Calming Tea Meditation with a Still Life

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Announcer: This is a Getty podcast.

[Rising, meditative music]

Lilit Sadoyan: Today we’re discovering a charming still life painting of a tea set from the 1780s by Jean-Étienne Liotard.

[Theme music begins]

Welcome to Our Museum Mindfulness Meditation podcast, or OMMM. Part art history and part meditation, we use works of art from the Getty collection as inspiration for mindfulness and deep reflection.

Hi, I’m Lilit Sadoyan. I’m a longtime meditation practitioner and museum educator at Getty. Thanks for joining me as we bring mindfulness out of the gallery and into our daily lives.

Today, we’re taking a moment to pause with mindful tea drinking as we explore an 18th-century still life painting of a tea set by Jean-Étienne Liotard. This episode begins with a breathing exercise to help relax your body and mind. We’ll then give a bit of history and context for the still life, and we’ll close with a tea meditation. This series is also available as an audio podcast. If you’d like to step away from a screen for a few minutes, listen on your favorite podcast app. Now, if you’re ready, let’s jump in.

[Gong chimes]

[Slow, meditative music begins]

Go ahead and find a comfortable meditation posture, whatever that means for you today. Maybe you’re sitting, lying down, something that allows you to feel relaxed yet alert. And let’s start by taking a few deep breaths together.

In through the nose. [inhales]

Out through the mouth. [exhales]

Deep breath in. [inhales]

Deep breath out. [exhales]

One more inhale.

And exhale.

And just let your breathing resume its natural rhythm as we explore today’s work of art.

[Bells chime]

Imagine that a small tea party has just concluded. All the porcelain ware and utensils are collected on a tray. On the left stands a tall, round teapot. Moving clockwise from there, and just inside the inner edge of the tray, are a lidded vase, perhaps for extra tea leaves; two tea cups in deep saucers, one half full with a spoon, the other turned over with its spoon precariously resting on the edge of the saucer; a large bowl holding a third teacup, saucer, spoon, and presumably cold tea or used tea leaves hidden from view; a bowl of sugar cubes with an elaborate pair of silver tongs positioned across the top; a creamer, and three more cups and saucers with spoons, the first of which is tipped on its side, and the second two of which are completely upside down. At the center of the tray is a dish of buttered bread. One piece sits on the rim, half eaten, and looking closely, we find a couple more bread crusts discarded about, one between the teacups closest to the viewer, and another even closer, curiously outside of the tray along the bottom edge of the canvas.

For all the disarray seen in this painting, the composition is also meticulously arranged. Organized chaos. The canvas is divided horizontally into two nearly identical halves, with a simple dark olive green background for the wall, and deep reddish brown for the surface upon which the tray and tea set rest. The sparseness of the background draws our focus to the textures and arrangement of the objects. Each and every item in this painting has its place and purpose for inclusion. Everything, save a small bread crust, fits within the tray. But Liotard exposes different angles of the cups, saucers, and accessories, which gives us a fuller view of the objects featured. Even the spoons rest at odd, but intentional angles. They all appear before us as if on a stage, like a spotlight is shone upon them.

Liotard’s attention to rendering different surfaces is likewise striking. The objects reflect the light in their unique ways. The gleam of the highly polished silver spoons, the light amber of the half consumed tea and slightly refracted spoon inside it, the opaque and unevenly spread butter on the bread, the rounded porcelain ware, and even the faux lacquer tray, whose floral pattern can just barely be discerned in the space between the porcelain, but also whose polished dark surface subtly reflects the porcelain objects as well.

I often consider both the compositional and personal perspectives of this painting. We’re looking down upon it from a high viewpoint, but whose perspective do we, the viewer, embody? The presumably elite members of the upper class who have just enjoyed the tea and bread? Or the servant who’s left to clean it up? The highly illusionistic style in which Liotard painted this work makes the painting feel so three-dimensional that one can almost mistakenly pick up the painting instead of the tray. What Liotard captured here is the aftermath of human presence, a kind of intimate sociability which is implied and not shown. It’s an image of some time that has already passed.

Similarly, it’s almost impossible for me to see each piece of porcelain or cube of sugar in this painting without thinking of the human networks of global trade that made it happen. The tea set is composed of luxurious Chinese porcelain. It was the type of porcelain created for export and decorated in the Mandarin or image pattern, which depicted courtly figures in Mandarin dress and leisurely scenes of daily life. While the tea set was imported from China, the tray has been identified as painted tin or tôle, which was an inexpensive version made to imitate Asian lacquer. In 18th-century Europe, tea drinking and Chinese porcelain were at the height of fashion. The tea itself was also imported from China. Tea first arrived in France via Dutch traders in the 17th century, but because of its high price, it was a status symbol almost exclusively used by the aristocracy. By the following century when this painting was made, tea drinking was all the rage among the middle and upper classes.

