OF COURSE WE SHOULD HAVE KNOWN BETTER - BUT!
ANTIQUE AND COLLECTABLE DEALERS SCREW-UP TOO
AS A PREAMBLE TO THIS BLOG, SUZANNE, IF ASKED, WHAT FICTIONAL CHARACTER FROM TELEVISION, THAT I PARALLEL IN ALMOST EVERY WAY, SHE WOULDN'T HESITATE CALLING ME A MORTAL-MERGER BETWEEN "HOME IMPROVEMENT'S" TIM "THE TOOL MAN" TAYLOR, AND "MR. BEAN." SERIOUSLY. THE STORY BELOW, SHOULD EXPLAIN THIS BLUNT BUT HONEST CHARACTERIZATION.
I PURCHASED A REALLY NICE ORIGINAL PAINTING, OF A CANADIAN FARMSTEAD, CIRCA 1860'S, AT A MUSKOKA REGION AUCTION. IT WASN'T SIGNED BUT IT SURE WAS PRETTY. WELL, AT FIRST GLANCE, IT LOOKED GRUBBY, AS IT APPEARED TO HAVE NEVER BEEN CLEANED. IT WAS OBVIOUS TO ME, THAT IT HAD HUNG NEAR A WOOD STOVER OF FIREPLACE. THE PLASTER FRAME WAS IN PRETTY GOOD SHAPE, BUT THE CANVAS HAD SOME SMALL TEARS THAT WOULD HAVE TO BE SECURED, TO AVOID INCREASING IN SIZE. I ASKED SUZANNE IF SHE COULD PREPARE A VINEGAR AND WATER SOLUTION, IN A SPRAY BOTTLE, SO THAT I COULD BEGIN THE SLOW PROCESS OF LOOSENING THE SOOT AND GUNK THAT HAD BUILT-UP ON THE PAINT SURFACE. I'VE CLEANED A LOT OF PAINTINGS, BY SPRAYING ON THIS AGE-OLD CLEANING SOLUTION, AND THEN DABBING THE SURFACE, INCH BY INCH, WITH PAPER TOWEL (NOT RUBBING). I MIGHT HAVE TO DO THIS THREE OR FOUR TIMES OVER SEVERAL DAYS TO GET THE MAJORITY OF DIRT AND STUFF OFF THE PAINT. IT IS A SLOW PROCESS BUT IF YOU HURRY, CHANCES ARE YOU'LL CAUSE DAMAGE TO THE IMAGE. I'M NOT PARTICULARLY PATIENT, EXCEPT WHILE WORKING ON PAINTINGS, WHICH I ALSO COLLECT.
I PICKED UP SOME PROCEDURAL, SAFE-HANDLING TIPS FOR CLEANING, FROM A PICTURE FRAMER, (I WAS ONCE ASSOCIATED), WHO ALSO DABBLED IN RESTORATION. WHEN FOR EXAMPLE, SHE HAD INSURANCE WORK-ORDERS FOR PAINTINGS, THAT HAD BEEN SOOT COVERED IN HOUSE AND BUILDING FIRES. THE FIRST TIP, OBVIOUSLY, WAS TO ALWAYS CHECK FOR CLEANER COMPATIBILITY WITH THE SUBJECT PAINT SURFACE. SHE WOULD DO A TEST ON A SMALL AREA OF THE PAINTING INITIALLY, TO MAKE ABSOLUTELY SURE THE CLEANING SOLUTION WASN'T GOING TO CAUSE ANY SURFACE DAMAGE, DURING THE FULL CLEANING. IF SHE GOT COLOR ON THE PAPER TOWEL, THE WORK WAS IMMEDIATELY HALTED. WE ALL KNOW THIS, BECAUSE AT ONE POINT OR ANOTHER, (CHANCES ARE) WE HAD A BAD EXPERIENCE WITH CLEANING A SIMILAR SURFACE. I USED TO MANAGE A MUSEUM AND THE RULE WAS, AS I'M SURE IT STILL IS, A DIRT-COVERED PAINTING SHOULD BE SENT TO AN ART RESTORER FOR PROPER CONSERVATION. IT MAY BE THE CASE THAT THEY USE MOIST BREAD CRUMBS TO ROLL OVER THE PAINT SURFACE…..I DON'T KNOW. OTHER THAN FOR MOST ANTIQUE DEALERS, WITH A PAINTING THAT ISN'T WORTH A FORTUNE, SENDING IT AWAY FOR CONSERVATION CAN BE COSTLY. WE'RE CONCERNED ABOUT OUR INVESTMENT, SO WE DO PRACTICE CONSIDERABLE CAUTION, WHEN ATTEMPTING THESE CLEANING EXERCISES ON OUR OWN. BELIEVE ME, WE KNOW THE DOWN-SIDE OF MAKING A GAFF. AND WE'VE ALL MADE A FEW.
