Object| Timepiece|How does the “new” come into being?

BOVET unveils a symbolic timepiece rich in symbols for”only Watch 2011″


I was few Blogs away behind, writing and editing old posts, when the chime of the prompt post: Object, dinged. And, I had no time, neither to  catch up with the past prompts,  nor to think about it. During the break, I had  a tiny moment to  read a quote of the day from Mr. Alec Lee-Nevela, wich  actually it  fell  à propos: how does new come into being?


Fashion of Time

At that moment I had no answer for the question. It might be uplifting as it seamed at first but it wouldn’t be nifty as .  Yet, I had to wait until I went  back  home. Usually_ I conceive a passion for classical music, more particularly for Puccini, and for watercolor panting; an old hobby, a guilty pleasure that I affectionate for longtime. For that, I mean the panting, I have gathered over  time, a multitude of objects, that I used for textures, lights, and specific stokes, all weird-looking tools as well, as one might think, at first glance.

So, I read the prompt and looked around for a singular trove; from a cristal-glass bucket that used to be for cooling a bottle of champagne, that  found in garage-sale, which I use it ,instead,  as bowl full of water to paint and wash in my watercolor brushes ;  to an expensive  Siberian Blue squirrel hair-quill that I got in Christmas – my wish, as a gift from my daughter. Then, I was lost in contemplation, in front of a cut-n’ past  panel of Quotes of the day, that I pined au fil- temps, while listing to ” Caruso”_Puccini, a vinyl.  Then, the train of thoughts  made it  way, hill and dale,  through a landscape  of weirdness and familiar things.  I found myself thinking;  an object, but which is,  it don’t mean a thing, so I shuddered  to some,  to   turn  my eyes to stop on a zen drawing, to look to  a  timepiece, a  family heirloom lunging aside , in  a last forlorn attempt. Hours I read  a book about Zen in the Japanese culture, by Daisetz Suzuki,  it said about the place of objects in meditation, like a hanging scroll into an alcove, with a theme carefully chosen by the host, with a bamboo plant pined aside. There is a story also, about a broken caldron, yielded and bought a second time by  a master of tea ceremony, after he sold to an aficionado merchant, this is to say.

I had the laptop on my lap and a bunch of ideas jostling in my head, and I was “itching for words”, in the same way , the Poet Stevenson was;  I want  to express them in words, suddenly  I googled the word timepiece and got  the image above; it resumed a lump  of symbols,  and debris that we call meanings, in a word: Object


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