My mother was British, and she married my father while he was in England. I know that originally they had tried to raise their family there, but my father, after college, found earning a living there, and finding adequate housing in the UK difficult, and so the couple moved first to California with his own family, and then eventually when he got a very good job, to the East Coast. This move was not without its challenges though. My mother missed her sisters, her parents and friends very much, and their choice to raise a family in a rural home resulted in some degree of isolation for her.
My mother was a lover of Wedgwood jasperware. Not only did it remind her of England, and its history, but my parents had been given a number of pieces as wedding presents. For her, it was symbolic of people and familiar places, and of a life left behind. When my parents had restored their post Civil War manse, it was decorated with Wedgwood jasperware. My mother preferred the pale "Wedgwood" blue, but ultimately also had navy blue pieces, some older blue cobalt blue pieces, some green and the yellow "primrose" variety also.
The Winters in rural Northwestern NJ were long, and the snows were often deep. My brother and I were therefore relegated through the Winter, after sledding etc. to large stretches of time inside, with the television, with books and occasionally even board games. A few times, my brother and I inadvertently broke a piece of Wedgwood. I believe, in total, we broke two ashtrays and some years later, I broke a larger dish. When Wedgwood became broken my mother yelled, cried, and then withdrew. Even as children, we realized how special these tokens of her life from England were. We hadn't intended to break them, and yet, they were in our living room, in an era when families didn't also have a family room or play room. Breakage had been inevitable, and yet we felt badly having done it.
Over the years, my mother's collection gradually grew, and her children grew up and no longer played with Nerf balls in the formal living room. After college, I began to set up my own home. You would think that English Wedgwood might not have appealed to me when I used to get into so much trouble on the rare occasion that I broke one. I was fortunate that my first few pieces came to me from consignment shops. I also didn't really care if they were the traditional blue. I liked almost all the colors of Wedgwood jasperware, and so I was quite happy with any that I could afford.
When my children were born, I moved a couple of pieces off coffee tables, but most of it I left out. It existed to be enjoyed. However, I told myself that when my own children broke it, that I didn't want them feeling as badly as I had, and so I decided to make people more important than things. If they broke a piece, I decided that I would try to repair it, and if I couldn't be, then I wouldn't be upset about it.
As my children grew, Wedgwood jasperware fell out of vogue for a time, and I was able to purchase even some of the rare and antique pieces fairly cheaply. In addition, people who needed to give me a gift for Christmas or other occasions, knew I had Wedgwood, and so it tended to become the "go to" gift for me. During its less popular days, I amassed a significant collection of all colors, and then when my mother died, I inherited many of her pieces.
In all the years Wedgwood jasperware has graced my home, none of my five children, and the foster kids, ever broke any. One of my sons accidentally broke a piece of bone china in the master bedroom once, but they were injured sufficiently by it that we left in an ambulance and the child had stitches when the spurting blood had stopped. The grands haven't broken any either. I feel badly for my mother sometimes, thinking that when I broke hers, I wish I could have reached into the future and handed her whichever pieces she wanted, at that time. I appreciate the artistry, but it has never carried such symbolism that I would have been devastated when a piece of it was broken.
I am still fortunate enough to receive gifts of Wedgwood from time to time. My eldest son and his wife found a rare item when away, and presented it to me when they got back. When the 2011 earthquake hit, and broke homes in half, damaged the National Cathedral, the Rotunda at the University of Virginia, and caused two schools to be condemned and need to be rebuilt from scratch, I could have lost some Wedgwood then, but I didn't. A small but perfect piece of cloisonne on the mantle rolled off and was badly dented on the hearth, but all the Wedgwood was in its place. Consistent with my loving pieces for artistry and not necessarily value, it's still on the mantle, turned to show its perfect side.
If you like Wedgwood jasperware, although its price is recovering, it is still an excellent price considering the craftsmanship and the artistry. You might consider beginning your own collection of whatever varieties you like.
I have one last Wedgwood project going on in my home. I am having Wedgwood medallions embedded above the granite the surround of my fireplace. If it's good enough for Thomas Jefferson's Monticello, then it's certainly good enough for me.
From Jefferson's Monticello. Photograph by Michael Dunne
If I were to be honest, I think I would say that there is nothing wrong with loving things of beauty, whether they were made by God, as in the case of natural beauty, or made by man from the clays and materials left on Earth by God, for man to use. Loving items of beauty is fine, so long as we do not place them above people or they occupy too important a place in our lives.
