catherine buca
The word vessel has French and Latin roots that mean “a small vase or urn,” and also “a ship.” The dual sense of the word persists in English: to us a vessel is both a hollow container (in which to pour dreams and ashes, wine and memories) and a craft that carries a cargo of brave souls across vast, wild waters, seeking out new worlds.
And there is yet a third allusion, to the vigorous canals and channels of the body that bear blood between the heart and the organs—and a fourth, to a human being who in his or her very person conveys the vital ideas and emotions of another. Whatever a vessel may hold, however good or evil, you can be sure it is of significance to its owner.
What then should we make of a vessel that is empty? Is this urn waiting to be filled with some precious substance, or has it been bereft of an ancient load? To whom does it belong, and what were its intended contents? Will someone soon arrive to bear it away from this shelf, and when they do will we see their dim shade in its smooth curves?
This photograph is both a gift and an invitation. Bend close, and let your treasure or your poison spill into this expectant container. Reflected in its glass you may observe what you hold most dear, or what you wish to seal away.
Blog photograph copyrighted to the photographer and used with permission by utata.org. All photographs used on utata.org are stored on flickr.com and are obtained via the flickr API. Text is copyrighted to the author, meerasethi and is used with permission by utata.org. Please see Show and Share Your Work
