How to Make Magic

In the early mornings, before school, I would often lean against the closet doors near my mother’s makeup table. I’d witness the transformation, and often find my gaze wander over to some of the knick-knacks on glass shelves that adorned the altar. There were beautiful little figurines she got in Singapore - their delicately carved faces rolling in a socket to display either a smile, or a scowl. Some lovely clay-crafted faeries on logs in a pale pastel rainbow.

And there was this strange porcelain egg-shaped vessel. A face emerging from the clouds.

My brother and I have never fought over any of my mother’s belongings since her passing, and we didn’t argue about this one, either…but it was one of the few that I would most certainly have caused a fuss over. I’ve been enamored with this odd little thing since as long as I was aware of its existence. It even inspired some of my own ceramic work in college.

I think you can then imagine how I may have reacted when, out of the blue, a fellow artist shared with me that she, too, owned a vessel just like my mother’s. I cried, ok. A lot.

Not only was it clearly from the same artist, but it featured a rainbow. A symbol that I find very special. At first I was simply so thrilled to know that more of these beautiful creations existed out there, and then the thought crossed my mind to ask this fellow artist if she might sell it to me.

But I didn’t dare. Knowing how special mine was to me, I assumed its sibling must also be very special to her.

And then, unprompted, she offered to gift it to me. And I cried a whole lot more. Obviously.

It makes me happy to see these two side by side. And to think that maybe, one day, my son will find one for himself and add it to the collection.

Not long after the sibling vessel arrived, my partner and I picked up a new book for our son. The Tea Dragon Society by Katie O’Neill. In it (besides a completely charming and sweet story) was this sentiment:

“…I want to keep making objects for people to love and give them a story. Maybe one day, someone’ll think about who gave it to them or where they bought it. Or who they shared it with. Or who owned it long ago.

…That’s a kind of magic, isn’t it?”

If there’s anything that art of all kinds has proven to me, again and again, it’s that this is true.

It is a kind of magic.