Keith and I are diligent readers of shelter publications. Scotch that- we are diligent browsers, as we get so many complimentary subscriptions, we’d have a fulltime job reading them. So scan them we do, and that’s not such a bad thing, as a brief and rapid look better serves to make us aware of contemporary trends in a way that a narrow focus might not.
Lately what we find is a whole lot of what we used to see almost exclusively in World of Interiors – otherwise ordinary spaces, filled with found objects artfully deployed. We used to refer to this- and yes, disparagingly- as garage sale chic. With my own objective to try to generate interest in better quality period material, and I’ll admit it, engender a sale and thus earn my daily crust, what were so often found items given pride of place seemed inimical to what we were trying to accomplish, and certainly at odds with our stock in trade.
After years of contemplative reflection, it’s finally occurred to me, though, that connoisseurship starts at a variety of different places. As I think about it, I’m not aware that anyone has, at least lately, found God amongst the Adamesque splendour of Osterley Park, but a fair number of people trudge with an almost religious fervor to the Alemany swap meet in San Francisco- and trudge home again possessed of something purchased solely because of its aesthetic appeal. Valuable? Possibly not much inherently, but if one makes an acquisition that has particular personal resonance, who’s to say what constitutes value?
Moreover, all of us who are inveterate collectors started somewhere. My own initial collecting passion, between the ages of 8 and 10, was for- wait for it- antique bottles. Mind you, some of them were exquisite- extraordinary colors, mainly the result of the interaction between sun and trace minerals in the glass. Now, though, I don’t have a one nor have I for, well, several decades. But enjoy them I did, and that’s the ultimate point, isn’t it? Well, perhaps not the ultimate, as enjoyment waxes and wanes, waning usually when replaced with another collecting if not passion than at least enthusiasm. But it is that sort of engagement that will ultimately yield a degree of connoisseurship. And who am I to say that a vintage electric toaster from the 1930’s has any less appeal or design integrity than a Linnell chair from the 1780’s.