SUZANNE SET ME UP OUTSIDE, AT BIRCH HOLLOW, WITH THE VINEGAR AND WATER, AT WEAK STRENGTH, FOR THE SURFACE OF THE PAINTING, WHICH I HAD REMOVED FROM THE HEAVY FRAME. FOR THE FRAME ITSELF, WHICH WAS HUGELY CAKED IN THE DUST OF AGES, SUZANNE GOT ME A SPRAY BOTTLE OF EXTRA STRENGTH CLEANER. MOST OF THE TIME THERE IS NEVER A PROBLEM ON SUCH A HIGH GLOSS SURFACE. SO I WAS WORKING AWAY, LISTENING TO THE KIDS PLAYING IN THE YARD, THE DOG BARKING AT A CHIPMUNK, AND TRYING TO KEEP PACE WITH SUZANNE'S CONVERSATION ABOUT THE REPAIRS ON AN OLD QUILT, SHE WAS WORKING ON AT THE SAME TIME. I THINK I WAS DISTRACTED WHEN NEIGHBORS, WHO WERE WALKING BY, STOPPED FOR A LITTLE CHAT, AND I JUST LOST MY CONCENTRATION FOR A FEW MOMENTS. I BET YOU KNOW WHERE THIS IS GOING.
SO I KEPT SPRAYING AND DABBING AT THE PAINTING. IT WAS A FEW MINUTES INTO THE TASK, AFTER THE MOMENTARY DISTRACTION WITH THE NEIGHBORS, THAT THE SKY IN THE PAINTING LOOKED A LITTLE LESS DARK AND THREATENING. FROM THE WAY I HAD IT TILTED UP, THE DARK SKY WAS DEFINITELY SAGGING INTO THE SNOW-LADEN EVERGREENS, DEPICTING ON THE HILLSIDE OF THE LANDSCAPE. ON THE FAR HILLSIDE THE WEATHER WAS TURNING. AT FIRST I THOUGHT IT WAS JUST MORE OF THE SOOT LETTING GO. BUT THE MORE I DABBED TO GET RID OF TOO MUCH OF THE LIQUID, THE MORE IT BECAME OBVIOUS, THE PAINT WAS TURNING INTO LIQUID IN FRONT OF MY EYES. MY GOD, I HAD USED THE POWERFUL CLEANER SPRAY BOTTLE, INSTEAD OF THE VINEGAR AND WATER. THE COMBINATION OF THE VINEGAR, ALREADY ON THE PAINT SURFACE, AND THE CLEANER, ALLIED TO LIQUIFY MY BEAUTIFUL PAINTING. I STARTED TO SCREAM, SUZANNE PRICKED HER FINGER WITH A NEEDLE, THE KIDS THOUGHT DAD WAS HAVING A HEART ATTACK, AND EVEN THE NEIGHBORS LOOKED BACK TO SEE WHAT ALL THE FUSS WAS ABOUT. I WAS BLURTING CUSS WORDS LIKE A LOGGER WHO JUST DROPPED A PLATE OF FLAPJACKS.
I ASKED SUZANNE TO GET ME A CONTAINER OF WATER, (SHE USED A SMALL AMOUNT OF BOTTLED WATER SHE'D BEEN DRINKING) TO RINSE OFF THE SURFACE OF THE PAINTING AS FAST AS POSSIBLE. NOTHING COULD HAVE BEEN FAST ENOUGH, LET ME TELL YOU. SO HERE WAS AN ANTIQUE DEALER, AND ART LOVER, WHO WITH A LOT OF EXPERIENCE, INCLUDING MY STINT AS MUSEUM DIRECTOR AND MANAGER, WHO JUST KILLED ONE OF THE BEST PAINTINGS I HAD EVER OWNED. TALK ABOUT FEELING LIKE A TOOL. I FELT LIKE A LEGION OF TOOLS, IN THOSE NERVOUS MOMENTS, TRYING TO STOP THE DAMAGE, BY DOUSING THE CANVAS WITH LOTS OF WATER…..WHICH WAS ALSO NOT THE BEST THING TO DO; BUT THE ONLY OPTION I COULD THINK OF IN THOSE FIRST MOMENTS OF SPIRALING DISASTER, UNFOLDING ON MY FRONT DECK……WITH AN AUDIENCE. THERE'S NOTHING SO HUMBLING TO A BIG SHOT ANTIQUE COLUMNIST, DEALER, COLLECTOR, THAN BOTCHING A RESTORATION JOB, THAT SHOULD HAVE GONE SO SMOOTHLY.
