Mater Theos

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You've probably been wondering about my latest huntings and gatherings. As you know, G-Dub, my local Goodwill store, is my favorite weekly foraging spot. The rarity or value of a certain piece is not the objective for me; the mellow, the little bit worn, the unwanted, are usually what strike my fancy.

Last week, I found this lovely vintage icon to add to my collection. I'm not personally of the Catholic or Orthodox faith, but I love them for their beauty, history, symbolism, and suggestion of the Divine Feminine. I'm guessing this one is Ukrainian, circa 1920s.  The sticker, still on the back, says, "Zawada Book Store, The Store of Gifts, 80 So. 15th St., Pittsburgh, PA".   The print is 12" x 16", and the colors amazingly still vibrant. I paid $7.99 for it, which is more than reasonable.

The Greek MP and OV are an abbreviation for "Mater Theos", the Mother of God. By the way, it's OV, not "oy", in the bubble cloud above Mary's head.

what a wonderful world

You wouldn't believe it, since my knowledge of geography is terrible, but I happen to love maps and globes, especially lovely vintage ones.  On my weekly G-Dub (my local Goodwill store) trip, I found this cute little four inch, transfer-painted steel globe, with a delicious patina.

As soon as I get home, I hop online to see what I can learn about my vintage finds. There were a few clues on the globe to help date it:  Leningrad, named in 1924, following the death of Lenin; Persia, officially renamed Iran in 1935; Siam changed to Thailand in 1939; and Korea was known as Chosen under Japanese rule from 1910-1045.

Well, to make a long story short, the little child's desk globe was made by Ohio Art Company, in Bryan, Ohio, in 1928. They're fairly rare, and as far as I can tell, sell in the $30-$60 range.  How much did I pay?  $8.99.  A little on the high end, for G-Dub, but I felt a certain spiritual connection.  It looks very much at home on my desk.  I'm always amazed at the size of the Atlantic...

When we contemplate the whole globe 

as one great dewdrop, striped and dotted 

with continents and islands, 

flying through space with other stars 

all singing and shining together as one, 

the whole universe appears as an infinite storm of beauty. 

― John Muir

Channeling Julie No. 2

I'm channeling my inner Julie this week with another one of my random favorite things.  I like to keep my teabags (PG Tips) in a vintage Mason jar.  Every morning, when I make my tea, I enjoy the simple ritual of unscrewing the lid, removing a bag, and inhaling deeply, before replacing it.  The sweet, heady scent of the tea is so therapeutic, and I love the way the sunlight plays through the blue bubbled glass. It's just one of those little things that makes me happy, like raindrops on roses, and whiskers on kittens.

I adore simple pleasures. 

They are the last refuge of the complex.

― Oscar Wilde

chess and so forth...

I decided to shake things up a bit this week and went to G-Dub (my local Goodwill store) on Thursday, instead of my usual Friday.  I came home with two books:  Woody Allen on Woody Allen, and Theodore Rex, by Edmund Morris, a vintage Romanian etched glass lidded biscuit jar, and a lovely wooden box of vintage chess pieces.  Everything behind the counter was fifty percent off, so the chess set was $4.99.

After a little poking around online, I found that it's a German Staunton boxwood chess set from about the 1940s or 50s.  It's got a wonderful patina, and the knight is slightly varied from the classic Staunton traditional set.  The Staunton pattern was registered in March of 1849, but chess has been around forever.  They say it originated in India in the sixth century, as a game of military strategy, and since has been Europeanized, and modified over the centuries, to the game we know today.

When I was a little girl, I learned to play on a Medieval style King Arthur set from the late 1950s.  I enjoy chess, but don't have the opportunity to  play as much as I would like.

Speaking of, the sexiest chess game, hands down, would have to be that between Faye Dunaway and Steve McQueen in The Thomas Crown Affair, 1968.  Hot checkmate. Very hot.

For those of you who get a thrill from seeing the price tag...
here it is...before the 50% discount...

You say lustreware...I say lusterware...

