family heirloom

Blue

Posted by

0

Pam’s Pictorama Post: One of the facts of living in a small space is that you routinely have to make decisions about what you can and cannot acquire or keep. Since I have lived my entire adult life in studio apartments, this is pretty much just the way it is. The very existence of this blog, chock-a-block full of toys and other precious detritus, proves that I have never wanted for stuff, but despite that decisions are constantly required. A few years back I wrote a post bemoaning some rather large items that had crossed my path which I was unable to provide a home for, much to my chagrin. (That post, Close Quarters can be found here.)

Most disappointingly, living in a small space meant that when my grandmother and then my parents, were moving to smaller quarters I was not able to absorb more of the familiar and treasured items as I might have otherwise. You could, probably rightly, argue that I saved myself a lot of trouble by not accumulating more things than I would ultimately be able to use. In particular though, I smart a bit over the cuckoo clock that I loved as a child which I considered taking. The reality of it was that it was much larger than I remembered and also had the potential for being quite loud. Sort of anathema for a tiny space.

Instead, I gathered a smattering of items. I have already written about a glass made of red and white spatterware that used to sit in my grandmother’s kitchen and was beloved by the entire extended family.  (That post Ann’s Glass can be found here.) Unlike that glass, some of the items that turned up were not ones I was familiar with from my childhood in her house. Among those was a small set of these glasses.

I assume these were meant for cordials of some kind as they are fairly tiny. The color would have been irresistible for my grandmother who loved all things blue. I wish I knew the story behind her acquiring them because I can barely remember her consuming a glass of wine. I can only imagine they were from a long ago time when the family might have gathered and a variety of drinks served. Or perhaps they were just too pretty to resist, although frankly that was not her style – things were practical and got used.

Cinzano? Vermouth? The former seems possible for that Italian side of the family, the latter less so. These were not sophisticated, nor even regular drinkers. Sherry? Perhaps. Somehow I had reached a ripe adulthood before an elderly friend gave me a bottle of Tio Pepe sherry, her favorite.

The first time I ever had sherry was at her house. It is, in my opinion, an acquired taste but it did grow on me. And, upon the receipt of that bottle I decided that this was an ideal use, as such, for these glasses. However, following largely in the footsteps of my ancestors, I am not a regular drinker and therefore these glasses languish a bit in my cabinet, as does the sherry. However, just to see them each time I open the cupboard gives me pleasure and although it vaguely violates my use it or lose it philosophy around dishes. They are exempt.

Trophies

Posted by

2

Pam’s Pictorama Post: Fair warning, you Pictorama readers who have followed these posts for a bit know that occasionally I fall out of my self-designated lane of discussing toys, photos, early Felix and black cat items, and instead head down a tributary which is another which is purely personal. That’s what we have today. I wrote this a few days after Thanksgiving, although I am sending it from Arkansas where I have been on business this week. I am posting it as we start the inevitable countdown to Christmas and New Year holidays. All around, it is a time when family is at the front of mind and this post has been scratching at my brain for awhile.

Some of you who follow me on other social media have been privy to bits about of my parents selling the house I grew up in New Jersey, moving first to a house they rented (briefly) and finally into an adorable, little house in a town adjacent to the area I grew up in. As someone who tends to put emotional currency in objects that exercise was especially difficult at times. Many items were lost or damaged making me crazy – although I guess others were found or discovered too. Ultimately, I focused on just a few items and attempted to ensure those survived the tousle of moving. Among the items were my sister Loren’s (oddly fragile) rugby trophies from her undergraduate years at Princeton. My sister, who died in 2003, had her share of awards – she was a PhD in mathematics and had a pile of academics achievements, some of which are memorialized in plaques and certificates that decorated the walls of my parent’s house. Perhaps some of those were more important to her than these which resided in her old bedroom at my parent’s house, on display on the dresser there but these are what I held onto.

