Tell me you’re not strangely pleased by these pint-size paintings. London artist Kitty Valentine describes it as “politely defacing old photographs.” Indeed, the work is delicate and loving. But I’m guessing the original subjects would be confused and…dismayed? I
Still, they are remarkable: simple, humorous, haunting. They’re for sale in her etsy shop, foxglovepearly, for about $60 apiece.
My boyfriend’s parents have an elusive piece of property in Manhattan: a basement. In that basement they store, quite neatly, items from their past that are too good to give up but that meet no immediate need. We, as the young poor folks, have done pretty well by this arrangement.
Recently, after a joyous Mexican dinner nearby, we made a trip to the basement because during dinner–somehow–we learned of an unusual object that they happened to be storing there. I, being too curious for my own good, had to see it. And they, being the overly generous parents they always are, made a gift of it. It’s now on display in our living room.
step 1
That object is a bull castrator–or “emasculator,” I just learned online. (Please tell me who else around here has done a search for “bull castration tool.”) It’s Italian-made and probably saw its last bull testicles around mid-century, I’m guessing. It belonged to a relative, an old bachelor with a mane of white hair who lived alone on a Washington mountain side. There he ran a farm and an orchard and had a barn-full of fantastic farm implements. How I’d love to visit that barn.
step 2
step 3: the clinch
From what I can tell it’s in excellent working condition; the hinges glide effortlessly and that final squeeze of the handles into the lockdown kiss-of-death grip is silent and undeniable.
Obviously, for us, this item does fill an immediate need: for what other weapon wielded by a vicious young woman could strike more fear in the hearts of any man?
Last week I came across this estate sale stunner on ebay. The seller described it as “Antique Brass Egyptian Revival Queen Modernist Necklace.” A mouthful as well as an eyeful. Bidding started at $9.99. I didn’t bid because I convinced myself I didn’t need this, though I silently and vehemently disagreed with myself.
But I kept watch on it. Last night, after 10 bids, it sold for $105.50. Apparently these folks thought it was worth the cash (all of the bidders had wins/sells under their belts in the hundreds and thousands, so that tells me they know a thing or two. I am at a measly 63). I wager the winner will mark it up mercilessly and resell it in a West Village antique shop. So be it.
What’s better, the money supposedly goes to orphans in Uganda. Nice!
Note: If you have an iphone you need to get the free ebay app. Unless you want to continue leading a healthy, well-balanced life–then I recommend against it.
This week, as the cold, the wind, and the noise continue to reign in this city of granite, I’ve psychologically transplanted myself into a world of fresh breath, mysterious woods, cottons and leathers, deep hues, and adventures. I need a farmhouse and braids in my hair.
For Chrissakes, I nearly bought a red and tan embroidered muu muu at the Salvation Army this afternoon.
devil's path, sugarloaf mountain (sectionhiker.com)
Pieter Brueghel, "Netherlandish Proverbs"; also Fleet Foxes cover art
perfectly worn j.crew boots on ebay
overgrown temple in Cambodia
from osbethsview.wordpress.com
Audubon's "Great Egret"
from refinery29.com
Don’t you think? I especially like her shopping habits and her hair. Read about her here.
Last weekend was spent at two very different antiques shopping events that ended in the very same way: disappointment and disillusion.
Saturday was Brooklyn Flea, which during the winter is being held at the old Williamsburgh Savings Bank in downtown Brooklyn. Really I wanted to check out the new space. I’m glad I didn’t set my sights any higher, since the architecture was the only thing worth a damn.
mezzanine windows. hard to believe, but this photo is not blurry.
The problems:
1. Overcrowding. Nightmarish proportions.
2. Overcurating. I’m slowly learning that for New York standards this thing is considered a “flea market.” But there are no deals, no piles to sift through, no buried treasures. Every item has its place on the (tablecloth covered!) table. This means the seller will try to swindle you on every piece of vintage Levi’s plaid, every amateur oil portrait.
