Already tired from walking to the museum, I entered the front door, presented my student card and hung up my coat. I resisted the temptation to visit the interesting art clothing on display in the museum shop. I had pre-decided to visit the ceramic gallery where I had seen some intriguing objects a few years ago.
I was sure I would find something worthy of writing about. I did find my object but it became embedded in a full experience of reverie during the visit. The name on the door “Koerner” brought me back to another gallery, an opening one summer evening when I had met Koerner, then in his nineties and still creating large contemporary landscape paintings.
He would not have remembered me but I was able to see the one whose paintings I had seen and loved around the city. I entered the quiet space feeling relieved that I was alone. I had a lot going on in my life and this I knew would give me some time to take a staycation from my personal challenges.
Right away, the grey space calmed my agitation. My breathing was like that of coming across an old friend, both fast and slow at the same time. I asked myself what I would choose of so many objets d’art from different countries and centuries for my treasure of the day.
I had gone only a few feet in and instinctively turned to the lit space on the left. Central to the glass case were plates with roses on them. As I clomped across the floor with my heavy winter boots I spied with my little eye a plate that would have been .
