The little porcelain maker

(10 min read)

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In a small town in one of the most beautiful parts of this earth, the little porcelain maker opened her shop. She was satisfied with everything that Mother Earth had provided for her. The atelier was a cosy and sunny room with big windows. The workbench stood on one side of the room just so that she could enjoy the warmth of the sun while she was working. It was a real pleasure to look at the variety of colourful inks that were stored in pots on shelves that covered the whole wall. Whenever she wanted, she could open the window and listen to the singing of the birds and the rustling of the trees that came in from the little garden in front of the house. On the other side of the atelier there was a her very own corner of inspiration where she could snuggle up and immerse herself in music, books or meditation whenever she wasn't being creative with her art. It was her little refuge and she loved it. She felt so secure and comfortable.

 

The show room with the main door to the street was a lot smaller, but it had big windows. Through these the little porcelain maker could observe the world. And this is what she did during the first days that she spent in her new home. She pulled up a big armchair and looked outside. All kinds of people walked past her window. Some walked fast, others slowly. Some deep in conversation, others in silence. Some were dressed in many colours, others more in grey and black. Some were really expressive and energetic, others quiet and seemingly in their own little world. And she saw many shops like hers. "I suppose they all make porcelain like me.", she thought to herself.

 

One day she felt she had seen enough and eagerly started working on her art. With a lot of love and dedication she created one porcelain figurine after the other and placed it carefully onto the shelves and tables in the show room. Each figurine was unique and different from the others in colour, form and size. Every time she carefully and proudly carried another figurine to the show room she noticed how more and more people stopped in front of her window and looked or nearly stared at her art with curiosity. The little porcelain maker felt a lot of joy and wished to meet all those people. At the same time, however, she felt insecure and intimidated. Why did some of them stare so much? Was something wrong? Did I place the figurines too close to one another? Or too far apart? Or should I maybe arrange them by colour?" Until now she had just followed her intuition.

 

Then came the day when she decided to open her shop and let people in. It didn't take long for the first visitors to enter. She welcomed each of them personally and observed how they wandered through the show room. Some just dropped in and left quite quickly, others stayed a while and talked to the little porcelain maker. Most of the times the visits were interesting and beautiful moments, but sometimes it was really tough and exhausting. There were those who didn't appreciate her art and gave her well-meant advice on how to improve. The porcelain was way too fragile, they said. Surely something could be done about that, maybe make it harder. The little porcelain maker first listened politely and then explained that porcelain is indeed a very fragile material but so rich in detail and beauty. And that was what made it so special.

 

The visitors didn't always pay a lot of attention to what she said or tried to understand. The days on which lots of those visitors came to see her she was really exhausted in the evening. And every now and then she received visitors with huge backpacks on their shoulders. They only moved with difficulty and were so distracted by the weight on their backs that they had little energy left to enjoy her art. When they turned they often hit the shelves and tables with their backpacks and one porcelain figurine after another went to pieces. The little porcelain maker felt so sorry for these people that she offered to remove some of the things from the backpack. As the showroom was too small and she didn't know what to do with the stuff, she dropped it into a corner of her atelier. "Never mind. It doesn't matter. Poor people. It's not their fault. Tomorrow I'll simply make new figurines.", she thought and quickly swept the broken pieces into a pile and then took care of her visitors.

 

And then there were those visitors who simply didn't care about the fact that porcelain is fragile and tossed the figurines from one person to the other so that everyone could have a look. Again, the little porcelain maker took the time to talk to them and explain how to treat this delicate material, but often without any success. She somehow sensed that these people didn't understand her and she was wondering why. More and more fine pieces of art went to pieces. Some visitors felt bad about it and promised to be more careful in the future. Others reacted with anger, accusations and criticism. It was awful and the little porcelain maker was deeply ashamed. "How embarrassing! No one wants to see such broken art. But what to do with it? Well, maybe it's best to put them under the tables. The cloth will keep them from sight and everything will look neat and beautiful." And there they went and piled up until the broken parts peaked out nearly everywhere. "Maybe there is a way to make the porcelain less fragile. Or I could make bigger figurines and give them less details. It's just too sensitive." And the little porcelain maker sat on her workbench day after day and created figurines until late and in the evening hours she brooded over how to improve her art.

 

Every so often her eyes wandered over to the corner to the pile of things that she had taken off her visitor’s backs. There was little time in her days to take care of her corner of inspiration or clean the windows so that less and less light came through from the garden and many a figurine was wrapped in bleak and gloomy colours and her world became less colourful and full of life. And not to mention the floor of the show room. Everything that people brought in on the soles of their shoes got stuck on the rough surface and she although she spent hours cleaning some dirt never came off.

 

The little porcelain maker had tried so many things. She had followed her visitors personally to show them the best way through her shop and at the same time rescue her figurines that were in danger of falling to the floor. But that took so much of her precious time that she could barely create anything new. She had also hired a watchman who was supposed to explain to all visitors how to behave inside the shop and to stop a certain type of person to enter. But too many didn't pay attention and strode past him into the shop without pausing to listen. So the watchman became weary and wanted more and more rewards for his efforts. The little porcelain maker understood his pains and gave him whatever she could. But the day came when she didn't have anything more to give and was lacking what she needed to live so she found herself forced to fire the watchman and close her shop. She locked the door and put some thick curtains into the show room windows.