3. Overhipstering. No flea market’s wares should be composed of more than 25% polyester dresses, nor should there be screenprinted baby onesies or homemade granola.
But I don’t want to be a nasty old naysayer. Some booths had fun vignettes. I’m sure that if I’d been looking for miniature boxing gloves I would’ve been over the moon.
On gloomy Sunday we travelled all the way to the Hudson–12th Avenue and 55th–for the annual Americana Expo. I was looking forward to seeing some real antiques and hoping that maybe–since you had to pay $15 to get in–there might be some deals? So, so naive.
the view
To give you some context, across the street was this place:
I appreciate the Greek details.
Don’t get me wrong: this show had some fascinating stuff.
clam rake
book press
matchbooks, $15 each
But the problems:
1. Overpricing. One seller had a British sterling silver serving fork for $225.
2. Overprotecting. I didn’t attempt that many photos. When I did, though, no one asked me not to. But one guy cleared his throat loudly, over and over, and then came and stood in front of me to block my view, though he never said a word. Can someone explain to me the issue here? I didn’t use a flash, so I don’t think I was damaging the wares. I can’t recreate the objects and try to pass them off as originals. Maybe other people do that. So what is it? Shouldn’t they be flattered? And I’m under 50! Doubly flattering! Maybe I still qualify as an oily-fingered urchin.
Verdict: Surprises and deals–the twin engines of true treasure hunting–are obsolete in this town. And don’t think it gets any better upstate or in Connecticut or Pennsylvania. Or on ebay.
A friend did tell me about this place, though. I think that’s my next stop. Have you got any other ideas?
Through flea markets and auctions my parents have been slowly amassing a collection of French and British sterling cutlery that spans the 19th century (the oldest dates to about 1802). From their remarkable size and weight, these utensils seem regal–and may well have been. They’re gigantic, the spoon bowls like swimming pools, the deep fork tines like pitchforks, making today’s mass-market cutlery look woefully inadequate, too weak and flimsy to pick up a pea.
French fork and spoon with fiddle thread handle
Each piece has a series of hallmarks somewhere on the handle. I was recently introduced to the complex and tiny world of hallmarks and maker’s marks, which craftsmen stamp on each piece they create in order to guarantee its authenticity, date it, and tell the world it’s made by him alone. There are scores of books out there that help you decipher these letters and images, and it’s frankly daunting.
For example, particular years are indicated by a letter. But it’s not just a letter…if you want to get it right, you need to look at whether it’s uppercase of lowercase, serif or sans-serif, as well as the shape of the box around the letter (is it a shield? a square? an oval?).
The most common marks indicating sterling silver are a lion passant (one foot raised, like this), a rooster, or the head of the goddess Minerva. Why? I have no idea yet.
The British, unsurprisingly, were much more meticulous about this kind of record keeping than the French, so British cutlery will have around 4-5 marks, the French will have 2-3.
I’d known for a long while that these marks were there but had never bothered to look very closely. When I did I felt instantly and eerily immersed in some centuries-old secret puzzle language that might tell me more than meets the eye (“National Treasure III”???). But even if it doesn’t, trying to place an object in history is pretty exhilarating.
These are the marks on one of the family’s French spoons:
The rooster mark is in the center. We dated this to about 1802.
To see these teeny things, which are smaller than peppercorns, you use a loupe. When I use it I feel like some old scrooge inspecting my gold. I love it.
Then you try to find them in a guide like this one:
Although I can’t afford sterling, I decided I at least need larger and more serious utensils in my life because IKEA just isn’t cutting it. On my recent trip to New Orleans, at an antiques shop in the French Quarter–the kind that uses the word “antiques” broadly but truly is a treasure trove–I encountered this table:
And in that heap I found sets of spoons and knives made by 1847 Rogers Brothers, a 19th-century American manufacturer of silver plate goods. I got 11 pieces for $27:
While they’re nowhere near as valuable as their sterling counterparts, they’re far from being junk and still have that heft and substantial size of the real stuff, making me feel like an adult eating a very important bowl of lentil soup.
