The Box With A Million Stories

One of the more unusual things I have recently inherited is a metal box of drawers that sat on my grandpa's and great grandpa's workbench.

It is a small three drawer piece, designed to be filled with all sorts of bits and bobs and widgets a geegaws that a handyman might use throughout his handy around the house kind of life.  It is spattered in paint remnants of scores of painting projects.

At first I was going to try to sell it in the shop or take it to the antique market and let people pick through it for whatever they wanted like crows on carrion.

And then I started thinking.  This piece of family history is more representative of family history than a pair of cufflinks or an old draft card.

This box of "stuff" represents a thousand little pieces of life, that were kept together "in case I might need one of these" some day.
Washers, latches, drill bits, brass plomb bob, hooks, screws, nuts and bolts, small corks, more screws, more widgets and more thingie-ma-bobs than I know what they were used for.  Even some of those "Real Brass Do-Dads That Fit Into The Metal Strip That Allow You  To Position A Shelf At Different Heights" (and never have the right number or the right size.) All of these bits started out someplace--as none of the items are new--Pieces from several houses over several generations.

It actually reminds me--on a small scale--of the drawers and drawers of hardware that real hardware stores used to have.  The kind of drawers that the Helpful Hardware Man (sorry ladies, there were no employed hardware ladies then) could go to and in an instant pull out what you needed even if you did not know what to call it.

My Drawers of Treasure are now displayed on a table in our living room.  Please don't hesitate to ask me if you need one of those clampie things that is really called a rolled barrel butt hinge--I have a couple of spares.

To Pluto and Back

We just got back from selling at Elkhorn Antique Market in Elkhorn Wisconsin.  Great weather and huge crowd makes Lady Antique Dealer a happy gal.

Elkhorn market takes place in May, June, August and September each year for the last 30-some and is owned and operated by wife and husband team extraordinaire Nona and Skip.  Elkhorn is clean, well laid out and organized to benefit the attender and the dealer alike.  We think we have been selling there for more than 10 years.  Great crowd, easy set up, Wisconsin friendly.

I say this with a smile on my face and fondness in my heart--we have been to planet Pluto and back--and that is the beauty of Elkhorn.

Fellow dealers are pleasant and happy small talk abounds.  The cares of the country and world are left at home--and topics usually include what good  (or bad) shows have you done recently, what are millennials buying these days (or not buying more like) and will the crowd be as strong as last month.

After set up--which for us involves setting up lights and hanging paintings- and advance dealer sales--we head off to Moy's in Elkhorn for chinese food.  But not before a stop in their bar for a drink made by one of two women who have been bartending for more than 25 years.  People in the know are aware you order one entree to split at Moy's. After all--this is Wisconsin Restaurant Portion Land dontcha know.

We used to stay overnight locally--but we now travel further out.  Elkhorn motels inflate their prices on flea market weekend--and Lady Antique Dealer gets nuts when she has to overpay for mediocre.

This Elkhorn, the weather was spectacular and the crowd was huge. The true definition of diversity was developed at this market.  The visual and lifestyle variety of people is worth the price of the modest $5 admission.  Just Off Their Boat Lake Geneva Types  attend as well and Young Families Pulling Junior in the Wagon Eating Popcorn at 8 am Types.  To illustrate--notably striking were the two young women dressed identically in black, one with dyed lime green hair that matched the lime green hat band and purse sported by her friend.  Tattoos?  I'll give you tattoos.  I think I saw the entire Canterbury Tales inked on the arm of one woman--or maybe it was the skyline of Milwaukee--I did not get close enough to be sure.

Gotta love it. 

You Can't Win Them All

I didn't realize how spoiled I was for customer oriented auction houses--and the customer service provided to us from our favourite auctioneers.

Until today.

Dear One is occupied elsewhere,  it is gray and drizzly at the moment, and I ventured out of my usual territory to attend an auction by a company I was unfamiliar with.  I had viewed their site online and saw some wonderful mid century chairs that really interested me.  The drive would be an hour-ish, the auction starting time reasonable and off I went.

I arrived on site about an hour ahead to view the sale--and the crowd was already huge.  It easily swelled to 200 people. 
They were there for all the tools and hardware and traditional man type things.   I was very warmly greeted by the clerk.  She directed me to the one of the auctioneers to answer my question of the order of the sale--I knew that pieces of furniture are usually not the first items that are sold.

Let's cut to the chase.  I really had been waiting and waiting and WAITING.  The drizzle started and my patience was thinning as I heard the auctioneers auctioning choice on a large box of belt buckles.  $2.50 each belt buckles.  It was going to be a long day.

I had viewed the chairs I was interested in.  Strangely, they were in the basement of the house, in a very poorly lit room.  Normally in "these parts" the items are brought out of the house for good viewing.  I was glad I had a strong flashlight with me--and saw the four of nine chairs that I could be interested in.

Waiting waiting WAITING, I decided to double check on something with a couple of the ring men.

 "If I am successful in winning a few chairs in the basement, will you bring them up the stairs for me?

" Ha ha Lady.  We are selling as is, where is, when they are sold they are your responsibility."

"W-w-w-what?  I am by myself and I could not possibly get them up without help.  I can load my truck, but the steps are steep.  Quite a hazard actually."

"Yeah, right. Not my problem  Bring somebody to help you."

