The Patience of Ordinary Things
It is a kind of love, is it not? / How the cup holds the tea, / How the chair stands sturdy and foursquare, / How the floor receives the bottoms of shoes / Or toes. How soles of feet know / Where they’re supposed to be. / I’ve been thinking about the patience / Of ordinary things, how clothes / Wait respectfully in closets / And soap dries quietly in the dish, / And towels drink the wet / From the skin of the back. / And the lovely repetition of stairs. / And what is more generous than a window?
This poem—by American writer and teacher Pat Schneider (1934-2020)—resonated with me deeply the moment I saw it shared on Instagram. I do think many of us may feel a force radiated by the inanimate objects we own—a certain kind of affection. I experience it exuded by my coffee mug and tea cup. The first marks the beginning of my work day, the second signals that I just have a few hours left—soon I will be chewing half of a melatonin gummy to be able to sleep soundly. I also find an extraordinary warmth given off by my clothes and accessories. Over the past three years, I have gone on two major shopping sprees, each lasting fifteen days. I batched multiple small trips into these periods so that I wouldn’t disrupt my professional life. All the dresses, skirts, trousers and tops that I carefully chose and gathered wait patiently now, folded and stacked, hooked and hanging. I marvel at how ready and convivial they are whenever I take them out before important meetings.
These inanimate items offer us silent companionship that we bask in everyday and are not usually conscious of. If it were taken away from us, our lives would be left denuded and impoverished. Together these non-living things create an atmosphere of sustenance for us.
Searching more about Pat Schneider I encountered the website The Dewdrop that had a beautiful response to her poem: “If ever there was an antidote to the idea of a hostile world against which we are perpetually opposed, it’s this. The acknowledgement of a fundamental calm, the respectful patience of the ordinary things that wait to receive us and serve us in our day to day, without asking for anything in return. The volumes we can learn from this quiet form of love, and the nourishment that can be received if we are open to it.”
The uncomplaining and unceasing generosity of clothes, cups, soaps, towels, staircases, windows, notebooks, blankets, pillows near us—if we pay attention to it—might make us feel as though ultimate reality, being itself, is affable and agreeable. It is for us, our growth and prosperity—and not our deterioration. It is hard to not see the entire cosmos as gracious by extension when you truly perceive the complying courteousness of your pen or plate.
I can connect Schneider’s lines with the book “The Poetics of Space” (1957) by French philosopher Gaston Bachelard (1884-1962). He imagined the human making an impression on the house and vice versa. The house bends towards the human with munificent personal attributes—receiving, holding, protecting and comforting him or her. Its marks are inscribed upon us.
Bachelard writes “over and beyond our memories, the house we were born in is physically inscribed in us. It is a group of organic habits. After twenty years, in spite of all the other anonymous stairways; we would recapture the reflexes of the ‘first stairway’, we would not stumble on that rather high step. The house’s entire being would open up, faithful to our own being. We would push the door that creaks with the same gesture, we would find our way in the dark to the distant attic. The feel of the tiniest latch has remained in our hands.”
Our home is our first and most immediate universe. Upon regarding it carefully, we will find that every element of it—functional or decorative—has a pronounced individuality. We all know that visual artists have always been aware of this fact and have given expression to it using different styles—focusing on and elevating with dedication and fondness the most nondescript yet unchanging pieces of our living rooms, kitchens and bathrooms that we normally take for granted.
The encounter with “The Patience of Ordinary Things” motivated me to highlight artists here celebrating ordinary aspects of our homes in simple, gorgeous ways—not the artists found on the rosters of major galleries. I have chosen them, instead, from Saatchi Art. They are Vita Schagen (the Netherlands), Mark Reynolds (the US), Anne Zamo (France) and Sarah Ann Mitchell (the UK). Their works match with the lines of the poem. I could have easily missed these painters in the chaos and variety available online, just how we may fail to acknowledge the gentle and important presence of our ordinary domestic items lured by the noise and extravagance of the world.
By Tulika Bahadur
