This summer, along with 18 other cohorts, I finished my Masters of Art from the Florence Academy of Art. We were required to both produce a classical still life painting and a written defense.

I had heard a podcast about the length of time plastics stay in our environment and why don't we consider them more valuable than just a throwaway item. I wanted to explore the idea of beauty and longevity in this painting. Here is my thesis painting. Below it you can read my defense. As an aside, this was painted with a Zorn Palette of Yellow Ochre, Cad Red Light, Black, and White.

Still Life Painting: Moroccan Tea Pot with Plastic Milk Container

Plastic is often made into vessels whose job is to hold something: water, milk, cream, sugar, groceries, etc....Plastic is ubiquitous and so common and seemingly cheap that once the container is used, the object is usually tossed out. Yet, in the environment it can take up to 500 years to break down. Along the way it leaves particles in our soil, waters, and bodies.

The metal tea pot will also last several hundred years. Along the way it may get dented, erode, lose a foot or handle, yet when it finally breaks down, its elements will return to the soil leaving little or no damage. 

My goal is to make the mundane plastic milk container have as much beauty as the old tea pot. I want the object to seem special enough that one might think twice before tossing it away. If plastic lasts hundreds of years, shouldn’t we treat it with more care in order to get as much use out of it as possible? Can this object be seen in a way that is more unique and beautiful that we might consider enjoying it for generations? This is my challenge.

There is an inherent  juxtaposition between the industrial-made (plastic) milk container and the Moroccan handmade copper and brass tea pot. The milk container is perfectly regular - the tea pot isn’t. The pot doesn’t stand squarely and there are other ‘imperfections’ that add character to the vessel. The milk container is perfectly constructed. It won’t wobble when set on a flat surface. If filled with liquid and frozen, it will expand a bit to hold the changed liquid. It is, in fact, plastic. 

If these two objects were put on the street with a sign that said, ‘free’, the tea pot would be snatched up and the bottle would be left as litter. Or, if lucky, the bottle would end up recycled into another object or piece of clothing. Most likely though, it would end up in a landfill or blown down the street and end up polluting either the land or the ocean. 

Despite the mundacity of the plastic jug, there was a fair amount of design and thought that went into its creation. It has a shape that refers back to an old milk bottle but updated with the addition of a slightly longer neck and area for the top to screw on. A color choice was made: The plastic is opaque, primarily white (possibly referring to the milk that it would be filled with) and a bright pink cap. When unscrewed, a bright pink band is left on the bottle. Are we seduced by the jovial pink color into thinking this object isn’t as ‘bad’ as its long term potential is? What is being masqueraded?

When I first thought of placing the two objects together (the plastic with the metal) in a still life painting, I was intrigued with the idea of the tradition of kintsugi, the Japanese art of repairing broken pottery pieces with gold. This Japanese philosophy feels that by embracing flaws and imperfections, one can create an even stronger and more beautiful piece of art. This Japanese philosophy is extracted and laid onto humanity. I wondered if I could do the same with the plastic?  Is it possible to imbue ‘soul’ in to the plastic container? Could I uplift this throw-away object into something that reflects more than what it is? 

When I set up the still life I was obviously considering the composition of objects: tea pot, bottle, cap. The basic construction is a traditional and stable triangle. The eye might start at the bright cap, linger for a bit, move to the bottle where the pink is repeated in the band and then move along the upward line to the tea pot where we see the contrast of its darker and more muted colors against the white plastic. Edges are lost into the grey-blue fabric background and we can rest our eyes a bit before moving down the pot, around its belly and then back to the pink cap which is resting solidly on the ground plane and slightly intersects the white angled column of the bottle re-joining those two wedded objects together. Your eye might first be drawn to the copper tea pot and then move around but regardless, the eye is moving both slowly and quickly around objects.

As I started painting the objects, especially the milk container, I felt my emotions go through a metamorphosis. I went from wholly objective, to having a dialogue to finally having a dialectic with the object(s). I felt as if I was adding part of my soul into the pieces in much the same way that Giuseppe did with Pinocchio. So, perhaps the human soul is what brings the repair to the plastic milk container through careful consideration of color, rendering, and craft, elevating it to something more that just a piece of plastic that would be tossed when emptied.

At times I was very objective as I noticed subtle hue differences - muted blues, muted yellows, subtle pinks - all within a rather narrow value range. The matte plastic has softer edges in the highlights than how they are expressed on the metal. As I got more and more into the challenge of the milk container I felt like I was having to slow down and get to know it better. We’ve all had students or kids that are not easy to deal with, but underneath their challenging behavior there are things to be appreciated. I felt the same way about this plastic bottle: it is difficult but worthy of the challenge. 

This painting it taught me a great deal: to slowing down and consider the forms as a whole. Playing with the juxtapositions of chroma. Expressing the very different materials in a way that read as true. Having to use a color palette that wasn’t easily predisposed to the pink in the cap which forced me to use color interaction so that it read as ‘true’. Perspective of the plastic bottle and really noticing the negative shapes. And finally, playing with warm and cools to bring visual interest in a way that teases and delights the eye without being obvious. 

So, will I keep the plastic milk bottle? Yes. I will add it to my collection of still life objects and I will paint it again and find, perhaps, even more beauty in it.