A glint of shiny copper caught my eye, among the jars and glassware on the housewares shelf at G-Dub (my local Goodwill store) last week. Magpies always go for the glitter. Sure enough, it was a little copper lusterware creamer; a total steal for $2.99.  (Sorry, I was hasty with the Goo Gone, and forgot to leave the wax pencil-marked price for all to enjoy.) Lusterware or lustreware, as our English friends like to spell it, is pottery or porcelain, with metallic oxides in the glaze, that give the effect of iridescence.

After a little research, I found this creamer was older than I suspected, dating from about 1810 to 1840, when most of the overall luster pieces were produced. The chip on the spout actually gives a clue to its origin, exposing the rough, red earthenware clay, used to make these pieces in England. The copper pieces are the most common, followed by silver, and then gold, the more rare and collectible. I now have one piece of each, in my  collection of three. The silver pieces were sometimes known as "poor man's silver", a shiny, inexpensive substitute for the real thing, back in the day.

Gibsons, Staffordshire, lusterware, silver

Wedgwood, Fallow Deer pattern, lusterware, gold

McCoy Pottery and so forth...

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I love the lush details in the pattern, the yummy color.

Every Friday I go to Goodwill.  I know, I'm obsessed.  Believe it or not, I sometimes walk out empty-handed, but not today.  I found a lovely McCoy 1930s basket weave planter for two dollars.  The fun part is researching online when I get home. It's currently selling for $50.  

McCoy is an American company which produced pottery in Roseville, Ohio, from 1910 to the mid-1970s.  I like to keep an eye out for unmarked pieces in garage sales and thrift stores.  My favorites are those I find with dirt still clinging to the sides, maybe even a dead plant.

Click here for a peek at some of my other pieces.

This little crack in the rim is not damage, but a manufacturing flaw.
You can tell by the way it is unglazed around the crack. 

deconstructed

Restoration Hardware's spring catalog just came in the mail, and I couldn't help but notice the new featured line called "Deconstructed".  It's furniture made to look like it's from the 1700s, with parts of the upholstery torn away to expose the old world artistry of its inner workings, complete with faux nail holes in the wood, and bits of worn fabric still clinging to random tacks.  It's an interesting concept, and much more affordable than a real piece from that time period.

I have a few worn chairs of my own.  Maybe I'll go ahead and rip the upholstery off the back and sides.  Sounds fun, but something tells me it won't look quite as chic or Napoleanic.

Click here to see more from Restoration Hardware. 

mellow and a little bit worn

I don't like my things to be perfect; 

I prefer them to be mellow

and a little bit worn.

This happens to be true with gifts I give, as well.  I like objects with a little patina, a little history. Those who receive Christmas gifts from me, know they will most likely get something with a bit of must or rust.  Not only do I consider older objects works of art, embodied with wonderful history, giving them as gifts is a beautiful form of recycling. 

I picked up this great vintage potato ricer at Goodwill today.  I love the orangey-ness, the crustiness, the endless potatoes that have been riced, and the lovely industrial design.  It's for my daughter, unless... it decides to make itself at home on the kitchen shelf at Willow Manor.  

You push the button, we do the rest...

My paternal grandfather with camera circa 1940
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It's tradition at Willow Manor to hop in the old green Land Rover and head to the Franklin County Fair Grounds the Friday after Thanksgiving for the season opening of the Scott Antique Show.  Hundreds of vendors set up their booths once a month, from November through March. They happen to have a show in Atlanta, as well, for those of you who live in that southern neck of the woods.  I love to pull my red vinyl two-wheel cart along behind me, in search of buried treasure. 

I picked up a sweet little Brownie Flash Six-20, a 1940 variation of the quintessential American camera for $2.00.  The first Brownie was introduced by Eastman Kodak in February 1900, as a very basic cardboard box camera with a simple meniscus lens that took 2 1/4 inch square pictures on 117 roll film. The Brownie introduced the concept of the snapshot, intended as a camera that anyone cold afford, leading to the popular slogan, "You push the button, we do the rest."  The camera was named after the popular cartoons created by Palmer Cox.  

american seating

My three children are adults now. Lately I've found myself strangely drawn to children's things.  Maybe I'm in the early stages of latent grandparenthood?

Last Friday, on my weekly Gee-Dub stop, I found a tiny pair of 21" school chairs from the 1940s for $7.00 each.  I love their industrial style, as well as the mellow patina. 

