Art Theme Analysis

Tree-ear felt as though the sun had suddenly dimmed. The night before, sleep had not come easily. He had imagined himself at the wheel, a beautiful pot growing from the clay before him. Perhaps, he thought now, if he chopped enough wood quickly, there would still be time at the end of the day . . .

But once the process had been repeated three times, subsequent drainings did not seem to make a difference—at least, not to Tree-ear. He would squeeze his eyes shut, hold his breath, and rub the clay between his fingers, trying desperately to detect whatever was different about a fifth or sixth draining. What was it that Min felt? Why couldn’t Tree-ear feel it himself?

Tree-ear loved the symmetry of the prunus vases that grew on Min’s wheel.

“The melon shape is common enough now—I see it often,” Kim said. Tree-ear could hardly breathe. Did this mean that the man did not care for the piece?

“And yet this work is unmistakable,” he continued.

Tree-ear was rubbing the sediment between his fingers, as he always did. Suddenly, his fingertips tingled with a strange feeling. For some odd reason, he thought of a time when he had been on the mountainside, taking a break as he chopped wood. He had been staring into the forest greenery when a deer appeared in abrupt focus. It had been there all along, and he had been looking straight at it. But only at the last moment had he actually seen it.

It was the same now, only instead of seeing with his eyes, he was feeling with his hands. The clay felt good—fine, pliant, smooth—but not ready yet.

Across one side of the shard ran a shallow groove, evidence of the vase’s melon shape. Part of an inlaid peony blossom with its stem and leaves twined along the groove. And the glaze still shone clear and pure, untouched by the violence that had just been done it.

“My master works slowly.”

The emissary nodded solemnly. “As well he should.”