Collectibles
I'm not a big collector of stuff. Once upon a time I liked stuff more than I do nowadays (although even with my amicable separation from stuff, I seem to have accumulated a ridiculous amount of clutter in the space of a few years).
I used to collect teapots. I've never been a big drinker of tea--even now, I tend to prefer what I call "not-tea": tisanes, infusions, tea-like beverages for which no actual tea leaves have been harmed--but I love the teapot. I especially like the shape of traditional Asian and English teapots. There's just something about those harmonious curves, the sweep of a well-proportioned spout, the skillful decorations (when there are any), that pings something inside me. I can't really explain it. As I am perhaps overly fond of saying, you don't get to pick what moves you. It just does.
When people know you collect something, they often give you gifts to add to your collection. This is of course very thoughtful of them, but sometimes it means that you end up with a collection that doesn't really reflect your taste. By the time I left Italy, I had exactly three teapots I truly loved, and a huge collection of novelty pots, mostly presents from my mother or sister. Some of them were vaguely amusing--the dancing bunnies, paws clasped to produce the spout, or the sewing machine covered with mice, both gave me a chuckle when I first opened them--but not really what I had in mind when I started to collect teapots. I had a cabinet stuffed full of these indiscriminately assembled specimens, and even more crammed into a box in a back room. I was secretly glad to be rid of most of them when I left, since instead of the joy of a choice selection of meaningful objects they had become a mound of obligation and guilt at my (carefully hidden) lack of appreciation.
I've kind of gone off teapots since then.
These days my collections are a little more careful (and take up less space). Those of you who have been to my apartment may have noticed that I have a small collection of vintage Italian magazine advertisements. I'm especially partial to those for restoratives--Proton being the main brand, touted to resolve every conceivable health problem. I also like ads for food and drink. There's one outlier, an ad proclaiming the wonders of indoor plumbing, that would be perfect in the bathroom if I weren't afraid the dampness would ruin it. The art work and text were just too great to pass up.
(I realize this would be a perfect spot for photos, but I'm on the couch and my camera is over there and I'm feeling lazy. Maybe I will come back and add some pictures later.)
This being a pretty restrictive category of collectibles, all of my current batch (there are only nine so far) are exactly what I want. I either picked them out myself, or delegated Dario--armed with careful instructions--to make a pilgrimage to the monthly Ferrara flea market, where I know that there are always a couple of booths selling the kind of ads I want. Right now they're very simply mounted in cheap glass-and-clip frames; maybe someday I'll spring for something fancier, but probably not in the foreseeable future. As my collection grows, so does the expense of reframing.
Anyway, the reason this is on my mind is that I have stumbled across a new genre that I simply must begin collecting immediately: recruitment posters for the Women's Land Army. (Oh, how I lust after the one linked there! God and ploughs, such an excellent combination.)
This is a naturally limited collection, since there don't seem to be a huge number of variations on the poster. There's this one, much more feminine than the plough version. The UVA Training School poster is quite fabulous. Another urges women to "Pitch in and Help!" with the efforts of the U.S. Crop Corps (which apparently covers farm animals as well, judging by the chickens and the milking). I have a bid out on eBay for what appears to be the easiest image to find, which is luckily one of my favorites in terms of the art work. Who wouldn't want a healthy, happy job in such a pastoral setting?
One really interesting facet of this genre is that there was apparently a Women's Land Army in both the US and the UK, and there's an Australian one as well. (Now I must make it my mission in life to procure an Australian WLA recruiting poster. My life simply won't be complete otherwise.) Although the Oracle says that the US version wasn't established until WWII, even in my brief research so far I've found items that are apparently from the earlier war, and printed in the U.S. (I also love all the differences in emphasis: "drive that plough!" vs. "the girl he left behind.")
Even though the pickings are slim, there are some related streams of posters that also work well for me. This page summarizes several of them: the series urging people to harvest war crops and plant war gardens, vintage posters of nutrition guidelines, posters about rationing. Also extremely awesome. I envision a few posters hanging in the kitchen and/or dining area of my future apartment, and perhaps one or two adorning my future office. I love it when my personal and professional worlds collide in a good way.
I'm more partial to the WWI era than WWII, but there are some excellent pieces in both periods. Even so, there are only so many posters that fit the bill, especially if one sorts for attractive art rather than purely historical interest.
