I stumbled across a print of a teapot in a thrift store and a small square frame. I bought them to make a collage. To me, the teapot was a vessel, and it carried with it all the complexities of man searching for answers and inspiration. People sip on tea and coffee while writing or divulging personal truths to a friend. Tea is often used in Buddhist funerals. It is placed at the altar. I wanted this teapot to serve as a vessel between two worlds—the living and the departed. The beloved dream and the death of a dream.
I finished working on this project, stepped back, looked at it, and was reminded of just how frightening it is when a dream dies. I reflected on the many dreams that had died no matter how much I loved them. In the end, life is a series of gains and losses, and a person can focus on the small wins, or stare back into the abyss of loss. I imagine that most of us spend a little time doing both.
There is no reflection without the sting of decay. The cup of tea that opens the doorway to the past may be small in stature, but even small doorways can be dangerous.