FORTUNATELY FOR MY PAINTING, I WAS ABLE TO NEUTRALIZE THE CLEANING AGENT QUICKLY ENOUGH, THAT THE ONLY SIGNIFICANT DAMAGE, WAS CONFINED TO THE SKY…..WHICH HAS TAKEN ON A RATHER MISTY SPOOKY APPEARANCE OVER TIME. THIS ISN'T TOO BAD, BUT THERE IS A DEFINABLE LINE THAT RUNS VERTICAL, THROUGH THE CLOUDS, SHOWING THE SIDE THAT WAS HIT BY THE CLEANER, OPPOSITE WHAT THE ARTIST HAD ACTUALLY INTENDED OF HIS WINTER SKY. SUZANNE BEING A FORMER HOME ECONOMICS TEACHER, IS ALWAYS ADVISING ME ON THE SAFE DISPENSING OF CLEANERS, WORRYING THAT ONE DAY I MIGHT DO SOMETHING SIMILAR, OR BLOW MYSELF UP. WHENEVER SHE HEARS A CRASH AROUND THE OLD HOMESTEAD, SHE GRABS UP THE MEDICAL KIT AND COMES RUNNING.
WE DON'T LIKE ADMITTING OUR ERRORS IN JUDGEMENT……BUT SOMETIMES, TO A SPOUSE, WE HAVE NO CHOICE BUT TO OWN UP
I have at least five to seven years more experience in the antique trade than my dear wife. When we get into spats about items, one or the other wishes to purchase, she lets me know about her background collecting Fenton glass, for example. I remind her that I began antique hunting and gathering before I was twenty. Then I ask what expertise in Fenton glass, has to do with buying a pine pie safe? "Just for argument's sake," she will admit. "I know it bugs you!" Over our years together, doing this antique thing, we have experienced lots of disaster buying, and mostly, it is the result of poor inspection. Suzanne blames poor lighting in the shops we visit. She'd blame an overcast morning, if it was an outdoor event, and she came home with a chipped or cracked Shelly cup and saucer. I used to come home with quilts, purchased at auctions, that were in such poor shape, Suzanne could disintegrate patches with a slight rubbing of the fabric. It's quite something to be told, the powder on the tile floor, is the result of "fabric rot," on a quilt I was so proud to haul home.
I was at an auction in Baysville, for a longtime cottager, and decided to buy a gift for my bride….stuck at home that day. This was back in the early 1990's. I bought Suzanne a beautiful Victorian china tea pot as a gift for our new house on Golden Beach Road in Bracebridge. I'd enjoyed a pretty good day at the sale, and came up with some decent pieces for our shop. The teapot was in re-payment for letting me go to these day long sales in the first place. It usually left her with two wee lads to contend with, in addition to the shop in our garage. On this day, I had both boys with me, which made it all an incredible challenge, and yet an ultimate success story…..as I arrived home with the teapot in one piece. It was a very elaborate but delicate china pot, and a lot could go wrong for Mr. Bean and his children with treasures like this in tow.
Do you know something, I really liked that teapot. Maybe more than Suzanne, who is always reserved in her display of enthusiasm. Happy but never ecstatic….which is what I always hope I'm going to get when I arrive home with a treat like this. The reason I point out my keen interest in this teapot, is that it just might explain why I kept moving it around, from shelf to china cupboard, back to a better shelf, so that it would look great when dinner guests arrived. "Why yes," I would say to inquiring visitors. "I purchased this teapot, formerly owned by the Royal Family, as a show of affection for my darling wife!" If she reads this I'm dead. I found a perfect counter location with an overhead light. It was a counter dividing the family room, and the main floor utility area where our washing machine was situated. I liked the way the light shone down on this little gem of historic china. Suzanne told me, that it was in a place where the boys could hit it, while playing indoor hockey, and then there was the cat, Fester The First, that liked to jump on the counter to short-cut its way, into the other part of the room. Like Bean and Tim Taylor, I stuck to my guns, guaranteed her it would be okay, and admired that teapot as if it was the holy grail. Suzanne had already heard the story of how I had been able to outbid two other dealers, who knew how much the piece was worth. And who were envious of my purchase.
So on this particular Saturday morning, while the boys were playing with their toy cars, and I was leaning on this broad, illuminated counter, watching the television, imagine the horror that overtook me, as I swung my coffee cup by the Victorian china, to meet Suzanne arriving with the coffee pot for a refill; and heard a ping and thump…..and having felt a ping and thump, and then seen the handle of this attractive piece, resting on the counter-top, separated from its body. It had survived from the days of Queen Victoria's reign, only to be savaged by a clumsy ass, in central Muskoka, Ontario, Canada. Suzanne had to manually shut her mouth, but she didn't have to say a word, to make me regret having been born. If this was an isolated case, that would be one thing. Unfortunately, it has happened on numerous other occasions, with the accompanying wild tirade of cursing and head slapping. Of course, our home being a haven for stray cats, adopted out of kindness, we have also written-off thousands of dollars in damage to glass and pottery from the ages. I even watched as one of our cats jumped and missed an upper shelf, and caught itself on the canvas of the painting directly below. That was neat and expensive.
