Mosquito Smoker 19th century

Editor: We're looking at "Mosquito Smoker," an earthenware piece dating back to the 19th century, currently housed at the Met. It's… charmingly utilitarian? The irises painted on it add such a delicate contrast to its function. What springs to mind for you when you see it? Curator: Ah, yes, it whispers stories, doesn't it? Beyond its purpose, I imagine twilight in a Meiji-era garden. The curling smoke carrying a scent, part earthy, part medicinal, keeping the bugs at bay. But it is also lovely. Imagine the maker, carefully applying the slip, thinking of form, function, and beauty as being fundamentally intertwined. This little smoker transforms a mundane task into something graceful. Editor: It's interesting how a practical item becomes elevated with artistic touches. Are the irises significant? Curator: In Japanese art, the iris, or *shobu*, symbolizes protection and purification – a little wish interwoven into everyday life. The Japanese aesthetic of the time saw no distinction between what’s pragmatic and poetic, everything was inherently connected. This is about beauty, too, wouldn't you agree? It also makes me wonder about the user – were they thinking about it the same way as we are now? Did they appreciate the small artistry in everyday living as we might do, viewing from our 21st-century pedestal? Editor: That really adds a different layer! To see past its usefulness to its artistic essence opens my eyes a bit to this particular piece and beyond it. Curator: Exactly. Sometimes, the most humble objects hold the greatest wisdom. It makes us appreciate our existence, not because of great gestures, but these tiny moments, don't you think? Editor: Definitely. This smoker is unexpectedly inspiring. Thanks for illuminating the artistry within the everyday, beyond the pragmatic need.