Paper Fragments of Time and Place

One of my hobbies is antique collecting, but I often gravitate toward collecting pretty specific things. One of those collections, which continues to grow and grow, is that of paper ephemera from times past. Specifically of interest to me are pieces that hold handwriting; human evidence of the daily, the banal, and the easily forgotten. When a lot of people talk about really being into antiques, they often talk about the really rare things, items that are historically important, or fetch a high price or are very sought after. Those are almost at the exact opposite side of the spectrum from what I collect. I very often am drawn toward household items; things of little monetary value, but objects that were touched, written in, read, and engaged in day-to-day life.

Recently I acquired a "Pocket Diary", which was a promotional booklet from a Washington D.C. Patent Attorney's office, that once belonged to a Fred Coleman, who at the time of writing (1907), lived on South Freedom Street in Alliance, Ohio.  I have no idea how old Fred was when he started this daily journal. He was obviously a boy, and as the first page of writing states, he was 3'6" tall and weighed 70 lbs.

He kept up with daily entries pretty well until about April, when he stopped writing. At the beginning, we get some facts and figures about him, and for four months we can read an extremely abbreviated collection of moments from his life.

Fred Coleman's Pocket Diary.

January 1: Oats horse dropped dead. Looks like rain.
January 2: Homer came over in the forenoon. A horse got stuck in the mud.
January 3: I got a calendar with a sailor boy on it.
January 4: It snowed a little. We went down to grandmas.
January 5: It is a fine day.
January 6: A cat came to our house this morning.
January 7: I average 88 on my report card. I started to school after a two weeks vacation.
January 8: I went over to Homer's.
January 9: I went down town after a calendar.

...and so on.  In the four months that are documented, we see that someone in Fred's circle/family died and had a funeral, he played with his sled, his household got another telephone with a party line, he saw a picture show, hopped bobs, ice skated, the groundhog saw its shadow that year, his dad caught a wild rabbit and they ate it, flew a kite, and earned $0.82 in the month of January.

I did some cursory Googling but couldn't find much information about Fred. The address he lived at doesn't seem to exist anymore in Alliance, and I have no way of knowing how long he lived there. The thing is, Fred - who was maybe 7 or 8 years old here - is no longer living. He'd be about 115 years old now.  To me, to have this little glimpse into his life, is just so interesting. Even if he were still living - would he remember all of this? Maybe, maybe not. Artifacts like this are just little scraps of a whole life. How many of your scraps would you ever remember? These things were never archival, never protected, never destined for an art museum or the Library of Congress. They're just dingy, water-damaged, bits and pieces of life.

Dr. Pierce's Memorandum Book (with pharmaceutical advice) from 1933, Mrs. Winslow's Domestic Receipt Book from 1874.

I also enjoy almanacs and health-related promotional items, because they almost always have cringe-inducing remedies and suggestions in them. I often pine for simpler times, but I am all-in when it comes to advancements in medicine, technology, and knowledge. Simpler is not always better, especially when it comes to white pills of unknown origin, promising to be a  "Golden Liver-Curing Miracle".

In Mrs. Winslow's Domestic Receipt book, among the recipes for Liquid Glue, Apple Cheesecake, Wash Balls, and directions for how to make hens lay more eggs, are advertisements for Mrs. Winslow's Soothing Syrup, an "Old nurse for children, which regulates the bowels, soothes teething pain, and promotes sleep".  It was probably really effective, since it contained 65mg of Morphine Sulfate per fluid ounce.  I imagine quite a few adults found it "effective" as well.

Dr. Pierce's Golden Medical Discovery will keep young ladies looking exquisite!

I love coming across old recipes. Some day I am definitely going to try making Aunt Jenny's fried pies, because they sound so good! This recipe, along with recipes for cracker pie and oatmeal cookies, were found in a badly decomposed composition book that once belonged to a Mrs. Adolph Pasternak from Brecksville Ohio. There are also recipes for coconut layer cake, orange nut bread, and caramel fudge. I should make it a goal to try making all of them!

