WORKING FOR YOURSELF - TESTING YOUR METTLE AS A COLLECTOR / DEALER - WHERE YOU ARE THE CATALYST OF GOOD FORTUNE OR NOT
IF THE ANTIQUE PROFESSION HAS DONE ANYTHING FOR ME, OTHER THAN OCCUPY MY TIME, IT HAS NURTURED COMPETITION
Seeing as this collection of 2015 blogs, is supposed to be biographical, with a somewhat sensible accounting of chronology, I have the feeling of necessity, to at the same time, address actuality at the same time, as overviewing what has become business history. As I might have made reference to in previous blogs, our retail experience in Muskoka has always been one of those typical feast and famine relationships, that one eventually either succumbs to, or survives and even thrives. I can remember terrible winter seasons, with both our previous main street shops in Bracebridge. There were stretches of three to five days, when we wouldn't see a customer, or clank any coins into the cash box, let alone the soft sound of folding money hitting the rest of the cash neatly arranged inside. It was always discouraging, yet we knew from life-long experience, especially Suzanne, having grown up in Windermere and being part of a season business, that there is a serious downturn in the economy in the off season that can kill even the strongest ventures.
I haven't seen a winter season economy as poor, and widespread, as the past two months. If I didn't know better, I'd say that despite statistics leaning the other way, there is a tip of recessionary economics hatching here, and some of us are getting a little nervous about it becoming a trend for the coming year. It's business in general, and we're all feeling the pinch. We have always insisted on outriggers or what we call our security pods, in order to weather any unusual shift of the economy. This one has shown an ugly side in our town, that is probably scaring many other business owners, praying for the end of what has been a tough, unrelenting winter thus far. I think what concerns us most, is the shortage of townsfolk out and about, and occasionally dropping in to our local shops, if only for a visit. The lethargy is rather startling, but we have heard that our neighbor communities are experiencing a similar downturn. If we hadn't prepared for this winter duldrum well in advance, we might have found ourselves having really big stock reduction sales and thinking about downsizing. Fortunately, we don't work this way, and our first rule, is to never, ever enter a winter season with a deficit of any kind. We would rather do without, and cut a few corners at the end of the old year, than proceed into the new year with a honking big debt.
We don't have any compunction whatsoever, discussing these economic stalemates, especially as far as the antique business goes in a seasonal economy. This current economic dip, should be troubling to otherwise strong year round businesses, yet with rising taxes, substantial hydro and heating costs for a winter that has a lot of vigor left, and the high cost of food and lodging, gosh, I can't say I blame anyone these days, for being a little more frugal than usual. Having run our antique and vintage music businesses through several recessions, and numerous periods of mild economic famine, it is part of the story; as is the part where we pull another rabbit out of the hat, to survive to fight yet another day.
Every year there are municipal initiatives and high, high hopes, about creating a Muskoka economy, that thrives through the four seasons. It's been this hopeful enterprise, that is now seemingly as historic as the region itself. Even immersion in its depression, won't change the way the talking heads brag about each new initiative, as if it has been a message from God, and believe history should reflect positively their respective successes. Except these fix-its don't pan out and never have, and that should be obvious to every retailer in Muskoka. I think personally, the biggest ongoing woe of all, is that still, after all the harping, and all the begging, many citizens still have an issue supporting local commerce; preferring instead, to shop elsewhere. Yet it is ultimately their loss, as significant businesses eventually pull up stakes, because there was little support from their home town. There are some of us oldtimers of local business, who have an appreciation for this, as being by now, almost tradition, versus anything happenstance. Going back generations, there is lots of evidence of locals who shopped anywhere else but in their hometown. Hard to believe? It shouldn't be! While it's up to you where you shop, it's also up to locals to take responsibility, for business failures the result of low hometown support. Sometimes, yup, it's a crappy business plan that kills a business plan. Other times, it's just bad fiscal management. Then there's lack of patron appeal, because of the chosen inventory, and service. Then there's the issue of competition. Sure, there are lots of reasons businesses either succeed or fail. But when a hometown loses any business, at a time when there are still lots of empty storefronts, you have to start being honest about the capability of our town to hold investment. Political posturing, gesturing, and ridiculous propaganda are as hollow as the unrented storefronts. There are likely to be more, if this stalemate in the local economy doesn't change soon.
