Grasping the handle of the pitcher, carefully aiming the water past the rim to satisfy the capacity beneath. Twisting the tap and allowing the water consent, filling the basin, disappearing through the drain. The gleeful whistle from across the room signals the kettle’s deed. Tea rushes from the spout, inhabiting the space below. Stretching the length of the table, clumsily knocking the salt and pepper in a desperation for the sugar. Seizing the jar, its shiny surface sliding across the wooden plane of the table, bumping over the grain. Lifting the lid with one hand, the opposite dexterously clutching the spoons polished handle between two fingers and a thumb. Scooping a mound of sugar into the cup and stirring it until it dissolves.
Ceramic objects, the silent bystanders of our everyday, potent with the energy of our experiences of them. How can these objects be disjointed, dislocated, rediscovered?