this japanese hand-blown glass teacup has been keeping me company lately. i spotted it at teavana’s discount shelf over the weekend sitting alone amongst the other teacup pairs and sets.

the petals hold together so tightly; blankets upon blankets rolled into one comfortable mass, a perfect orb. but when it’s time to bloom comes a chaotic rush, overflowing layers pour out from the midst in imperfect shades of white, tainted shades of white. quite naturally you reach out to brush your fingertips across the flower’s surface. its ruffles meet you half-way, heavenly redolent waves, and you can’t help but think to yourself, “what a strangely abrasive name for a blossom of the opposite nature.”

minor white has been lingering in my mind ever since my visit to the metropolitan museum of art a month ago. the way he captures light is quaint, ethereal, and as such, light becomes the presence-in-absence in his photographs, not just there to accentuate subjects but to paint them with a different reality. click after the jump to see more of my favourite white works.

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