The seats stand only 11" from the ground, so they most likely were used in a kindergarten classroom. They are marked "Envoy", and were made by American Seating, Grand Rapids, Michigan.

American Seating, founded in 1886, is responsible for just about every kind of public seating imaginable, including schools, courtrooms, schools, churches, stadiums, even buses and trains. They also manufactured vital materials for our soldiers in WWII.

Click on this link to the American Seating Museum for a lovely trip down the memory lane of chairs.

the number of dead people is increasing

Isn’t it so weird how the number of dead people is increasing even though the earth stays the same size, so that one day there isn’t going to be room to bury anyone anymore? For my ninth birthday last year, Grandma gave me a subscription to National Geographic, which she calls “the National Geographic”. She also gave me a white blazer, because I only wear white clothes, and it’s too big to wear so it will last me a long time. She also gave me Grandpa’s camera, which I loved for two reasons. I asked why he didn’t take it with him when he left her. 

my paternal great-grandfather, Glenn Hanna
with his portable bellows camera, circa 1910

She said, “Maybe he wanted you to have it.” 

I said, “But I was negative-thirty years old.” 

She said, “Still.” 


Anyway, the fascinating thing was that I read in National Geographic that there are more people alive now than have died in all of human history. In other words, if everyone wanted to play Hamlet at once, they couldn’t, because there aren’t enough skulls. 

― Jonathan Safran Foer

Speaking of dead people, photography runs rampant in my DNA. All my paternal grandfathers were photographers, starting with Joseph Lorenzo Dow Hanna in the 1850s, when photography was a new fangled art. Friday, on my routine Goodwill stop, I spotted this lovely old Kodak accordion camera, a smaller version of the one my great-grandfather Glenn Hanna used, back in 1910. It stirred that crazy photographic gene and I had to bring it home with me. All the grandpas nodded in approval.

image:  Kodak folding accordion camera, my latest Gee-Dub find

miss america and a unibrow

So, what, besides a fuzzy unibrow for my Frida Kahlo Halloween costume, did I find at Gee-Dub this week?  A sweet little crystal clear depression glass bowl in the Miss America pattern for $1.99.  Life is good.

Depression glass is translucent glassware that was distributed free or at low cost in the United States around the time of the Great Depression, 1929 to the early 1940s. The Quaker Oats Company and other food distributors would include a piece of the glassware inside the box, as an incentive to purchase their product.  Movie theaters and business would sometimes hand out the glassware at the door.

Most depression glass was made in the Central and Midwest United States, where access to raw materials and power made it inexpensive to manufacture.  Various companies made over 100 patterns.  Since it has become highly collectible since the 1960s, it is becoming more and more scarce on the open market.

it's about passion

my vintage rosaries
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I'm not sure exactly how I contracted the passion for collecting, but the symptoms were evident at a very early age. Maybe I enjoy collecting because it takes me back to the simple comfort and joy of my childhood Little Golden Book and postage stamp collections.  

It may lie dormant for a while, but once you have caught the virus, it is a life long condition and it often returns with a renewed vigor. It might just be that it is instinctive for humans to collect, just as a magpie is compelled to hunt and gather shiny objects and drag them back to her nest.  I definitely like to have my things about me, like Mary Kate Danaher in The Quiet Man.

McCoy pottery, mercury glass, insulators, tarnished silver
in my retro metal medical cabinet

chalkwork icons
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There is a certain explorer spirit in me. I like to dig in dusty places. One discovery often leads to another, to a fresh search and the start of a new collection. In fact, I would have made a great archaeologist.  

Garage sales, flea markets, Gee-Dub (my local Goodwill store) and various antique shops are my favorite places to forage...the junkier the place, the better.  The rarity or value of a particular piece, is not the objective for me, but the mellow and a little bit worn, the unwanted, the unappreciated and orphaned, are what happens to strike my fancy.

the manor is filled
with the scent of old books

Other people's gatherings are endlessly fascinating, since it reveals an obvious look at the personalities behind the collections.  What objects do you like to hunt and gather? 

I think that interiors need 

a bit of a twist... most have 
no sense of irony or of real life, 

and there is nothing harmonious or soulful.

