The Beginning of Looking Closely

There is a moment that changes how you collect.

It happens quietly.

You turn an object over.

Not to check its price.
Not to confirm a brand.
But to see what has been left beneath it.

A mark.
A number.
A faint impression pressed into clay decades ago.

For many people, objects are surface things. They are chosen for color, for fit, for decoration. And there is nothing wrong with that.

But over time, I found myself less interested in how something looked on a shelf and more interested in where it began.

Who shaped it?
Which workshop?
Which kiln?
Which country?

And how did it travel before arriving at a flea market table in Belgium?

That shift — from acquiring to understanding — is what shaped I Heart Objects.

This Journal exists as a place to slow down.

To examine porcelain marks.
To trace makers and regions.
To explore European ceramics and vintage objects beyond their surface appeal.

Some entries will be practical — identifying Delftware, reading backstamps, understanding glaze differences.

Others will be quieter — reflections on why certain objects feel worth keeping.

Collecting well is not about owning more.

It is about noticing more.

About asking better questions of the things we hold.

This first entry is not about a specific object.

It is about the practice of looking closely.

The rest will follow.