july 29, 2022
I spoke with a friend last night about how I shoot for themes (books/exhibitions/etc), and it helps clarify when I should stop, where I should go, what deserves investigation. The basic concept is to put a draft concept of your exhibition/book/gallery/roll of film/etc into your head, and then only stop to shoot that. Skip every other shot, no matter how alluring.
I will freely admit that I am a digital packrat. It's not something that I'm proud of, though neither is it something that I'm ashamed of. That's not to say that it's value neutral — I certainly have feelings about it, most of which are tied to the importance of words (99% of what I keep are words, though there are a few A/V things that will touch a nerve for me) — just that there's no particular judgement involved.
The one thing I do keep around like a packrat, however, is tea. I'm a huge fan of pu'er, oolong, black (or "red") tea, and even if I don't I don't drink it every day, it's always a large part of my life in terms of seeing it, smelling it, simply being near it. There was a brief period where I thought I might get into collecting teaware, but eventually, I settled down into a few pieces that I use often and then a bunch I wound up with and never use. You can see a few above.
maddy said: i like it. it's tasty, it makes me feel good.
the friend said: well, that's dumb.
Included in the first two two pictures are two ceramic animals, both with a head in raw pottery and a matte glaze body. These are called tea pets, and for a lot of folks, they're merely a curiosity. For some, if you soak them in cold water before your tea session, pouring a bit of hot water or tea on them will cause them to spout a thin stream for a moment as the air temperature within raises.
These are pertinent to tea drinking mostly when it comes to gong fu style, wherein one brews tea in several small steeps, perhaps 10-15. The proportion of tea to water is much higher, and as such, steep times are much shorter, ranging from ten seconds at the beginning of a session to a minute at the end. The amounts of tea produced are also much smaller: the gaiwan shown above in the picture on the left, the one with the lid, is maybe 110ml, much of which will be taken up by tea as it expands, and thus each of the cups on the left hand side, will contain maybe 20-40ml of tea.
the friend asked: why do you drink tea?
maddy said: i don't know
the friend said: well, that's dumb
The benefits of this are not only that one gets to experience the tea over time — with each steep, the profile will change, and what may start out astringent with plenty of huigan, that bitterness that transmutes into sweetness, may open up into a smooth, comforting, caramel-y humus — but it also turns the act of drinking tea into part of the experience.
You lift the kettle and pour the hot water into the gaiwan sit and think while it steeps for however long, then you hold the lid of the gaiwan just slightly askew with the knuckle of your index finger while you hold the rim with thumb and your other fingertips and pour it into the chawan, the fairing glass that allows the tea to mix. This is because the tea at the top of the gaiwan will be weaker than the tea at the bottom, and you want each pour to be fair. Then you smell the gaiwan, or perhaps just the inside of the lid, and then pour the tea into the cups to drink.
the friend asked: why do you drink tea?
maddy said: i know: i don't know
the friend said: well, that's dumb
Or, well, you pour most of the tea into the cups. The last few milliliters are poured out over the tea pet. Maybe you do so because you like to see that thin stream of water jetting out, or maybe you like to let the dark tea form a patina on that glaze — the nice glazes will crack or "craze" under the temperature difference, which is not to say that they break, but the darker tea will stain along those lines first and leave a pleasing pattern in the porcelain.
Me? I pour tea over the tea pet because not all of this is for me. It is my little vanity. It is my little memento mori. It is a reminder that the world, the universe, that all of life and all of things are limitless and not all of that is for me. It's not even about keeping for myself what others might experience, but that my time is short, and even if my time were infinite, I could not see what others do because I cannot see from where they stand, and even if I were omnipresent, I could not experience what they feel, and even if I were omniscient, I could not know the feeling of not being omniscient in that moment.
the friend asked: why do you drink tea?
maddy said: i like it. it's tasty, it makes me feel good.
the friend laughed and clapped delightedly and said: perfect
then sat to drink tea with maddy.
Even when drinking tea "grandpa style", where a large glass contains whole tea leaves floating around in the hot water, one drinks only until the water reaches the top level of the leaves. Ostensibly, this is to keep the tea from drying out on top while the rest gets progressively more bitter. For me, though, it is one more way of knowing that not all of this is for me. I can't go back and drink the tea I left in the glass or that I poured over the tea pet.
This drives my mom batshit (ditto several commenters when I post about this, apparently). She's a boomer (a lovely one, granted!) and is quite taken by the idea that, should one make tea, one ought to be able to drink all the tea. It's a very contemporary mood, which is okay. That's not for me.
Skip every other shot, yes. Not all of this is for us; some of it is just for you. We will doubtless do the same, because not of this is for you.
Not all of this is for me.

