When swallows return from the south in spring, there is something almost magical about it. They spend most of their lives in flight and only briefly intersect with human environments, for example, when building nests. Their arrival once marked the reliable onset of summer. Today, however, this balance is increasingly disturbed: nesting sites are disappearing, food sources are declining and the swallows’ return is more often absent.

This is where Eva von Redecker’s essay “Bleibefreiheit” (2023) begins. She argues that “freedom” is too often equated with freedom of movement and instead proposes a different understanding: the freedom to remain. In the context of the climate crisis, which is destroying habitats, this perspective becomes more urgent — echoed in recent protests advocating for the preservation of living environments.

The scene depicted on the dish shows a swallow descending towards a lotus motif. Air and water appear to merge, framed by a fine geometric border. Despite its poetic quality, the object originally served an everyday function: the display of visiting cards.

It was produced using the cloisonné technique, in which fine metal wires form compartments that are filled with coloured enamel and fired. The technique reached Japan in the nineteenth century, where it quickly gained popularity. During the period of Japonism, many such objects entered Europe — including this dish, created during the Meiji period, a time of profound social transformation in Japan.