I know, I know. Don’t remind me. I’m in de-stuffing mode. Just moments ago, it seems, I wrote about how burdened I feel by all my excess stuff — how utterly, urgently, madly desperate I am to rid myself of clutter. Oh, poor, poor, poor pitiful me!
Yes, yes, I know I claim to crave some zen-like purity and simplicity of thought and environment.
Still.
Some thrift-store items truly are like pound puppies, practically whining and giving that big, sad-eye “Oh, please take me home ’cause I need you so badly!” look. To wit:
You have to understand. It’s not the trayness of this tray that made me have to give it a home this afternoon. It’s the story.
I don’t actually know the story. I just know it has one.
This little tray was made by Wayne. Or “Wayn e.” It says so in pencil right on its back. It was made with minimal skill, using the cheapest materials, and the tile was laid without reference to any sort of spacer or straight edge — though it does show a nice color and design sense.
I don’t know who Wayn e was or when he labored over his project. But I’m picturing the 1950s. Mosaics were a big craft item back then, and these colors were popular. I’m seeing a boy in Arts & Crafts class or maybe Boy Scouts, painstakingly placing every tile and thinking about how impressed Mom will be when he presents it to her on Mother’s Day or her birthday.
I’m thinking about Mom, proudly serving iced tea or cake and explaining to guests that her Wayn e made the tray, his very self. The tray has the stains to prove it was well-used and when I spotted it in a corner of the New Life Church thrift store it was covered with the sort of greasy grime that comes only from long exposure in a kitchen.
I’m thinking about how this cheap, ill-made, very, very precious thing ended up selling for $3 to a curious stranger. Did Mom grow old and die, this cheesy little tray wanted by nobody else in the family? Did Wayn e turn out badly, so eventually nobody wanted this reminder of him around? Did nobody realize this was once someone’s labor of love? Did the tray get shoved into a cardboard box in the garage before a relative in de-cluttering mode thought, “Better to give it to the church than toss it in the trash”?
I don’t know. I just know that a lot of time, a lot of unskilled care, and a lot of love went into that tray. It deserves a good home.
I scrubbed it down, bleached out the worst stains, and was going to re-grout it, seal it, and use it for its original purpose. But now I think I’ll just find an attractive chain and a couple of nice-looking hooks and hang it on a wall, as is. The missing and discolored grout somehow add to its charm. Scrubbing out the grime brightened it up, but ironically deprived it of some of its character.
So yeah, I’m decluttering. But pound puppies just need homes. That’s all there is to it.
Personally, I’m something of a connoisseur of the less than perfect. It says, “This was made by a person, who did it because he wanted to.” Not a machine-made, mass-produced keeping-up-with-the-Joneses gewgaw, or plain commercial paint-by-numbers “art” for money instead of love.
But people tell me I’m weird.
I feel the same way about hand made crocheted doilies and tablecloths. Somebody made the item for a loved one, probably. Lots of work….and then for sale for a couple dollars at a thrift store. Mmmmm that is why I have so much stuff, too. We are decluttering, too. To make room for more stuff… (sigh)
When I get such an urge, I try to not buy and go back home for a day. If I still want it tomorrow I go back and buy it, but most of the time my excitement flags and I come to my senses. 😉
Definitely the 50s (I made a smaller one myself; it’s when I discovered that mosaics were not fun but sanding and finishing was). Kits came in many sizes and every price range, and included all types of items such as tile hot pads, small and large boxes, picture and mirror frames, and of course, trays. This one may have been an original design, it’s hard to tell from here.
If you ever decide to use it as a tray, I suggest gluing a felt or cork padding on the bottom (if there isn’t one already). It’s less scratchy and less noisy.
Just amen. I have a small set of ceramic bookends my late Mother made me when I was a wee lad. I protect them like they were precious gems. Likely cost $5 at the time including labor and paint. They have a good home. Everything else I own can likely be replaced.
I grew up in the 50s, and remember making mosaics too. Don’t remember where ot how it started, but we didn’t have money for “kits” or even cheap tiles, so we made ours with beans, seeds, sand, small stones and other interesting things found outside. The background was usually cloth or a board of some kind, but many were done on heavy paper. Good frames were not on the budget either, so most were never hung or used for anything, but I do remember one we made of an old mirror. The silvering was bad on much of it, but enough remained to leave as reflecting pools among the seeds and stones. Mother hung it in the hallway, and it was repaired many times when things fell off.
