Children’s pottery really deserves its own blog. Such a blog probably exists. But, truth be told, hastily-made amateur clayworks are very middleclassy and have their own special place here at Middleclassics. Example:

Here is a very ordinary art class masterpiece. Perfectly uninspired, the tedium of coil-pottery finds itself appropriately embodied in this delightful little vase. Someone brought it home from seventh grade art class, just to have it sit around like the harmless little lump of a child that made it.

Soon after its introduction to the home, it can be found tucked away on an end table or stuffed with newspaper and subsequently stuffed itself into a shoebox in a closet. Like their design, their lives are simple. However, their presence is that of peaceful relevance in most middle-class American homes.

While the typical middleclass child’s innocent foray into sculpture ultimately does little harm, there’s always been an ominous side to pottery in my household. There’s something unsettling about some of the work I brought home.

 I took a quick scan of our unfinished basement and came across two pieces that speak for themselves:

What my art teacher wanted to say: 

“The assignment was to craft an animal from clay. You chose to make a swan, a creature universally noted for its beauty. Now, I know that’s a tall bar for a twelve-year-old to set for himself, but did you really need to black the poor things eyes out? I’ve never seen pottery that wants to kill itself. Is there supposed to be some deeper narrative to this? You could at least save your creative abortion some dignity and finish painting it. F-.”  

What my art teacher actually said:

“Nice goose. B-.”

I’ll admit it’s a creepy swan. But that’s comparatively tame. I can only say it gets worse.

If you’re perceptive enough, you’ll note this is a genie’s lamp. You can tell because of its cool, mystic spiral.

Upon making this, I remember thinking, “I’m going to make something different!” In lieu of exposition, I’ve taken a video to explain just how “different” this masterpiece of pottery is.

Suddenly I don’t feel comfortable watching The Simpsons. 

Do you have any children’s pottery laying about your two-story ranch or modest duplex? Take a picture and send it to middleclassics@gmail.com, for a chance to participate in our sure-to-be-continuing series on half-assed pottery: a middleclassic.

Recently, my brother and his wife moved into their first home, an acceptably middleclassy one-story ranch. The previous owners left behind a lot of knick-knacks.

They also forgot to take down these drapes:

“How perfect!” I thought upon marveling this cottony K-Mart home good. There appears to be blood stains on that pilgrim-clown. And a pink-white sorrel psoriasis warhorse? How poetic!

While this specific pattern might not be a popular or even well-known icon of the average middleclass home, it’s very true that floral print (the core of what makes these drapes blend in so well) is wildly popular amongst middle-income American home owners. If you’ve ever spent any time by your kitchen window, or the kitchen window of your most middling friend, you’d surely recognize such quaintly billowing bastardizations of nature. Whether manifested around humble-ass windows or splayed upon an ill-fitting muumuu meant for lazily covering your own stitched-up beef curtains, floral print has quietly permeated all things middle class and cotton.

Like that maybe-crackpipe hovering by the clowns head, drapes contain the power to both soothe and confuse if meditated upon too long, so I’ll break any spells and send you readers on a mission: go out with opened eyes and witness the powerful infiltration of floral print drapes in our everyday lives. You may be surprised; within a simple search of your own warm-as-a-crackpipe home, you too may find your own humble-ass drapes: a middleclassic. 

- Alex

Welcome to Middleclassics, or “Look at That Middle Class Bullshit”.

We here at the blog have tasked ourselves with finding the most wonderfully mundane objects, commodities, and phenomena of middle-class American life. We pride ourselves on discovering perfectly middle-of-the-road items and shall present them in their illustriously boring glory for you, our audience of motley demographics. 

As for the contents of this blog, our one rule (so far) is this: the plainer, the better. Though not quite People of Walmart, yet equidistant from Stuff White People Like, Middleclassics will guide you on a rich journey through the fabulously forgettable realm of middle America.

We are the mayonnaise in a white-bread-and-mayonnaise sandwich, if you will. So grab yourself a glass of lukewarm milk and get mucousy, cause we’re about to get super ordinary up in here.

Thanks for the visit, and remember to follow for regular updates!

- Alex