln and I mean blow up, pieces everywhere…) but I am always crossing my fingers and I speak nicely to the kiln as well, because we have to cooperate!

  4. This poem really hit a nerve with me. Sitting in my living room shelf (not far from your clay work actually) is a clay owl my Grandad sculpted in the 1970s. It’s one of the few tangible things I own of him and it’s definitely bittersweet that I now own it.

  5. And it’s what we remember most clearly. All of my childhood and right up until I left home, I used the spoon that had been given me as a sort of christening present. When my parents moved I was living in France and I was sent some of the things they thought I would like to have. My spoon wasn’t there. It had gone in a bundle of cutlery to one of my sisters who subsequently lost it. Nobody but me realised how important that spoon was.

  6. Yes, the associations that sometimes very humdrum objects have are deep and strong, making a physical place for remembering, I think, where every time you are with the object, you are with the memory. Not many things in each person’s life do this, but we each have something, I think.

  7. That is just sad, and I am not making fun of you. It really is a piercing to the heart when this kind of thing happens, and it looks so – nothing – to others, so there is not even really any sympathy. One of those ordinary little stabs that really really hurts.

  8. My sister claimed she didn’t know which spoon I meant. It was a small piece of my past that wasn’t lost by accident, or faded away all by itself, it was just dumped before I was ready to let it go. Maybe these are the things that hurt most.

  9. My husband accidentally got rid of some Christmas items (manger scene figures that he got confused which set to give away) from my childhood and I still have a sore spot for them, even though it was a mistake and he was very sorry. So I know just what you mean.

  10. It’s hard to imagine that what was such a familiar part of our lives was nothing for the people around us. I did a similar thing to your husband, gave one of my husband’s favourite shirts to a charity shop because I thought he’d decided to throw it away. In fact, he had, but changed his mind. I tried to get it back but they’d already packed it up to dispatch to one of their other shops. These things are irrevocable and we never forget.

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