I have no idea whatever happened to it, and wish I still had it. But if someone found it in a thrift store… I hope they took it home and cherished it, imagining the story behind it, just as you have done Claire. Good memories… 🙂
Off topic, I found a rubber boa in the garden today:
http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v63/Zxcv12003/IMG_0171_zps6dbd7baa.jpg
http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v63/Zxcv12003/IMG_0172_zps0a790bd5.jpg
Largest I have seen, not long but quite fat. These are really cool snakes, very quiet, don’t bite, don’t pee on you like garter snakes. They like to wrap around your wrist and will stay that way for hours (I think they like the warmth), although the pressure gets uncomfortable after a while.
They are also great escape artists because they are so strong. I saw one go to the corner of our terrarium and stick his nose in the corner, pushing up. He got where he was literally standing on his tail, jammed his head under the cover edge, lifted his entire body up on the edge, then cranked until the lid popped off. I put phone books on the lid but he got out later anyway. Never did find him again.
I thought people would like a look at one of the more interesting animals in Western Oregon. I will let him loose again outside as they eat mice.
Claire, although I empathize with you about your desire to de-clutter your life, I can’t for the life of me understand why on earth you felt the compulsion to buy a mosaic. Whenever I’ve been in a thrift-store, I’ve personally never experienced what you’ve described as that “sad-eye” “pound puppy” impression from any inanimate object. What I see when I go there is potentially useful junk, just like any shopping mall.
I understand that many people buy things they don’t need, or even want, because they are attempting to fill some emotional void in what they perceive to be their meaningless lives. Other people do the same, but with food, or pets. I think the psychological trick here, is to become emotionally satisfied with what you already have, without developing a Messianic complex (hell, a Rubix complex is arguably better).
For whatever it’s worth, perhaps if you want to acknowledge that “a lot of time, a lot of unskilled care, and a lot of love went into that tray. It deserves a good home,” then may I be so bold as to suggest adopting a child instead? Stefan Molyneux has really advocated the idea that spanking children violates the Non-Aggression Principle, and since “he who rocks the cradle rules the world,” might it be a better allocation of resources to focus on someone who would be there at your death bed rather than some piece of artwork?
Of course, I guess you could always take the child to the thrift shop, or better yet, dumpster diving, as you’ve written about in the past. 🙂
Kyle Rearden — Re buying tray vs adopting child: The tray cost three bux; child is somewhat more. Plus I actually wanted the tray; can’t say that about a child.
Besides, if I’m looking for objects to fill my empty, meaningless, bleak, misspent life, it strikes me it’s a lot better to own a tray than to take out all my obviously twisted psychological longings on a poor, helpless human being.
And you know — try lightening up. It’s just a freakin’ tray.
And the tray won’t talk back, want money or break your heart. 😉
But, Claire… Walmart has a special on Chinese kids this week. They’re really cheap, not like those damned Detroit union-made things.
I’m going to have to rate that Rearden as a moderately successful trolling. I mean… One the one hand, picking up a cheap piece of art at the thrift shop = adopting a child? I figured that had to be humor. On the other hand, he maintained a seemingly dead serious tone all through.
On the gripping hand, he could just be bugf#<k nuts.
Hi Bear,
if you look from time to time in museums, you’ll find EVERYTHING
was made by hand- – -and you are right – once you get into HOW something was made, you will have more respect and appreciation
for that article too. As an example, glass blowing comes to mind as an original art form that everyone does a little different.
My mother comes to mind. When I was about 12, I watched my mother china paint. Now 58 years later I still have the china she painted and fired by hand and as a non artist I’m still amazed at what she can do. (She used to complain about spending – then the going rate- ) of $35.00 per ounce of gold dust for the edges of her plates and handles of her coffee set. Needless to say the gold dust is 1,300.00 per ounce!
Mom made a pair of end tables a lot like that, back in the mid 1950s. They didn’t have two nickels to rub together, but there was a lot of love that went into those tables.
Thank you for making me think of a very fond childhood memory, and I hope you get the full pleasure out of your pound puppy.
Rusty, I’ve been known to spend time in museums. General history and tech types mostly, not art-specific though. Certainly not museums of modern art (which I confess most often — but not always — leaves me cold).
