Donnine Canamar

Multimedia Designer, Artist

16

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Cela ne veut pas une tasse

Our objects we touch everyday have an enormous impact on how we behave and think. It’s important to consciously choose objects which add value to our lives, whether it be sentimental, functional, or aesthetic. 


On my desk sits a frequent flyer object - I use it every day, multiple times. My coffee cup, my friend. But no, it didn’t come manufactured from a factory, and it doesn’t have identical twins. It’s one of a kind, as every day is. It was made by a ceramicist I will never know. It bears no official identifying marks of the maker, but all of the fingerprints. The flow of curves, resembling a spine, tells the story of the wave like hand movements which created it. The coarse texture of the clay speaks of the Earth, and is a subtle reminder that the cup itself is a gift from it. The outside glazes shine in blue green tones and grays, giving it the distinct impression of a sea storm. The inside is kissed with a subtle red clay tint. 

Each color was specifically chosen. Each color tells the story of the maker. Who was he? Where did he come from? Where was he when I purchased the piece from the craft maker stand at the massive festival last summer? Did he feel the heat of the clay beneath his hands?

The cup is more than a cup. The cup is a representation of the human element which must always be present in any human endeavor. Ironically, it represents the juxtaposition of how far we’ve come versus how far we’ve slipped out of touch as it patiently sits next to my mass-produced water bottle with the sticker MADE IN CHINA on the bottom. My cup tells no tales of where it came from, but hints at the fingers that intimately touched and shaped it. 

A skilled, and wise, ceramicist once told me the quality of the object could be observed in how well the coils were welded together to form the object. If you can see the coils, or hints of them, the object will most certainly crumble with the test of time. It will not hold against warm liquids or washing, and it is more likely to crack when accidentally dropped. Upon my inspection, my cup is elegant, and smooth like butter. It is an absolute testament of the need for human creation in the cubicle workspace, desperate for signs of humanism and culture. The way the colors laugh at the rigidity of the walls of my desk is beautiful. Cela ne veut pas une tasse. It is a symbol, of the marks we leave behind as creators of our lives and destinies. At the most fundamental value, the cup is a vessel to hold. At the highest conceptual value, because I chose the cup, it is a minefield of suggestion. If I listen intently, I can hear it saying, “Ha! Despite the walls around me to prevent closeness and connection, I am here!”

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