Sunday, 12 December 2010

On Value

I wrote recently about the perception of value. 
We live in a world that  thrives on disposable artifacts that we value very little. We see blemishes as reason enough to discard all manner of items. Things, all manner of things, are cheap and easy to acquire.  Yes, we moan about how much everything costs, but in reality we are rich beyond the dreams of our forebears.
Nobody forces us down the mines as tiny children. We don't grow up malnourished, our bones bent from rickets, humble peasants like myself can travel to foreign lands, I even have my own horseless carriage. 
In an earlier time, goods were made to last, furniture was handed down for generations. I wonder how many of today's "designer" artifacts will survive into the next century. Will your grandchildren squabble over possession of your antique ikea bedstead?

The picture below is not a good one, I took it in low light, with reflections, I'm sure a google search would find a better example, but for my purposes, I prefer it as it is. 
Here we have a Chinese bowl. I can't be a hundred percent sure, I'd say Sung dynasty, and at some point it was dropped and broken. Someone valued it so highly, that the shards were gathered up, and a repairer was summoned to reassemble it, drilling and joining the pieces with wire staples, maybe gold, maybe bronze, from below, and filling the crack-lines with urushi lacquer, (made from tree-sap), mixed with powdered gold. This was a slow, painstaking repair, an art of itself. 


Where, to us, cracks imply worthlessness, the gold-filled cracks in this pot tell us a story of how someone loved it, how it was nursed back to health, treated with gold, and restored to its position as a treasured possession.

The gold,  apart from being in itself a decoration and a statement of wealth,  serves another very real purpose. It shields the lacquer from the destructive effects of ultraviolet light in sunlight, and also strengthens it. Perhaps it protects somewhat against heat too. 
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Record Breaking

How did that happen?
I was just idly thinking of tidying up the sidebar when I noticed that I'd posted 22o times this year.

7 posts in 2006, (but I only started on the 26th December),
218 in 2007
132 in 2008
177 in 2009
220 so far, in 2010

This is, for some undisciplined reason, the most blogposty year so far.
Yet when I looked, I thought I'd been neglecting the blog this year, came very close, a couple of times to ditching it.
And I still don't know what it's about, or how I'd describe it if I had to categorise.


'Blog', it is said, is a contraction of web-log. Maybe once upon a time there were navigators, navigatrices of the interweb, who kept a log "Captain's log, stardate:****. At three-bells in the forenoon watch there was a voltage spike that caused the screen to flicker.
Noonday sights threw up a '404 not found' error. Connectivity good, but graphics loading slowly. Have sent a party to resplice the optic cabling near the street nexus.
All well...........
Argh!!! crew has gone berserk and is hammering on my door..... I will defend myself with the fire-axe, as best I can... if I do not return, pray for me...."


Should I quit?




Saturday, 11 December 2010

We Had a Break-In

Into an empty office, from adjoining premises. They cut a steel grille, smashed the double-glazed window. The windows are tinted obscured glass, you can't see in.
The office was unoccupied, and nothing was stolen.

What they missed was the carpet. It's value, according to auctioneers who sold some furniture from those offices, is over £1200. About $1900.
We've moved it out of there now.

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2 Pee, Or Not 2 Pee.

That is the question.
One of friday's jobs involved a flooded shop due to a burst pipe.  On further investigation, the toilet upstairs was seen to be frozen solid... Down to the very bottom. The water in the tank was also as liquid as a brick. Surprisingly, the ice had not split the porcelain.
There's a little wall mounted heater, low powered, about 100 watts, or less, in the room. But it was not turned on. The tenant was surprised that the pipes had frozen. They're on the uninsulated outside wall, and the night-time temperatures have been hitting -10C or thereabouts for the last couple of weeks, daytimes have rarely climbed above freezing.

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Context

Potter and Blogger gz, in her latest post, tells of a cold day in a market hall, where she sold nothing.
This in the gift-buying season. Yes, it's cold, but not everybody is stuck in their burrow, waiting for spring.

Yet she sold nothing all day. Shivering, stomping feet, breath misting in the cold, and the pots to be packed up and all taken home again. Her pots? Take a look at her gallery pictures.

I commented to her:
"I'm very sorry to hear your sales woes.
That was the same stuff that demoralised me, packing up to go to a market or craft fair, and at the end of it, realising my sales had not paid the costs.

Context, context. Like you say, people devalue what they see in a market. Put the same pot on a pedestal in a white-painted gallery, and it's special, they understand that it has value, simply because of where it is.
Because people they think must somehow know more than them have elevated it.

How can we fix these skewed perceptions? Because the pot in the gallery is probably overvalued, just as the market undervalues. Where's the fair ground, the honest appraisal?
Who can do it? Who sets a value? We potters surely aren't the best judges of our own work.

Your experience led me to think of something I read quite a while ago.
Go here and read of an experiment:
http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2007/04/04/AR2007040401721.html
Imagine Shoji Hamada in Abergavenny.
"Well this one's not quite round, and the rim's uneven. Can I have it at half-price?"

 What do you think?

I leave you with a video, of world-renowned violinist Joshua Bell, playing in a subway station, on a three and a half million dollar stradivarius.
Three days earlier, he'd played to a packed house at the 2600  seat Boston's Symphony Hall, where seats were around $100.
Here, he took thirty two dollars in 45 minutes.

Yes, it was commuting time, we're time-constrained, but we have an acclaimed musician, and out of 1,097 passengers, only seven stopped to listen.
Context.
Perception of value.