Our combined family businesses, could not survive in Uptown Gravenhurst, without patrons from well beyond the region, supporting our enterprise, and shopping online with us, and this includes the full twelve months of the year. Not just the summer months, when we expect the influx of tourist dollars. I'm sure other business owners concur, that hometown support is weaker than it should be, and almost impossible, to succeed and profit, without massive outside infusion. Some of us are worried about the future here, and possibly in other cases, of otherwise solid businesses, there's no way of reversing the damage of a long, cold winter, and limited local support. Maybe it's not what the locals want to hear, or in this case read. It doesn't make it any less truthful.
We will be around for a long while, but only because we diversified a long time ago, based entirely on this unfortunate tradition, that has become the true to life legend of the season economy.
Suzanne and I have been business partners since 1985, when we first got the idea, to convert a portion of our Bracebridge house, into a shop to sell our modest collection of antiques. I don't think we had any more than two thousand dollars worth of inventory at the time, and we kept having to host yards sales, in July and August, each year, to make even a modest return on our investment. When we moved to Golden Beach Road, near Bowyer's Beach, some years later, we found the garage a perfect place to set up the little shop, which was pretty rustic, and still only housed a few choice antiques, because that's all we could afford. We never let our economy stop us from operating a business. We were laughed at, harshly critiqued, considered unworthy of inclusion in the antique community, and quite clearly, shunned because of what we didn't have in the way of important pieces. When we finally got a main street shop, we ran into more critiques and more shunning, because we weren't considered serious antique dealers. I suppose, if we had been sensitive to all the negativity, we might well have taken down our shingle, and packed-up the inventory for the trip home. We had good reason to give up. We didn't have a great deal of operating capital, and consignors stuck with the other, bigger, more established dealers in the region. I couldn't blame them at the time, but what I wanted most of all, was their willingness to at least credit us, if we could prove their doubts unfounded. It took years of feeling lesser antique dealers, and you know, I'm still not sure what kept us in the game, if not for our competitive attitude, even as clear underdogs in the retail community. Either we were too stupid to quit, or just got used to being bypassed as serious contenders in the profession. We just decided to let the critics have their sport, and soldier on the best we could, and hope eventual seniority, would be the arrowhead of reconsideration, heralding us finally as part of the antique network in Muskoka.
Gradually we inched our way up the ladder, and because of our strong connection to Muskoka heritage, especially being a regional historian as an alternative career, and with knowledge of local collectables, we soon after, found our niche in the local and even provincial "regional" antique field. We at one time, had one of the largest "for sale" collections of Muskoka related pieces, from the steamboat industry, to local heritage resorts; but it was the paper heritage and regional out of print books in particular, that put us on the map for good, with collectors of local nostalgia. It was a wickedly difficult area to get a foothold, and act responsibly, and in so doing, we pissed-off a lot of other dealers who didn't like us horning in on the action. They probably never got used to our intrusion, but decided after awhile, to move on, and credit the Curries for having penetrated what was seen as a somewhat sewn-up area of collecting. We didn't ask their permission to take on this area of buying and selling, but we knew if we dropped the ball, once we embedded ourselves, that we'd be considered failed antiquers, for ever after. It's not possible that we would admit failure in this regard, because we had contacts with long time families on the Muskoka Lakes, deeper than anything our competitors could rally in their own support. We've nurtured these relationships for many years now, and plan to cultivate deeper connections in the coming years. This proving yourself thing is kind of addictive. I remember an associate antique dealer saying to me once, that the reason we had a successful business, was because I had thrown money at it from all the earnings I'd made from my writing career. I looked at her, and at first, thought she had to be joking, considering there is little money made as a writer for the community press. She had a serious look on her face, having apparently made up her mind, that gumption and a fierce ambition, could have had anything to do with our advancement in the industry. I just turned my back to her, and went about my business, of beating her to the best items at the open air flea market. We never had more than a few bucks every pay cheque to "throw" at our business, and that is fact. But, it was the kind of attitude prevailing amongst some of our competitors, fueled by idiotic statements totally unfounded. If I'd had a whack of money to throw on anything, it would have been to become a strict collector, not having to sell anything just to pay the hydro bill, or municipal taxes.