Loren played rugby during her undergraduate years at Princeton. Very athletic all her life, she was full of restless energy and it was often said among us in the family that if she didn’t do at least two different work-outs a day she would drive you nuts – swimming and biking, running and lifting, tennis and so on. My mother says that from the time Loren was old enough to get herself out of bed she would roam the house at night, a reality my mother evidently learned to put up with early on or she never would have slept again herself. An older Loren would practice her violin way into the night each evening and we all became accustomed to being lulled to sleep that way. (I on the other hand was the family sleep champion and evidently slept through the night the first day my mother brought me home from the hospital – prompting her to wake in a panic thinking I must have died, or so the story goes.)

Captain of her cross country team in high school and involved in as many sports and teams as the schedule of each season would allow, rugby was new to Loren when she arrived at Princeton, but she took to it quickly. If I knew how she landed on rugby, I don’t remember now. Her academic schedule was very rigorous though and perhaps the schedule was one that suited her.

I believe that it was during my senior year in high school, her sophomore year, that I visited her and spent the weekend. I went to my first and only rugby game – and loved it! It was fast paced, bloody and muddy as I remember it. Loren was a good size and very muscular, but her co-captains and some of the women from the other team dwarfed her much to my surprise. She held her own on the field though and I cheered her on in scrums. There was robust drinking by both teams after the game, which I believe Princeton won. As for me, I got an advance taste of collegiate life. I was under no illusion that I would or could follow her to Princeton. I was never as academically gifted as she, but nonetheless the visit gave me a taste of anticipation for college life as I applied to schools and mapped my own future.

So a few months ago, out of everything I took out of my parent’s house and secured the safety of, I took these two rugby trophies to a friend’s house for the duration of the move. I have yet to install them in the room now designated for Kim and I when we visit, but when I do it will feel more like a second home to me too I think.

 

Flying High

Posted by

0

Pam’s Pictorama Photo Post: Quite frankly, I saw those plates on the wall with the airplanes and kept being drawn back to this photo which I ultimately purchased, uncontested, on eBay recently. There is no writing on it and I am a fan of the mid-century ruffled border of the photo. While there is no particular reason to believe that the event these women are anticipating has anything to do with the airplane plates, I keep going back to them and wondering – fascinated by the way they are strung precisely across the top part of this room. I love collecting and enjoy seeing documentation of other people’s evidence of it. This is a nice example. I like the idea that someone collected these plates and then decorated this room with them. Splendid.

I did some quick research and I was unable to find these actual plates – the plates in the photo have a distinct horizon line and simplicity which I cannot find in another set. Similar plates were (or are) made by several different, mostly British, companies. UK eBay is full of variations, but the Davenport Wings of Fame plate series is the one that comes up first and most. I share those below, each with a month of the year.

s-l1600-7.jpg

My favorite is March’s Rescue at Sea. (They evidently have names, perhaps on the back?)

shopping.jpg

I like the plates on the wall of this photo better than these, which in all fairness appear to be slightly cheesier. There are seven on the wall in the photo and it does beg the question of if they are an earlier version of this plate of the month series. There would in theory be more or less just enough to go around this room.

This smallish table somehow manages to have eight place settings on it which seems ambitious – although I think I have had six people eat around our flat files so I guess one can do anything if a bit creative. There is a general festive sense about the scene, and it is easy to assume that it is documenting the anticipation of a happy occasion. The Siamese cat, who seems to have a grouch on, is the only exception to an otherwise jolly scene, but we know how cats can be – you can’t judge general ambiance by them. The two women are attractive and seems to be genuinely happy, not just smiling for the camera, and who (besides kitty) can blame the one for scooping up puss for posterity in the photo? From the clothes, make up and general look I would put this photo in the late forties or early fifties. My guess is that it was indeed a lovely day.

