Cup plate 1830 - 1835

Curator: Here we have a glass cup plate, crafted sometime between 1830 and 1835. Its anonymous creation resides here at The Art Institute of Chicago. Editor: Funny, it looks a bit like a petri dish, only instead of bacteria, it holds tiny bits of forgotten soot. Melancholy and minimalist all at once. Curator: Let’s unpack that minimalist label. Consider the concentric rings, how they play with light. Note also the precise geometric forms—purely functional, of course, yet the craftsmanship transcends utility. The edge detailing is repetitive and exacting. Editor: Precisely boring? No, no, I take it back. There is an undeniable allure to this simplicity, especially given its age. Imagine the hands that touched it, the conversations it overheard. Tea time in an age where conversation probably flowed slowly like molasses. Curator: Observe, the unadorned transparency! This wasn't meant to conceal; it was designed to hold. Reflect upon the historical context. These plates served a crucial role. As people in the 1800s drank tea or coffee, they would pour excess liquid from their cups into the saucers, and subsequently onto these small, individual glass plates. A method of avoiding a burnt tongue while practicing good manners, how revolutionary! Editor: It’s a tiny stage, almost, for the dance of a teacup. Or a lone maraschino cherry contemplating existence. All that fuss for a little glass thing! But here we are. Talking about it. And that's not nothing. Curator: It demonstrates that everyday objects, elevated by function, are capable of significant aesthetic achievement. Editor: And maybe the key to true art is precisely its unassuming accessibility. You’ve given me so much to ponder. Thanks!