A two-handled earthenware jar rests on top of an oak chest bound in iron struts inside of a dim space.The two objects from 15th century Europe are made of materials that contradict their shared identity as enclosed volumes.Individually, each originated as a carefully crafted object made from raw materials pressed and joined together or merged into a whole and now remains as a physical artifact draped inside of an invisible and unique historical context.Juxtaposed, jar above chest, in the Metropolitan Museum of Art the differing material and space they occupy and define propose two separate outlooks onto the existence of an enclosed space.

The choices made in the placement of the two-handled jar and the chest inside of the Metropolitan are important for the construction of the specific image and impact that together they make up.Situated against an earthy yellow wall to the far left side in a dim chapel-like room they do not control the space.Easily overlooked, the jar and the chest present a sense of mystery when they are actually noticed.They pose an immediate and obvious question: why are these two objects in such a strange relation to each other?Instead of being separate entities the simple positioning of the jar on top of the chest re-forms them as a single object or thesis made of two parts.Approaching the question of their relationship visually and without historical context it appears that their tie to each other is not concrete in nature but is founded on their differing opinions on the defining of a space.

This connection between the two is intangible but is created from the character of their individual arrangement of tangible raw material.The chest is rectangular in form and rests solidly on top of four thick wooden legs.The individual sections of the chest are bound together by slats of flattened iron nailed into the surface.Each slat ends in a roughly beaten out Fleur de Lis.The relationship between iron and wood is tenuous.At certain places across the chest the iron has bent, curling away from the surface of the wood, arching upwards between two nails, or thinning and disappearing entirely.The wood is cracked and broken along the edges and water has cast a darker pallor onto various locations where now the oak is rotted and black.The soft lighting of the room accentuates the chest's age.Dragged roughly through time the chest appears as a definite container, a restrictive casing not unlike a coffin.The chest is a vessel designed not only to store but also to control and hide away.If the space inside of the chest is imagined as a malleable thing it does not exist free from pressure but is crushed, smeared, and pushed against each interior face.The space is a compacted unit with every surface pressed against rough oak, prodded by sharp iron, and for centuries, left in the dark.This inherent violence in the chest is in stark contrast to the smooth white and seafoam green jar that rests on top of it.

The two-handled jar is expansive and serene in comparison to the chest.The arcs of the braided handles move: undulating up and then drifting back down.They perambulate away from the glazed earthenware surface and then back.The fat body of the jar makes for slow movement.Wide curves define a thick neck and gently sloping trunk ending with barely a subtracting taper.Green illustrations portray a deer and several wavy decorative motifs in a register format.The jar is tranquil but not without movement.Imagine a lugubrious summer stream stretching through a shaded thicket and the sound that it produces is that akin to the existence of the space defined by the jar.From the surroundings of the jar the air seems to be drank slowly through the ellipse of its lips and then pass out again like a sigh.

The nature of the space inside of the two-handled jar is due just as much to the material of its composition as to its shape.Pearly white majolica with seafoam green glazes allow for the weight of its shape to lessen.Inside of a Plexiglas case set on top of a smooth wooden base the smooth jar seems insulated from the scarred and torn surface of the oak chest.From the interaction of the Plexiglas and the light shining dimly from the ceiling an ethereal rectangle of light is cast onto the muddy yellow wall behind the two objects.With this floating rectangle of light amidst the gloom of the simulated chapel and the glinting of light on the curves of the jar the chest assumes a heavier and more foreboding presence. But, simply because the jar is smoother and more tranquil in nature does not make it any less mysterious.

It is the tactility of the touching objects, the pressing of one weight onto another that draws the two objects together into a whole.The materiality of each object is unique to itself but in inarguable connection to that of the other.Black iron and white earthenware act as counterpoints and balances.A tensed pressure felt in the space inside of the oak and ironbound chest and an almost humorous freedom in the space of the earthenware jar.The relationship between the chest and the jar in the dim of the room is like a conversation where one speaker, a deep bass, argues gravely and the other laughing, flirts innocently.But together, as earthenware jar on top of oak chest they speak to the shared mysterious raw energy of materials in combination working to define the very character of a specific space.Spaces, they say, have the ability to change depending on the character of their confines.