The other day my husband broke my favourite mug. It was a tan carved mug from a potter in British Columbia that I bought at a chocolate shop in Moncton. I always buy pottery mugs. I buy them because they are beautiful and to support potters. I don't want to live in a world without potters.
I just love that they take the earth and mold it and form it and coax it into being a vessel for us to enjoy a cup of coffee from. So I buy the mugs. I buy them for myself and for gifts.
This one had "la rouere" colloquial slang I am told for the name of the river in France and also the name of the chelate shop. I have lost many mugs over the years. Shattered on the hard countertops, broken handles, chips, and hairline leaky fractures. That however has never stopped me from buying mugs. I know the risks when I get one.
They look strong and chunky, but they are delicate. I relate to that. Every time I buy one I think this will be my mug. I won't break it. Some last for years. And for awhile each one is my favourite. It becomes my go to mug. And then one day I serve tea in it to someone else and they admire it. If the time is right, sometimes I say take it and enjoy it. And off they go with their new favourite mug.
When my husband broke the" la rouere" mug I had a three second pang of disappointment but I did not get mad. I have broken so many myself, always having promised myself that I would handle them carefully. How could I the queen of shards ever condemn anyone for breaking a mug. But there was a pang, and a quick decision to move on. Perhaps back to a past loved mug, or of course, to buy another and support a potter.
Because, like me, like us, the potter believes in the handmade. They live the create beauty everyday mantra. And holding their mugs in my hand reminds me of the art spirit that flows through everything we make. That spirit lives in the clay, the wool, the drawings. It is the spirit within us that comes through our hands and makes an object something more.
We are all potters when we make. We share this beautiful experience of letting our spirit emerge through our hands and become something tactile and real. With our hands we make spirit real. We make spirit visible. And this is art.