And that was that.  It took me exactly four minutes to walk to my car and drive away--to drive away with my eager bidding card and full checkbook.

My interpretation.  This Deadbeat Auctioneer was able to get this estate to auction by keeping their costs down---not much sale set up- which was attractive to the consignor.  This means--sell the stuff in place-- you don't have to pay set up people- and let the buyer deal with it.  I wonder what happens if someone is injured loading stuff out--who is responsible?  The hapless consignor who does not know that they hired a Loser Auction House?   

Live and learn.  How can I still be learning after being in the business this long?

Who Was Irene?

I always get a little funny feeling in my stomach when I see old photographs or portraits for sale in various antique selling venues.
Someone's family decided that the often unnamed people in photos do not warrant keeping the pictures around.  And who can blame them? Pictures of people and we do not know who they are?  This is the stuff of estate sales.

But then--what about paintings or portraits or drawings of mysterious people? Often for sale and let's face it--This Lady Antique Dealer has several of them on her walls at home and in the shop.

This drawing of Irene is very bittersweet to me.  This pencil drawing on thin paper and framed and matted is signed by the artist Luigi Corbellini, an Italian American artist who dates from 1901-1968.  Inscribed on the lower left "To My Amour Irene".

Who is Irene?  Didn't Irene have family that would have treasured a drawing by a good listed artist who was in love with Irene?  I guess not.  Lucky me to pick this up recently at auction.

She is beautiful and by week's end will be for sale for $295 at the Odana Antiques and Art shop in Madison Wisconsin.

Julius' Ducks

You never know what you will uncover when clearing out an estate property--sometimes the quietest finds can be the most interesting.  I uncovered a few treasures while cleaning out my aunt's flat last spring.

My great grandfather  Julius was an interesting character--a company executive, a house designer and builder, a watercolorist, a rose and dahlia grower, a decoy carver and painter and a duck hunter.  If truth be told--DUCK HUNTER would be in capital letters.

Dear Julius is going to be a subject of a feature article forthcoming in a national sportsman's magazine.  So I will not give any hints and leave the story unfolding to a nice decoy collector who is writing the article.

I sure wish I could spend an afternoon with my Great Grampa.

Magic With What You Already Own

Does anyone else get a little depressed when they walk into a modern home goods decorator kind of store?

On rare occasions I actually shop in a brick and mortar store.  By rare--I actually mean maybe once every couple of months.  I always leave with visual and brain overload--and overwhelmed by pillows, picture frames, chinese chinese chinese everything including modern knock offs of every widget you can think of.

Lately, I am taking a page, no, a CHAPTER out of my maternal grandmother's decorating philosophy.  Less is more and work with what you have, you don't always need to buy buy buy new.

Grandma Lenore was superb at decorating her home--she tweeked and rearranged items she already owned to give a new fresh look to her rooms--and she did it often.  A new little fabric on a pillow there, or a furniture rearrangement there.  She would take that lamp out of that room and reusue it on a different table.  Or rotate paintings.  These changes were often done seasonally and it really kept her house fresh to the eye.  She attended auctions--and would spend very little money to acquire a need New To Her widget and incorporate that in her scheme.

Our shop sales have been gangbusters the last two months particularly.  People are buying small furniture and paintings--and we work hard at pricing fairly and accessibly.  I am seeing buyers well under 40 years old--and I am hopeful that folks are seeing the value in quality vintage over the Poorly Made But Looks Good stuff from yet another mall home decorator shop.

Paying Attention

I am not a person who makes new year's resolutions.  At least not the traditional ones.

This year, 2018, is The Year Of Paying Attention.  So far--almost halfway through January, I am still on course.

Paying Attention to the Antiques Trade:  People buy what they like--they do not buy what I THINK they should like.  Our sales at Odana Antique Mall in Madison have increased markedly--as we are stocking what the shoppers are looking for--not what we want them to like.  The midwest Madison crowd wants room ready.  No project pieces.  Fairly priced artwork.  Our experience--no furniture before 1900.  And not too off beat.  They actually buy conservative furniture--it's the creative accessories that they like.  A compromise for me.

Paying Attention To Food:    Readers of this blog will know I am an Aldi nut.  It is rare that I venture  to other stores these days.  The expansion of creative organic produce and gallons of milk with three week expiration dates for 95 cents are enough reasons to keep on shopping there.  Oh yes--and the gruyere cheese and pine nut hummus and raspberries and butter lettuce salad kits and.....

Paying Attention to Friends/Family:    But there are just so many hours in the day--evaluating and nurturing healthy friendships and giving those my attention.  Good friends are like gold.  One hundred and thirty five facebook friends including the pharmacist clerk?  Not so much.

Paying Attention to Who/What is Driving My Narrative:  I have found it too easy to let my thoughts be driven by the local and national media and the latest tweet, you tube video, television screen crawler or facebook posting.  Politicians, Hollywood Types and Otherwise Just Loud People have every right to express and act on their opinions although very different from mine. The actual definition of tolerance is the ability or willingness to permit something, particularly the existence of opinions or behavior that do not agree with mine.  I am not sure when secular society changed the definition of tolerance to mean that all ideas and opinions are equally true and must be universally accepted..  I choose, this year, for my sanity, not to be the squirrel chasing the nut.