“Flowerless”
I am a glass vase in a glass case. How ridiculous? I should not be here. I had always been filled with flowers of beautiful hues and aromas. There are no aromas here. It may even be a vacuum. I am accompanied by plates with no food and jars of no liquid. Why am I here?
The blend of reds, oranges and yellows could accentuate any bouquet now stand on their own. Alone. To be judged by passerbys. My many slanted pillars supplied my glorious arrangements with places of rest for their weary stems. Where are they? Where am I?
I once stood proudly in the center of a stately wooden table. I was almost always the only occupier of the table, but never alone. Now I rest on a shelf with pieces of similar design and age. Definitely alone. Flowerless, waterless, lifeless.
I am the tallest on my shelf. Do I stand out? My uniform ridges shimmer in the dull lighting of the case. But I do not shine like I once did. The monthly cleaning will never wash away my life that once was. Flowerless.
July 10, 2009 at 3:00 pm |
We were all so impressed with this! I wonder-you said you had the idea to do this before we came to the museum– why? what gave you the idea?
July 10, 2009 at 3:04 pm |
Wow! I am going to go home and look at my vases that are flowerless and say thank you for waiting for me and the flowers. Beth(Pre-K)
July 10, 2009 at 3:11 pm |
I love the description you have given. I can see the colors so well. But I feel sorry for the vase. I want to take it home and then I would have to give the officials your story as my excuse to break the law. It seems so sad, like it wants to go to a house and sit on a shelf. At least on that shelf it might have a chance at flowers. I wonder if the artist would really have wanted it in this sterile environment? You are a great writer.
Anne
July 10, 2009 at 3:16 pm |
I was thinking of things that could be a metaphor for the glass vase. Sheltered children, battered women, widows, aging pro-sport stars. You made me think beyond your words. Powerful. Well done.
Lorie
July 10, 2009 at 3:22 pm |
I agree with Lori on the metaphor. I think of the empty nest syndrome, nursing home residents with sharp minds and failing bodies, mothers who have lost children.
Maybe the vase should be happy in its circumstances, and make friends with the other vases, go on vase outings, or fix vase pot luck luncheons.
Or appreciate the new beauty of the museum and not look back at past triumphs and tragedies, but love the one your with.
July 10, 2009 at 3:26 pm |
There is an irony about art musuems. This was not what the art was created for. Especially when it is an artifact for something real like a vase or plate. Their beauty has placed them here, but do they long to be where they belong?
Megan