 

Seattle, Washington, August 20, 1942

Posted by

1

page 2

Pams-Pictorama.com collection

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

Pam’s Pictorama Photo Post: The post office delivered yesterday and we at Pictorama are back on board writing about these two wonderful photo album pages purchased recently. Kim and I are often opining about how sad it is to see albums being broken up – single photos torn out and sold, or even pages like these taken from an album. Still, I purchased these pages while weighing whether or not to purchase an entire album of photos from someone else. They were asking a sizable amount and without being able to see the full album online it seemed dubious and in the end I did not bid – so perhaps selling them whole is indeed a problem. Still, these beauties beg the question of what the full album looked like – was it all illustrated like this? Sad to think of the pages scattered and the family story never coming back together to be told again.

The dated page has the better photos of the two in my opinion. I love the one of the three women all holding cats. Their Seattle yard is very lush – a leafy paradise really, with the sun pouring in behind them. The cats appear to be wriggling to varying degrees in their photo pose holds here. Big white kitty resembles the platinum blonde holding him or her, but the woman with the hat and gloves is my favorite – so proper yet cat friendly. (That dark outfit was covered in white hair when they were done.) Above that photo is sort of a candid one of a group of romping cats and kittens, also tucked away among more greenery. Same white kitty, but this time holding court among the kits it seems – perhaps the mom cat I now think? Looks like an adorable group kicking capering around and enjoying themselves. In the final photo on this page, white kitty continues to be the focus convincing me she is Mom, this time with just two kits. The white paint illustrations are good – swiped poses perhaps? Great animated tummy pose – Cookie assumes this one frequently.

The second page has Watkins’ Home for Strays on the sign next to this hobo-come-Puss ‘n Boots kitty drawing, complete with bindle tossed over his shoulder, fluffy tailed. There’s something a tad wonky about the direction of one of the booted paw feet, but it is a spirited and ambitious illustration. Sadly, there is a photo missing from the lower left of this page – only the black corner holders remain indicating where the bottom of that photo was held. The prize on this page is white kitty and a black cat atop a bird cage. I believe there is a bird in the cage (bottom left – unfortunate birdie which must have been very stressed indeed) and these two pusses are intensely interested. The photo at the top shows the three matching kittens, one sporting a bow this time. It is a poor photo, but shows off these fine youngster kitties for one more view.

The Watkins documented themselves in a highly decorative fashion as a very cat friendly family. Therefore ultimately, where better for these stray pages to find a home than my cat photo collection?

I Digress

Posted by

0

 

Art Smith earrings

Art Smith earrings

Pam’s Pictorama: Many years ago, my mother gave me these silver earrings. I don’t have pierced ears and therefore I don’t wear earring frequently, however for a number of years these earrings represented dressed up for me. I don’t remember my mother ever wearing them – she is not, never has been, a wearer of jewelry. I must have inherited my desire to drape myself in precious metals and gem stones from my paternal grandmother (Gertie Butler, as mentioned in my recent post Irving, Gertie and Elliott) because I have no memory of my mother wearing more than her wedding ring with only a few notable exceptions.

Recently while cleaning out some closets and shelves at the ancestral home we uncovered a jewelry box, and one of the things it contained was this interesting silver necklace which matches the earrings. It is one the few pieces of jewelry I remember her wearing although I had not seen it in decades. In the process of cleaning it I realized it was signed by the maker, Art Smith. On a whim I googled the name.

Turns out the Brooklyn Museum had a retrospective of his jewelry in 2011. His partner, Charles Russell, left the museum 21 pieces of jewelry and archival material including his tools, period photographs of models wearing the jewelry, and sketches. According to the site, The Brooklyn born Smith was known for pieces that were occasionally over-sized in scale, but wearable and featured semi-precious stones set in silver and gold.

Trained at Cooper Union, they offer that he was a supporter of black and gay civil rights. He opened his first store on Cornelia Street in the West Village in 1946. It is easy for me to imagine my parents wandering into his store, circa the early 1960’s, and picking out the necklace and earrings for my mother.

I cleaned them lightly (fearfully!) and wore them recently to the opening of the Met’s new location,  The Met Breuer, a building which is celebrating it’s fiftieth year as it enters its latest incarnation as a Met outpost. So here’s a small salute to New York of the 1960’s, and most of all to my mother, who has excellent taste even if she doesn’t often wear jewelry.