My favorite museum is the National Ornamental Metal Museum in Memphis. The exhibits are (or were, when I was last there 10-11 years ago) excellent, but for the clued-in… they have a working smithy. Apparently most visitors never wander that far back. I did, and spent the day drinking beer and talking shop with the fine folks sweating in there.
A while ago there was a guy who wanted Claire to step up and appoint herself Queen of the Occupy Movement. Now there’s somebody telling her that just because she has a fondness for curios, she must have an empty meaningless life and should adopt a child??
Claire, my friend, you get the strangest trolls.
Awesome! I used to make trays like that in 2nd grade. It was so MUCH fun, and I was so proud of my handiwork, and I just KNOW that Wayn e is thrilled that someone wanted his tray. Besides. my motto is: if it draws you to it ..if you just like it…buy it! Something like that tray would make me happy every time I looked at it. Isn’t that the point?
Kathy Wilder — Precisely!
And I’m amazed at how many people here have memories of something like that. Here’s to Wayn e and things hand-made with love.
LOL! I’d forgotten the Occupy Guy. Yeah, when you’re even semi-hemi-demi-quasi-pseudo famous, people project a lot of their own oddball stuff on you. (Sort of like me projecting my secret longing for a child, which I didn’t even know I had, into that thrift-store tray, eh?)
“But, Claire… Walmart has a special on Chinese kids this week. They’re really cheap, not like those damned Detroit union-made things.”
🙂 I’m holding out for a Stepford kid, myself.
“And the tray won’t talk back, want money or break your heart. ;-)”
Yup. Nor give you every sort of plague and pox that happens to be going around the kindergarten. SOOOO many advantages of a tray!
“Off topic, I found a rubber boa in the garden today:”
Paul, I love that! I had zero idea that there were any sort of boas in Oregon. Always assumed they were … well, tropical, or at least From Someplace Else. It has such subtle coloring, too. And it was friendly enough (and you were bold enough) to let you bring it inside and wrap itself around your hand? Wow.
BTW, thanks for the link in another thread about a “pusher” for small trailers. I had no idea.
Until now I had never heard of a rubber boa.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rubber_boa
Just the fact that it’s an item that’s not mass produced (soul-less) makes it worth taking home and treasuring.
I know you’re going to hang it, but my final justification for “go ahead and buy that” type of stuff is if it’s functional or not. If it does more than just look pretty (too) it’s worth it.
I wish there were a way to add to the back of that tray a hyperlink to this post. I have no doubt it will one day end up back at some yard sale and really Claire, you are now part of the life of that tray. I wish everyone would do it; sign and date their work or possesions. Its a matter of personal pride to put your name on something, but also helps tell the story for the future generations. Mass produced crap just gets one of those “inspected by” stickers with initials. I try to remember to sign and date all my work because its always personal to me.
Its either that or adopt a child you could pass the tray along to, thereby insuring the tray has a good home after we’ve gone away. Although, in that case you should sign and date the child. 😉
FishOrMan — What a lovely thought. Although I do believe I’ll skip the the sign and date the child part. Might be frowned on by the authorities. Besides, would one use a tattooing tool? Branding iron? Or just … carve?
Heh.
That last comment reminded me of the morbid “Little Willies” poems from another era. I cannot remember if I had posted these here before.
Example:
Willie fell down the elevator.
Wasn’t found till six days later.
Then the neighbors sniffed, “Gee whiz!
What a spoiled child Willie is.”
— Harry Graham, “Ruthless Rhymes for Heartless Homes”
http://ruthlessrhymes.com/category/little_willies/little-willie-poems
LOL, A.G. — and your comment reminded me of the great Edward Gorey and (among other things) his Gashlycrumb Tinies.
http://www.brainpickings.org/index.php/2011/01/19/edward-gorey-the-gashlycrumb-tinies/
A is for Amy who fell down the stairs
B is for Basil assaulted by bears
C is for Clara who wasted away
D is for Desmond thrown out of a sleigh …
My wife’s grandmother made things. Painted ceramics. Tatting. I like most of the things we have from her. I would just like a few less things. In some ways I wish that we had inherited only one or two examples of each art form. But no, we have many, many things. So now, which ones do you discard or send to the church basement? For sure, don’t ask my wife!! Sometimes it’s best to just select the items you like least and have them disappear.
Oh gads, Larry. That can be so true!
I admit that, sometime way back in my history I either disappeared or let the dog chew on a partner’s favorite geegaw. Oh, bad! I am not proud. But I hear ya.