 

Many days went past that she spent cuddled up in her corner of inspiration that suddenly felt so cold and empty. What was wrong? She looked around the room and noticed with great dismay the dirty window. How could she possibly have missed that? She just couldn't survive without sunlight. So she stood up, cleaned the window and looked into the garden. To see the rich green of the trees and bushes and to feel the warm sun gently stroking her face was honey for her soul. Unfortunately, the sun did not only lighten up her face but also the pile of stuff that she had taken off of the backpackers. It was just everywhere she looked and created an immense chaos. Not much was visible anymore of her little and beloved refuge. The little porcelain maker sat down and cried bitter tears.

 

"What am I supposed to do with all this stuff? And where to begin? What have I done?" She was crestfallen and buried her face in her hands. Suddenly she heard a gentle knock on the front door and somebody calling her name. Carefully she opened the door and looked outside. It was a candlemaker who had been to her shop several times and had shared beautiful conversations with the little porcelain maker. She let her inside and even invited her to her atelier. She felt quite ashamed because of the mess. She barely found a place for her friend to sit down. But this was of no importance to the candlemaker who found herself a little spot where she made herself comfortable. She gave the little porcelain maker her undivided attention and listened to her pains and sorrows. "Come with me. Let's go for a walk.", she said when everything was out. And so they left the house. What the little porcelain maker was about to see and experience was going to change her life forever.  To this day she is grateful for all the light that this beautiful day had brought into her life.

 

Slowly they made their way through the neighbourhood that surrounded the porcelain makers shop. She saw things that she had never noticed before. In the end she had only seen those people who came by her shop, but she had never known where and how they live. She had kind of assumed that all of them had little porcelain ateliers like she did. They did all have their shops and ateliers but none of them was like hers. She was filled with astonishment and soaked in all that she could touch with her eyes and ears. There was the stone mason whose shop was marked by rough and robust figurines and shiny surfaces on walls and floors. It was so loud in there that she had to cover her ears with her hands. It seemed to her that in order to work stone one had to apply a lot more for than with porcelain. And all the dust that fell on the floor could just be swept up with a broom and brought outside. Nothing got stuck there like it did in her show room. In another shop she met a wood carver. The whole shop smelled of nature and even the floor was made of this wonderful material. The figurines were of any shade of brown imaginable and some were softer than others. When she left the shop, she noticed a sign on the door that said: "No fire!" "What a brilliant idea! Maybe not everyone knows that wood burns easily?", the little porcelain maker thought to herself.

 

Next to the wood carver was the shop of the seamstress. Everything in there was soft and colourful. She saw loads and loads of cuddly toy animals that you could squeeze and hug. The floor was covered by a beautiful rug that could be taken outside and shaken out until all the dirt was gone. "Another amazing idea! Maybe I find a good solution for my floor too.", she thought happily. Next door lived a bronze artist. Everything in his shop had the same colour and still, each piece of art was different and unique. It was warm and cosy; maybe you could even say it was hot. And next door the diamond cutter and next to that the knitter. And so they walked and walked and walked and bit by bit the little porcelain maker understood that each material had its very own properties and way of being worked. Wood and stone, for example, were robust and could be thrown around as they don't break that easily. And there was a certain way of exhibiting the art too. Her head was buzzing from all these impressions and new ideas but she hadn't felt this light and happy for a long time. 

 

When they finally arrived back to her shop the scales fell from her eyes and she realised that she hadn't seen one porcelain maker's shop in the whole neighbourhood. How could that be? "Come and visit me and you'll be surprised. Every neighbourhood is different and in mine there are lots of porcelain makers. Your art is so precious and wonderful. You don't have to change a thing. But you can think about moving closer to my neighbourhood. There you'll find more people who have seen porcelain before and also lots of your cousins. And at the same time, you won't be far from all those you have made friends with here." The little porcelain maker swayed her head from side to side and thought it through. She had become so used to her little refuge and the thought of giving it up wasn't easy for her. But it was really tempting to just use the chance to go through her stuff and make a fresh start.

 

So she mustered all the courage that she could find and started working. In the beginning it was hard work to sift through all those useless things that she had collected. But she was in no rush and her friend the candlemaker visited her many times. On some of those visits she brought along a friend who would help. She seemed to know exactly what was needed each time. One friend helped to sort through the things, another one was strong an helped her to carry out the biggest pieces and one day another porcelain maker came along. She was a gift from heaven, as she taught the little porcelain maker how to repair all those figurines that lay broken under the tables. She had invented a special glue that left transparent fissures in the porcelain that let the light shine through. And just like that the old art became new art and were very dear to the little porcelain maker. Each repaired figurine carried a story.

 

A new shop was soon found right on the border of the two neighbourhoods and in her atelier, she had a workbench and a corner of inspiration just like in her old place. She enjoyed the rustling of the trees and the singing of the birds whenever she opened the window that lead to the garden in front of her house.

 

On the front door she put up a big and colourful sign. "Fragile and precious! Please handle the art with kid gloves!" was written on it. Just next to the front door she had placed a beautifully decorated wooden box in which the backpackers could drop all those things that they didn't need anymore. As soon as it was full, the little porcelain maker emptied it outside. And next to the box was a little shoe shelf where the visitors could leave their shoes for the time that they spent in the shop. Like this all the dirt on their shoes stayed outside and instead of spending hours with cleaning the floors the little porcelain maker could sit comfortably in her corner of inspiration and enjoy life. She had also put up curtains in the big shop window that she could close whenever she felt like it.

 

She felt so happy and confident. And she was really looking forward to all the beautiful things life had in stock for her from now on.

 

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