  

--Hubert Zandberg

Underwood Master 1939

It seems like just yesterday I perched on a stack of books at my grandfather's roll-top desk, typing with one finger at his Underwood typewriter.  I adored the mechanical tap-tap, the scent of ink, and the beauty of the mellow font; in fact, I still do.

When I spotted this Underwood Master, 1939, across a crowded room at the Heart of Ohio Antique Center, a few months ago, I flew to his side and made him my own.  Okay, he needs a little work; the keys are stiff and he needs a new ribbon. Still, a bargain at $30.

The Underwood Master became truly famous after a publicity stunt at the 1939 World's Fair in New York.  A gigantic 14 ton working model was constructed, earning the title "The World's Largest Typewriter".  It took paper 9 x 12 feet and the ribbon was 5 inches wide and 100 feet long.  Thank god, my Underwood isn't quite so large.

It does, however, evoke pleasant memories, as well as being personally symbolic.  Not in my wildest of dreams, would I have imagined my self turning to writing at this stage of my life.  Maybe my attraction to Grandpa's Underwood was a foreshadowing of my future?  Yes, I think it was. Who knew?

There is nothing to writing.  

All you do is sit down at a typewriter 

and bleed.

Ernest Hemingway 

heavy metal

Somewhere deep in my DNA, there must be a blacksmith.  I have a thing for heavy metal.  Not the music variety, but cast iron. There's something very sensual and earthy about the smooth cool surface to the touch. On my latest trip to my local Gee-Dub (Goodwill Store) I found a 10 inch by 3 inch vintage cast iron skillet with years of lovely patina.  It's marked Wagner Ware Sidney #8.  The Wagner Manufacturing Company was founded in Sidney, Ohio in 1891.  The name Wagner did not appear on skillets after 1922.  From the style of the "W", it's safe to say mine is one of the older models.

If you don't own a cast iron skillet, it's well worth the time and money to invest in one. You can find old seasoned ones for sale on the internet, thrift stores, flea markets, or garage sales. Look for one that might look as if it has seen better days. If the pan is rusty or encrusted with grease, buy it anyway. With just a bit of gentle cleaning (I don't use a lot of soap) and a light swipe of vegetable oil, it will be luminous and ready for the kitchen. Plus, you'll be able to pass the pan on to your children and grandchildren.

Do I cook with it?  Absolutely.  I added it to my wonderful 12 inch family heirloom that's been cooking up Hoosier food for nearly a hundred years, and my little 7 inch garage sale find.  Besides being an ideal heat conductor, cast iron cookware heats evenly and consistently, it is inexpensive and will last a lifetime (actually several lifetimes).  I love that it goes from stove to oven, no special utensils are needed to cook in it, it won't warp, and cleanup is a cinch. A well-seasoned cast iron pan will only get better with age.

Since you can pop them in the oven, try making cobbler, corn bread, and even lasagna in your cast iron. One thing to remember, don't pour cold liquid into a hot skillet, or it will crack.  Allow it to come to room temperature before adding water.

my Wagner Ware Sidney #8

Trust thyself: every heart vibrates to that iron string.

Ralph Waldo Emerson

BVDs

In hot weather, all tight fitting underwear 

is sticky and disagreeable.

--BVD ad, 1906

1906 ad--click to embiggen

I'm not looking forward to summer in the Midwest and having to give up my woolly socks. Last week on a Turner Classic Movies flick, there was mention of BVDs, referring to men's underwear, which sparked a conversation about the origins of the term.

After a trip down Google lane, I found BVD stands for the New York firm, Bradley, Voorhees & Day that initially manufactured underwear for both men and women beginning in 1876. The term "BVDs" has become, over time, a genericized trademark in reference to underwear of any brand.

Wondering about skivvies?  It's 1932, nautical slang, meaning underwear, of unknown origin. An earlier skivvy/skivey was London slang for "female domestic servant", 1902.

