He put all of them in a large basket, covered inside with a faded yellow bag. One, two and three. The last ones had all turned out bad: two had been thrown straight into the basket; the last one had fallen on the floor. Today he just could not make the shape he had been ordered to make. And now here he is throwing another one.
He tensed up, sorrowful. He turns up the music and lights a cigarette. At the edges of his nails, the freshly kneaded clay mixes with that of days before, now stuck between the tissues of his hands. While he still grumbles and keeps being unfriendly, dropping flakes of ash all over the studio, he gets to work again. Nothing to do about it! The right corner does not come out as requested: “Who could ever want a vase like that? Stuff for imaginative bourgeois, this vase really sucks, this is why I do not get it… one studies for a lifetime and then has to do this stuff for clients… but what do they know? What proposal is it?”. However, he goes on like this, breaking his head trying to make this damned vase. He gets up, then sits down, then checks his mobile phone, then goes to the bathroom, then gets angry, then sits down again, then talks to himself, then finally tries again and… he makes a mistake.
At that moment, a university student enters the laboratory. They quickly greet one another and she begins to wander among the clay works displayed on the walls of the studio. While she is about to leave, she notices the vase scrap fallen on the floor.
“This shape is very interesting, how did you come up with it?”
He looks at her speechless. He does not immediately understand what she is referring to, then he walks over and sees one of his vase scraps on the floor. He must not have hit the basket before when he threw it away.
“I like it, how much is it?”
“Miss, this is a scrap. Just look in that yellow basket: they are all shapes that did not succeed. This is the model I should follow. Just take the paper, of course. Please see how this damn right side is supposed to come out! And instead nothing…”
The girl looks at the model drawn on the A4 sheet and then at the “scrap” left on the ground.
“I like this. How much does it cost?”
Exhausted, he replies: “Miss, I do not want to scam you. This vase cannot be worth anything. You saw it, didn’t you? We can call it a mistake: don’t you see how different it is from the model?”
“I like that one, exactly because it is a unique piece. If you allow me, I would like to decide the value to give to things, people or time”.
She takes the selected vase in her hand: “Sometimes it is not you who is wrong, it is just the place or the people around you who do not value you. There is that very famous story of the bottle of water. You know it, don’t you?”
He shakes his head.
“How much does a bottle of water cost at the supermarket?”
“I do not know, I think 50 cents?”
“All right. How much does it cost at the bar?”
“Well, I think one euro”.
“Exactly. How much does it cost at the airport?”
“I don’t know exactly, let me say two euros”
“Great, and how much does it cost for a super exclusive event? Yes I know you do not know. Well, I think it could cost even five euros. Well, the bottle has not changed, it is still the same, but it is the place that gives it a different value. I like this vase, even if it seems badly made, I want to give it value, I like it that way. How much do you want?”
Grandi Storielle 🖌📚 