I suppose this little obsession of mine is pretty voyeuristic at its core, but truly, I think I just like to see bits and pieces of people's lives. Not famous people or important historical figures, but everyday people, writing about everyday things. And knowing that in a small way, though they may have moved on from this mortal world, something of theirs is living on. I often wonder if any of my work will be found in some dusty antique store someday, dirty and falling apart, waiting for someone like me to scoop it up and wonder about its origins.  I like to think so.

Week in Photos: March 1, 2014

Secret project (so far) drawings.

A bit of a lean week, this week, in terms of work. I periodically go through these laggy intervals, where I think I start thinking too much, get overwhelmed by anxiety over upcoming responsibilities, and just get a little emotionally crippled and I can't force myself to do much. I've done this ever since I was a kid, and you'd think that after 33 years of living, I would have figured out how to handle it, but the remedy still eludes me. One of these days I will be able to slay this particular demon, but as of right now, I just sort of have to deal with it until I make it out the other side.

One big project that I'm working on right now (pic above) is SO cool, but I can't really say much about it yet, as it's a large project and just now beginning the germination stages. I will say a few things about it though: 1) It involves another amazing artist, 2) it's going to be a large-scale production of some small-scale things, and 3) it will be widely available, and affordable for all of my collectors. Excited!

I am absolutely the type of person to paint my nails up fancy to make myself feel better on gloomy days. Into the annals of internet manicure-photography, I submit these: Rainbow Glitter Galaxy Space Nails.

Found a great old toy xylophone. At this point it's more "objet d'art" than "xylophone", as the tines don't really ring out as much as make a slightly tonal metallic clunk when struck, but so what, look at that patina!

I ordered a sample of a perfume called "Smoke", by a woman who has the utterly genius business-model of starting an entire business to sell a few incarnations of the exact same product. I'm picky about perfume (don't get me started) so I'm always keen on trying something new and different. My initial review is that it is absolutely lovely, if a little one-dimensional. The strange things is, when I opened the envelope it came in, the scent that greeted me was exquisite - some earthy and oddly familiar blend of vetiver, patchouli, a hint of warm citrus and some gentle note of red spice, like clove or carnation. But upon applying the perfume, all that fell away immediately and I was left with just the scent of vetiver essential oil. Don't get me wrong, I LOVE vetiver, it is amazingly complex and can be worn as a perfume alone, but the difference between the initial whiff and what was left on my skin was pretty striking. I am wondering if I am getting prematurely anosmic to one or more of the other notes in the perfume, or if either my skin or my nose is not picking the scent up as the blender intended. I plan on trying a few different ways of using and wearing it. All in all, even if it is a little flat to my nose, it's still a really lovely scent and an easy "introduction" to wearing vetiver! The sample came beautifully packaged. If you're curious, and you love natural, earthy scents, by all means give Smoke a try, it's a very nice scent.

Secret Society Sale: Introduction

Now that I've gotten past a few pressing projects, I'm ready to delve into my next one - a project that I've been mentally working through for months now, and am finally able to tell you all about it, I'm really excited!

Back at the end of last year, I purchased four antique ceremonial robes that came from an old Oddfellows lodge somewhere in West Virginia.

My best guess is that they're from somewhere in the vicinity of 1910-1925 era. Definitely very old, and they've seen some use and some tribulations, as they're not in great shape. My plan is to make a small body of work using these four robes to comprise as much of the art as possible - all of the parts of these robes can be used to make dolls - the cotton fabric, the lining, the buttons, embroidery, tassels, tags, and even the reverse sides all have merit and potential.

Normally I would hesitate to take scissors to such artifacts, but like I said before - these are not in good shape. The photos make them look better than they actually are; there's a lot of fading, staining, moth-holes, ripped seams, broken buttons, water damage, and other issues. I want to take these objects that would otherwise just languish in a dark closet somewhere, and turn them into cherished objects, and breathe new life into them by transforming them into Dust Bunnies!

I've long been fascinated by the mystery and lore of "Secret Societies". Not necessarily the organizations themselves, but their reputations for mystery and intrigue; secret symbols and rituals, bizarre initiation ceremonies and complicated membership rites. Not the reality of secret organizations, but the fantastical rumors and stories built around them, by the uninitiated. I've also been drawn in by their keen sense of design and symbolism - antique fraternal ephemera is just a pure aesthetic treat.