When we were raising a family, girls were in the minority at the manor, outnumbered by guys three to two, so men's underwear dominated the laundry. Somewhere along the line, in the late 80s, the boys switched from their G.I. Joe print "whitey tighties" to boxers. The youngest, still in college, has a truck load of boxers, enough to last six to eight weeks, until he comes home for a weekend and the manor is transformed into a Chinese laundry.

vintage corset and my 1950s mod vase

Speaking of tight fitting, BVD was the first to manufacture bustles for women. Dom mentioned yesterday that my mod vase looked like a feminine waistline in a 1950s basque or corset. Lovely?  Yes, but also a bit sticky and disagreeable. Thank goodness girdles and pantyhose are also things of the past. What are your undies of choice? Tighties? Thongs?

keeping company with art

my mod 1950s vase

My daughter was in from New York this past weekend. One of our favorite traditions is to dig for buried treasure in the Heart of Ohio Antique Center. It's the largest in the Midwest with over 650 dealers and takes a good four hours or so to walk through, even at a quick pace. So Saturday, we hopped aboard the old green Land Rover, accompanied by gorgeous N.C. Wyeth skies.

One of my finds, was a mod little 7 1/2 inch vase. It was stamped UE Sweden on the bottom with a serial number and initials:  a juicy story just begging to be investigated.  Did I comply? Of course I did.

Mari Simmulson Swedish Modern tray
(I love her quirky  Picassoesque style.
Note the chignon.)

Mari Simmulson tray

My sleuthing turned up some fun results.  The "UE" stands for Upsala-Ekeby, founded at the turn of the 20th Century in Uppsala Sweden. The company produced artistic ceramics from 1920 until 1973 when it was sold and subsequently closed down. Several important Swedish Modern artists worked at Upsala-Ekeby including Mari Simmulson, Anna-Lisa Thomson, Ingrid Atterberg, and Vicke Lindstrand.

Mari Simmulson

The initials "MS" on my piece stand for Mari Simmulson, a potter and artist, born 1911 in St. Petersburg, Russia. Educated in Tallin and Munich, she started her career at AB Gustavsbergs Fabriker in 1945. Between 1949 and 1972 she worked at Upsala-Ekeby and became a Swedish citizen in 1952.

An extremely creative artist, her work has been featured in public art displays in Sweden and Copenhagen and is represented in museum collections all throughout Europe.

My little Mari Simmulson 1950s vase?  An exact match is online for $200. I paid $14 and consider it a great investment in keeping company with art.

Mari Simmulson owls

manor mystery sol-ved

Margit Pogany, self-portrait

It turns out, after some investigation, my creamy egg-like alien bust is that of Margit Pogany, a Hungarian art student. The famed Romanian sculptor, Constantin Brancusi, met her in Paris in 1910 and was his inspiration for his "Mademoiselle Pogany" series.

Over the course of 23 years, he constructed numerous versions of the sculpture, of which he is most famous.

My Scott Antique Market find is a 1961 plaster copy of  Brancusi's Mademoiselle Pogany III.

Constantin Brancusi, (1876-1957) was a central figure of the modern movement and a pioneer of abstraction. His sculpture is noted for its visual elegance and sensitive use of materials. Combining the directness of peasant carving with the sophistication of the Parisian avant-garde, he developed his own unique style by simplifying objects into the geometrical and sparse, for which he gained world-wide fame.

So, there you have it, my friends. Another Willow Manor mystery solved.

bronze Mademoiselle Pogany III, 1912 and my plaster Mademoiselle Pogany, 1961

alien meets picasso

You've most likely been losing sleep, tossing and turning, wondering what item I found on my weekly thrift trip.  Actually, this past weekend was the last Scott Antique Show of the season, which is bittersweet, since there won't be another one until the weekend after Thanksgiving, but being the last day, vendors are ready to bargain.

I used my dickering skills, with a bit of extra charm, to land a great deal on this fabulous creamy mod head, with perfect patina, dated 1961, from Ray Mongenas, of Mongenas Antiques, Loveland, Ohio. Funny, his location is on Hanna Avenue, Hanna being my maiden name. He told me the fascinating story, how he found the head while picking at an old house in Cincinnati. Anyway, she's ultra quirky, very "alien meets Picasso".  

Her most delicious feature is her low chignon.  If you remember, I was all about the chignon last week.  Was I remembering the future? These synchronicities seem to come in groups of three for me.  I'll be watching for Chignon No. 3. Maybe this subject deserves a poem. I think it might.

Happiness is when what you think, 

what you say, and what you do 

are in harmony.

 Mahatma Gandhi