The wife is normally the one who occasionally surfs through cable channels showing antique shows dramatizing the valuation processes of items presented during the show. And it is typically during the segment when the valuation amount ranges are explicated titillatingly by the experts that the suspended curiosity index of the onlookers heats up and jumps off the scales. The usual revelation that certain things looking so inconsequential, or old looking, or maybe even showing extensive wear and tear, are valued so much as to be out of the realm of normative reality. And getting the gaping audiences frenetically thinking down the road whether there might be somewhere in their own possessions similar items that would approximate such values. Things maybe grandma or some distant eccentric uncle did not want thrown away while they were living and then stowed away and forgotten after they had gone.
But, wake up, isn’t that the very nature of the world of antiques, where values are determined not so much intrinsically, or through functionality, but mainly because of rarity or at times, arising from some silly cravings of certain individuals with oodles of money to pursue their whims? Or maybe because of the more predictable gauges of the economic law of supply and demand? That is, value is pegged on a calculated estimation of how a very finite group of moneyed collectors would be willing to pay to acquire such as treasure or novelty, and, silly me, how much a seller would be willing to part with his junk.
I believe, by and large, that’s how antiques change hands, from owner to collector, or from one collector to another collector, rather than through some complicated mathematical and/or scientific processes applied.
Of course, a lot also depends on the specific item that is being valued. If it is a universally desirable and a very rare kind of item in this finite universe, then its value will depend largely on how much an interested group with financial resources would be willing to part in order to acquire that item. Regardless of every other measure that some exalted experts may deign to apply to it.
In some contextual regard and on a personal note, I suffer from an inveterate proclivity not to throw stuff if I can find a place to hoard or stow it. Thus, unless time, Mother Nature and its elements do the disposing, I tend to keep with longevity things till they get to be too old for any use, or they may have taken on the qualities of being antiques or collectibles. And this could be an advantage, or simply an untold burden to people living with me.
Anyway, some years back, a dear old friend of the wife who was in her 90’s died and bequeathed to us some old furniture and fixtures in her home after the wife had expressed on occasion admiration and beauty in what she saw. Though she was Irish and grew up somewhere in Montana, she had gone west and ultimately married somebody who came from an old Italian family in San Francisco. She had only one son who was only too willing to dispose of the furniture from her house where she lived alone.
The meticulous old lady had taken special care of the old furniture that she said was brought by her husband’s family from Italy.
So we are now the proud owners of these old furniture and fixtures and are displaying them at home. Though at the back of our minds, we continue to entertain this rather itchy impulse that maybe these items are worth more than what most of us would typically think. If only we could have somebody who knows take a look.
Though outwardly we are very happy that we have them and enjoy their looks and functionality and adequately thankful to both the old lady and her son for the generous gesture. We do like to include in visitors’ queries about them a bit of friendly reminders about their past history.
3 comments:
One man's junk is another's antique.
The furniture that I was truly fond of were those made by Gustav Stickley during the turn of the century. They were actually copies of simplistic but functional pieces referred to as "mission furniture" which reflect the austerity of the monks who originally created them in the San Francisco area.
Anyway, whenever Christie's had an open exhibition prior to an auction of such collection, I'd always make it a point to stop by and just look at them. Incredibly, the prices of which keep going up, which explains why I never owned a single Stickley piece.
You're quite fortunate to have received such interesting pieces. You never know, they may be worth more than realized. I'd start by investigating their provenance -- manufacturer, exact town in Italy, and etc.
Eric:
When we first got here in San Francisco, it was quite easy to purchase old furniture, fixtures, and even art work - from garage sales, estate sales, and the thrift stores located in affluent neighborhoods. But when the IT boom started being felt, the major auction houses, Christie’s, Sotheby’s, and Butterfield, got very busy and I suppose people started paying more attention to old stuff they were simply carting off to those thrift stores. And then of course, eBay came along and even bought Butterfield here in SF.
Nowadays, one can hardly find good genuine antiques from all those sources. But I’m sure they are still out there if one has the patience and persistence.
About a decade ago, read about a guy who got lucky. Bought an old chest purportedly from a long-gone theatre in San Francisco, from some garage sale. Turned out it was a trunkful of personally autographed pictures, playbills, etc. of actors who performed in the theatre. I believed one was that of Enrico Caruso.
Have not followed how much money the guy eventually made disposing of those collectibles.
I did buy about a dozen volumes (long playing vinyl records, 33s) of golden oldies circa 50’s for 50c a piece. Hopefully, it could amount to something.
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