So, I'm about to start building this body of work, which I will sell this spring as as online event called the "Secret Society Sale". I'm looking forward to forcing myself to be creative, to research and learn, and to really get to know these garments as I work with them. Who knows how long they were used in Oddfellows meetings? How many people wore them? I love a good antique mystery.

Just as a note, historical or factual reality is not my goal with this project - I know the history and rational existence of the Oddfellows and other charitable fraternal organizations, which are still alive and well. It's an exercise in suspending our belief, and asking "what if?". What if there were invisible, mystical hands pulling the strings of important events? What if every symbol we see actually has a deeper, hidden meaning? What if that plain-looking person walking toward you on the street is actually the highest post in an elaborate and powerful organization!?

My bunnies are obviously not smart enough to actually be a part of any organized membership, secret or otherwise, but they'll be doing their best to festoon themselves with (what they deem as) appropriate attire, don (what they think are) meaningful symbols, and (attempt to) show you just how organized and powerful they can (or can't) be.

More info soon!

The Beauty of Ugly (again)

I actually blogged this same entry a few years ago, but I recently stumbled across it again, and realized that I still feel *exactly* the same way. So I thought it would be fine to just post it again....

The Beauty of Ugly

I was thinking this morning on the way to work about why exactly I am drawn to things that aren't just less than perfect, but have obvious defects, wear and tear, or just "wrongness" about them. I came up with three conclusions, all of which play a part in my attraction to, and need to acquire and surround myself with peeling paint, rusting hinges, wobbly joints, and frayed edges. 

The simple answer would be simply because I like the aesthetic; old worn objects tend to have a beautiful, unified color statement when placed together, and the patina of age and time has a tendency to soften edges, mute colors, and smooth out the stark corners of newness. Being made of more natural materials as well, the textures and colors just resonate with me; there is such visual poetry in a beat-up wooden bowl, a sun-bleached piece of moss green silk velvet, or the slightly dusty, peeling face of an ancient taxidermied creature. But I think there is more to it than that. 


My first conclusion is the feeling of maternal protection many of these things give me. I always thought that if/when I choose a pet from a shelter, I would find the most ragged, three-legged, one-eyed cat they could throw at me, because he would probably be considered unadoptable, but I would love him in his ugliness. Many inanimate objects give me the same feeling, the feeling that they are vulnerable, and need to be loved and protected. Old plush toys with their vacant glass eyes and ripping, handsewn seams are very much like the Velveteen Rabbit - loved into oblivion. Objects can fall into ruin by being loved too much just as they can by being abandoned. Perhaps it's that exact dichotomy that draws me.

Another, probably obvious, idea is the constant search for fellow misfits. So many people feel like they can't relate to "most" other people, or that they are somehow different in a way that is seen by the general populous as "broken" or "strange" or "ill-fitting". I collect things that are misfits. They are old, they have very few, if any, matches in the world, and the very nature of them being produced one at a time means they are not one of a million, and maybe not even one of a thousand. And completely handmade treasures, like home-made toys, were made in a production run of one. Time has affected them all in a unique way, and even if they began life looking identical to their counterparts, they will look vastly different now.

The allure of ugly is very strong. I remember always being upset at the end of Beauty and the Beast stories, when the beast turns into the Prince - I always liked him better as the Beast. All that was interesting about him, all that was a little bit dangerous, a little bit primal, a little bit frightening, was traded in for a clean-shaven square jaw and doofus-y pageboy haircut. So boring. I love the quirks in other people; freckled skin, crooked teeth, cowlicks, shadows of life still marked on them, and in the case of my husband, a scarred upper lip and one pupil that always dilates twice as much as the other one.

I think I'll always be attracted to what is slightly "off", a bit foreign, a bit uncomfortable, a bit dirty. It's not just an aesthetic appeal, it's something that touches me deeply and resonates within me. Perhaps my modern life is just too sterile and branded, I don't know. But I do know that I will continue to create new things that seem like old things, in my neverending quest to fill my world with the comfort of things loved literally to pieces.