Peculiar Nature of Vases
There’s something quietly strange about vases. They’re everywhere, yet they never fully blend in. Meant to hold flowers, sure—but beyond that, they don’t do much. They’re fragile. Easy to chip, easy to break. Always one small bump away from disappearing. And yet, they’re treated like essentials—centerpieces on tables, tucked into corners, perched on shelves. Vases ask for care. Cleaning, refilling, placing them just right. They’re more high-maintenance than they let on. But maybe that’s part of their charm. They don’t try to be useful in the usual way. They’re single-purpose, decorative, and still somehow feel necessary.
Over time, I’ve tattooed a lot of vases. Porcelain, too. It’s one of my favorite themes to work with—something about the contrast between delicate objects and permanent ink keeps pulling me back. In a world obsessed with practicality, vases just exist—delicate, a little impractical, but quietly holding space. Maybe that’s enough.