Vintage globes hold an irresistible allure. The cracks, faded colors, and erroneous labeling all contribute to their significance as markers of our scientific progress.
I’m not sure how I originally came into possession of this sweet and simple 8″ specimen, but I rediscovered it on my recent trip home to New Orleans, dusted it off, wrapped it in tissue, and carted it back to Brooklyn. I can’t find a date but it’s likely from the 1960s and was made in the USA by the George F. Cram Co., Indianapolis, IN. Antarctica has all but crumbled off, but who goes there anyway?
There are lots available on ebay, of course, or you may wish to get yourself a reproduction of the earliest known globe, the 1492 Erdapfel (“earth apple”) by Martin Behaim, the original of which still exists, by the way. It’s beautiful but, of course, it’ll be far from accurate: it was made just before Columbus discovered America. Where we should be is the vast and uncharted Atlantic.
Erdapfel
Postscript: I was just asked how Behaim knew the earth was round in 1492, not flat. Did you know that the idea that people once believed the earth was flat is a MYTH created by Washington Irving? I know, I feel betrayed too.
My Great Great Aunt Louise held on to things. She never married, and my father, who knew her as a child, usually refers to her as an “old crone” who liked to drink whisky and insult les americains (as opposed to les creoles, the American-born French population of New Orleans that she belonged to) while she ran the family’s French Quarter properties, and who once talked a judge out of sending her to the mad house (a niece, who was after the family money, claimed Louise was too feeble to manage it. As punishment, that niece was cut out entirely). On a completely superfluous note, I also learned that Louise called termites “woims” [worms], which is appropriate for just how disgusting those creatures are.
But she wasn’t all bile and sass; she was a sentimental girl. She held onto the ephemera of daily life, at least from the earlier years, which we keep in an old metal box. Louise died in 1963 and my grandfather, a 1960s “modern” man who saw little value in the past, wanted to toss it all out. My father, who was twelve at the time, felt otherwise (thank you!) and became their guardian. From what I can see, most of what we have dates from the 1900s and ’10s, though elsewhere we have family letters dating as far back as the 1870s.
Louise is on the upper left. My great grandfather, Hippolyte, is the man with the crazy eye.
Among the most striking are these communion cards, delicate as dried petals, which I’m assuming were announcements sent out to family and friends. I can’t find anything else like them online, so I plan to make a trip to the library soon (if you know something, please share it!). Meanwhile, they’re too beautiful and strange not to show right away.
The largest girl is missing an arm. Each figure is holding a tall white communion candle.
Some other bits:
"Costume de rigueur": admittance cards to the Rex ball, one of the oldest Mardi Gras krewes, established in 1872.
1904-05 music catalog. D.H. Holmes was a department store in downtown New Orleans that finally shut its doors in the 1989.
Front: "Dad, very Dad! Hip." From Hippolyte to his sister Louise, 1906.
Back: from New Orleans to Biloxi, MS, where Louise was visiting.
Yes, that's real fur.
This could go on for days. 100 years later, I’m a sentimental girl too.
I came across an October 2008 copy of Martha Stewart Living at my parents’ house over the holiday and tore out this article, which features a beautiful Jackson Heights, Queens, two-bedroom apartment owned by a couple who works in contemporary design but also collects antiques. The botanical prints on page 1 are reason enough to keep these pages on file, but I took the article with me because it closes with a quote that gets to the heart of why I write this blog.
Right there: “Collecting hasn’t been so much about rarity or provenance….It’s about a sense of mystery and memory. It’s amazing to think about how all of these objects have moved through the world.”
Yes! Objects tell stories, and each one is worth the time required to tell it. In 2010, let’s keep searching them out.
