stumbling over jewels
Incorporating old found objects in my work means justification for regular browsing of markets, boot sales, ebay, and charity shops. Now I have a good excuse to buy the things that always caught my eye before but couldn’t really justify, because there is not much excuse for having a rusty antique sewing machine when you can’t sew, or a beautiful but broken gramophone (both of which I know own by the way).
Its like being a child and hunting for treasure. I remember having boxes to hoard my precious finds in, as I’m sure is true for most children. A particularly smooth and shiny pebble, a swimming medal that my dad won that he gave me, pretty feathers (although I never did get that magical peacock feather I longed for so much), and, perhaps less romantically, one of my milk teeth.
At the beginning of June I’m going on holiday to France and one of the things I’m most excited about is hunting down some little flea markets and having long, delicious hours browsing French treasures in the sun. But in the meantime the English charity shops are not so bad. Today’s best treasure was a gorgeous old book of translated French verse dated 1895.