And as I've discovered, having careful limitations on one's collections can be a very good thing.
I used to collect teapots. I've never been a big drinker of tea--even now, I tend to prefer what I call "not-tea": tisanes, infusions, tea-like beverages for which no actual tea leaves have been harmed--but I love the teapot. I especially like the shape of traditional Asian and English teapots. There's just something about those harmonious curves, the sweep of a well-proportioned spout, the skillful decorations (when there are any), that pings something inside me. I can't really explain it. As I am perhaps overly fond of saying, you don't get to pick what moves you. It just does.
When people know you collect something, they often give you gifts to add to your collection. This is of course very thoughtful of them, but sometimes it means that you end up with a collection that doesn't really reflect your taste. By the time I left Italy, I had exactly three teapots I truly loved, and a huge collection of novelty pots, mostly presents from my mother or sister. Some of them were vaguely amusing--the dancing bunnies, paws clasped to produce the spout, or the sewing machine covered with mice, both gave me a chuckle when I first opened them--but not really what I had in mind when I started to collect teapots. I had a cabinet stuffed full of these indiscriminately assembled specimens, and even more crammed into a box in a back room. I was secretly glad to be rid of most of them when I left, since instead of the joy of a choice selection of meaningful objects they had become a mound of obligation and guilt at my (carefully hidden) lack of appreciation.
I've kind of gone off teapots since then.
These days my collections are a little more careful (and take up less space). Those of you who have been to my apartment may have noticed that I have a small collection of vintage Italian magazine advertisements. I'm especially partial to those for restoratives--Proton being the main brand, touted to resolve every conceivable health problem. I also like ads for food and drink. There's one outlier, an ad proclaiming the wonders of indoor plumbing, that would be perfect in the bathroom if I weren't afraid the dampness would ruin it. The art work and text were just too great to pass up.
(I realize this would be a perfect spot for photos, but I'm on the couch and my camera is over there and I'm feeling lazy. Maybe I will come back and add some pictures later.)
This being a pretty restrictive category of collectibles, all of my current batch (there are only nine so far) are exactly what I want. I either picked them out myself, or delegated Dario--armed with careful instructions--to make a pilgrimage to the monthly Ferrara flea market, where I know that there are always a couple of booths selling the kind of ads I want. Right now they're very simply mounted in cheap glass-and-clip frames; maybe someday I'll spring for something fancier, but probably not in the foreseeable future. As my collection grows, so does the expense of reframing.
Anyway, the reason this is on my mind is that I have stumbled across a new genre that I simply must begin collecting immediately: recruitment posters for the Women's Land Army. (Oh, how I lust after the one linked there! God and ploughs, such an excellent combination.)
This is a naturally limited collection, since there don't seem to be a huge number of variations on the poster. There's this one, much more feminine than the plough version. The UVA Training School poster is quite fabulous. Another urges women to "Pitch in and Help!" with the efforts of the U.S. Crop Corps (which apparently covers farm animals as well, judging by the chickens and the milking). I have a bid out on eBay for what appears to be the easiest image to find, which is luckily one of my favorites in terms of the art work. Who wouldn't want a healthy, happy job in such a pastoral setting?
One really interesting facet of this genre is that there was apparently a Women's Land Army in both the US and the UK, and there's an Australian one as well. (Now I must make it my mission in life to procure an Australian WLA recruiting poster. My life simply won't be complete otherwise.) Although the Oracle says that the US version wasn't established until WWII, even in my brief research so far I've found items that are apparently from the earlier war, and printed in the U.S. (I also love all the differences in emphasis: "drive that plough!" vs. "the girl he left behind.")
Even though the pickings are slim, there are some related streams of posters that also work well for me. This page summarizes several of them: the series urging people to harvest war crops and plant war gardens, vintage posters of nutrition guidelines, posters about rationing. Also extremely awesome. I envision a few posters hanging in the kitchen and/or dining area of my future apartment, and perhaps one or two adorning my future office. I love it when my personal and professional worlds collide in a good way.
I'm more partial to the WWI era than WWII, but there are some excellent pieces in both periods. Even so, there are only so many posters that fit the bill, especially if one sorts for attractive art rather than purely historical interest.
And as I've discovered, having careful limitations on one's collections can be a very good thing.