I purchased a Victorian era settee, from an auction in Bracebridge, a few years back, and when we were loading it in the car, Suzanne warned that I should be careful of the wasp that had attached itself to the fabric underside. I yelled the warning to son Andrew, who was on the other end. He immediately set his end down on the driveway, while I was holding my end up. The bang and vibration didn't appeal to the hive of wasps located just out of sight, through a small hole in the cloth covering. I had just enough time, like the Coyote, after accepting a package of dynamite from the Roadrunner, to utter the words, "Oh crap……." It was my all time best. I survived at least nine stings that day. I learned about asking questions, before buying……like "where was this settee stored previously?" I figured this had to have been a cursed settee, because the first incident with the piece, occurred when a portly auction-goer, sat on one end, and like a teeter-totter, sent the unweighted end straight up into my knee, while he rolled off onto the tarmac, allowing the heavy furnishing to slam back to earth, landing heavily onto my big toe. I still bought it, and lived to regret it for several days, while covered in special cream to quell the stinging.
Here's the capital "never-do-this," tip of the week, if you're interested in refinishing furniture using chemical paint removers. When we had our shop on Manitoba Street, circa 1977, known then as "Old Mill Antiques," I used to do small scale refinishing in the basement. The shop was on the first floor, and the house was across from Bracebridge's Memorial Park. I didn't have a lot of money to spend back then, but there seemed to be demand for small furnishings. I could buy cheap, and do speedy refinishing. I'd been refinishing furniture for about three years before this, but when we opened the shop, I had to tweak my schedule to get inventory in and out twice as fast…..that is if we wanted to survive in this tough business. I remember working on four iron and brass beds I'd purchased, and for days, I was covered in paint stripper and chips of the former finishes. I had so much paint and stripper residue on my hands, that honestly, it seemed to neutralize any new liquid that splashed on my hands. Either that, or I'd just lost all my sensitivity to the burning of the stripper. I never understood this, but just kept doing the same old, same old.
I remember one day getting a phone call, and rushing to the top of the stairs, (covered in gunk and stripper) and having a heated conversation with someone but I can't recall who it was with. Probably my girlfriend at the time. We used to have lots of arguments. In those days, it was because I had to decline social engagements with her friends, in order to get my backlog of restorations sorted out. I remember sticking to the receiver, and having to play around for a few moments, to release it back onto the phone cradle. Even then, I could see finger imprints in the plastic, from where the chemicals had burned the covering. Now, you'd think this would set off an alarm in the old noggin. Seeing as the next room I was to enter, was the bathroom adjacent to the top of the stairs. Well sir, it wasn't long into my visit, to urinate, that there was smoke coming from down there, and you're absolutely right. I was stuck there, with it, pretty much on fire, and no easy way to dilute the acid burn except jump in the shower and hope I could managed to turn on the tap. I got my hands free, and in pain, I put one hand on my forehead, and the other on my newly exposed hip. This was in the few seconds before the old plumbing, in the old house, kicked in to full gear, and watered down the affected bodily parts. So anyway, I had burned skin on my privates, my hip, my eyelids and forehead. So for the next few weeks, while new skin replaced the old, I got a whole bunch of "antique dealer" jokes directed my way. I still have the marks in case you were wondering. My new policy thereafter, was to wear gloves, and keep water nearby, just in case of splashes and spills of dangerous stripper.
I don't want to make it appear that all antique dealers have a little "Bean" in them, but honestly, if you only knew the insider stories…….you'd be laughing out loud…..for a long, long time. It was good to have you drop by today for a visit. The problem with writing a biographical blog like this, is that it can't help but read as if the author has a melon sized ego strapped onto his shoulders. Truthfully, I have never ranked myself as an antique expert, or a particularly good dealer, because as you read these anecdotes, of my life in the profession, you must know by now, that as far as being a role model…..I'm sub par, and that's okay with me. Even on my modest shelf of accomplishment, I've got a lot of emotional trophies…… a lot of neat memories in the pursuit of evasive antiques and collectables. I love my profession. I enjoy writing about my adventures. And I'm not shy about pointing out my shortfalls as a dealer…….I'm human and accident prone. That said, I've also been a pretty astute observer all these years, and this is what I enjoy sharing with you. It's not all work and profit. We've got some fun and games tucked into the profession, that keeps us true to our calling…..and a little light-hearted about it all. Please visit again for some more stories about this moth eaten old profession……being an antique dealer…..(do you suppose this might make for a new "Bean" movie - "Mr. Bean Opens and Antique Shop."
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