[Slight music plays]

Born in Geneva in 1702, Jean-Étienne Liotard first trained as a miniature painter. He later moved to Paris, but was rejected by the Académie Royale, so he spent a large part of his life traveling throughout Europe and the Mediterranean painting portraits of the upper class. He became best known for his strikingly realistic renderings in pastel. While he lived to be 86, Liotard only began painting tea and coffee sets in the last couple decades of his life. Today, only five of these kinds of paintings are known.

One of the most fascinating aspects of this present painting is that Liotard was not only a painter of paintings, but a painter of porcelain too. He sometimes painted on porcelain which he made himself. And although the porcelain represented here is from China, we have a meta moment in this painting. A painting of porcelain that is itself painted, with the added layer of Liotard’s artistic understanding and embodied knowledge as an enameler himself. The painted objects also seem incredibly tactile, like they’re asking to be touched. The handleless cups need to be picked up and held in the palm of the hand, the tiny spoons and tongs delicately positioned between fingertips. Even the width of the tray appears proportioned to the comfortable reach of outstretched arms.

So let’s accept this invitation and practice the same kind of awareness and presence with a tea meditation. A tea meditation offers numerous benefits for the mind, body, and spirit. It combines the principles of mindfulness with the calming ritual of tea preparation and drinking.

Take a moment now to prepare for our tea meditation. You can press the pause button while you boil water, prepare your cup, and select your tea. And after you pour the hot water into your cup and brew your tea, find a space where you can sit comfortably and without interruption, and come back to this meditation.

[Gong chimes and slow, meditative music begins]

Take a moment now to set yourself up for restfulness. Find ease in your body and establish a sense of comfort, whatever you need today. We’ll begin by taking a few deep breaths together. If you feel comfortable, I invite you to close your eyes. Use this time to go inward.

Let’s start by taking a deep breath in through the nose. [inhales]

Out through the mouth. [exhales]

Deep breath in. [inhales]

Deep breath out. [exhales]

Inhale.

Exhale.

Now just let your breathing resume its natural rhythm. There’s no need to force or extend the breath. Let your body do what it does very naturally.

And gently bring your attention to the ways that the breath moves in and out of your body. Notice the sensation around your nostril. The temperature and the texture every time you breathe in and breathe out. Notice the rise and fall of your chest. And if your breath is deeper than that, again, no need to force it. Soft belly. Feel your abdomen swell and subside.

[Silence]

If your mind starts to wander, that’s okay. It’s completely natural. But when you notice that your mind has drifted off, gently bring your attention back to your breath.

[Silence]

Notice the pace.

Notice the sensation.

Notice yourself breathing here and now.

Take a moment now to set an intention. There’s nothing to achieve, just something to gently orient your attention towards. It may be an intention to slow down.

To pause.

To be present.

To practice gratitude.

Whatever is coming up for you today.

And if your eyes are closed, I invite you to gently open them.

Bring your full attention to each movement. First, notice any impulse you may feel to reach for the cup right away. Just observe that urge. Practicing non-doing may feel unfamiliar. Just let it be without judgment. Notice the feeling of patience. Let your hands just rest where they are.

Look closely at the tea in your cup. Its hue, its clarity. The way light reflects off of its surface. Watch the steam rise and dissolve into the air in delicate strands.

Notice the cup itself. Look at it with a sense of wonder and be aware of any thoughts or memories that arise when you look at this object. See if there’s a sense of care, respect, or appreciation for this important object that shares the space with you.

Now reach for the cup and pick it up. Let your grip be gentle. Sense the warmth spreading through your palms and fingers as you hold it. Let the feeling of appreciation settle in.

Slowly bring the cup closer and pause. Take in the aromas. [inhales] Notice the temperature on your inhale as you smell your tea. Notice if the fragrance brings up any memories here. Acknowledge them and gently guide your attention back to your breath

When you’re ready, take your first sip.

Notice how the tea feels in your mouth. Feel its texture, its heat, the way it moves down your throat when you drink it. See if you can even feel it move down your chest. Notice what lingers, and stay with the experience sip after sip.

Just be fully present in the here and now. Just this sip, just this breath. Allow things to unfold at their own pace. Know that in this stillness, there’s nowhere else to be, nothing else to do but to be here now.

See what you can quietly let go of here. Let your body be at ease now. Let the breath be effortless. See if you can be fully present with one thing at a time. Give it your complete and undivided attention.

Just this tea, just this moment.

And as you sit here, you may notice that the world feels slightly quieter, that it has slowed down because you have. Taking this time to just be present with your tea, a simple exchange between you and the tea. As you enjoy your tea, continue to hold the sense of quiet presence. Notice what has shifted, however subtle or obvious. Maybe it’s the slowing down of thoughts, softening in the body, or simply having arrived in the here and now.

And see if there’s a sense of gratitude here, anything you appreciate, even in a small way. Gratitude can begin with something as simple as this tea, the warmth in your hands, the time you’ve given yourself to pause. You have carved out the time for yourself here.

Let’s return to our breath and close our practice by taking a full deep breath together.

Inhale.

Sigh it out. [exhales]

Thank you so much for joining me.

[Meditative music slowly fades out]