From as young as seven years of age, I was enrolled, like it or not, in the ranks of organized sports. I don't think my father or mother ever once asked my permission, or my opinion, of being enrolled in Burlington's Minor Hockey program. It just happened. A few years later, they did the same when we moved to the Mountain Gardens neighborhood, of Burlington, and I was signed up for the new "flag" football league, where I played for the team sponsored by Fillman's Smoke Shop, a plaza business situated in a strip mall beside our apartment on upper Brant Street. Here I was hustling points for a shop that flogged "smokes." The same happened when we moved to Bracebridge, in the spring of 1966. I was enrolled in Bracebridge Minor Hockey and Minor Baseball, and it would continue that way right into the 1990's, when the body finally started letting me know, it was time to hang up the skates, ball glove, and satisfy one and all, by throwing the football in the front yard, with sons Andrew and Robert. The point of me writing this little snipit of biographical information, is that it is the number one reason, to this very moment of writing, I still have a vicious competitive perspective on just about everything I get involved. I don't like losing, and within my scope of possibility, I despise getting beat-out by competitors on my level of day to day work; whether writing or hustling antiques and collectables. Suzanne is equally competitive, and in many ways, without having any sports involvement in her background as influence, she likes kicking my arse, when it comes to making the best finds out there on the hustings; or selling more of her found treasures versus the pieces I've hauled back to the shop. Let's just say we're not passive about our profession. We like our recreation time, and love antiques all to pieces, but it is our retirement job, and we insist on it being low-cal as far as taking on too much for our own good. As far as having the competitive edge however, well, that has never dulled for us, and is very much still part of what keeps us interested in antique hunting. I had a junior hockey coach ask me one practice, as I was laying on the ice, constricted by goalie pads, after getting hit with a slapshot in the groin, whether I was puck shy or not. My reply, with a very high voice, started, "Yes, you son of a bitch, I'm f------g puck shy." I had intel you see, that he had instructed sharpshooters to prove this, by trying to hurt me; in order to find out if I was the kind of spunky kid who actually liked rising from the ashes of injury. I quit competitive hockey on that particular day. As for the antique trade, I was the spunky kid, who could get thwacked and come back for more.
Here's the skinny! When I played team sports, my effort, good or bad, was as part of the collective of players, making every attempt to win over our opposition. Job one. Our parents may have thought it was all about "having fun" and "enjoying healthy recreation," but it was the complete opposite. We all knew that in order to fulfill the "fun thing," we had to be the winning team. End of story. We crunched our opposition into the boards, in hockey, hit the ball out of the park in baseball, and in football, we would run through a wall to score a touchdown. We got hurt a lot, trying to beat the opposing team. When we won, it was a team effort. When we lost at hockey, it was my fault, because I was the goalie. Hey, goalies get used to this pressure over time. When I worked for the newspaper, as reporter, then editor, I was told it was a team-effort to win provincial and national awards, and that it was the result of an entire staff's creativity, if our circulation numbers went up that month. Balls to that! When awards were handed out, it was always the manager or publisher standing on the podium, accepting the award. My pay packet never got a bulge in it, because of an award I had helped the newspaper win. I was certainly never singled out, or even mentioned in any acceptance speech, as being the editor who inspired the achievement of excellence in our category. I got used to the big hams being big hams, and just satisfied myself with doing the best I could, and claiming as many bylines as was possible each week, over the three papers we published back in the 1980's. As I was honing my skills in the antique profession, at this time as well, I was thusly able to put the "me" back in the "striving for excellence thing". Bonus! I mean, really! I was able to break free of the "team" effort protocol, to work for myself, and yes, it was very much the case of "sink or swim." As a team, certainly, weakness on any player's part could be compensated for, by the good work of the majority. I just needed to put myself to the test, to see it I was up to such a personal challenge, to be good enough at the antique business without anyone else's effort to fall back on. Hey, it was a brutal trial and error period, and many, many times, I wanted to blame my inefficiencies on the failings of the team. Instead, I had to do the walk-of-shame many times, leaving an auction, having made serious errors in evaluation, and no matter what, there was no fobbing-off responsibility. I was a team of one. I could blame the goalie, but that was me, even in the mirror of the soon-to-be auctioned dresser, showing the dumb ass, who had just purchased a mantle clock without a key and pendulum. I just assumed they would be part of the deal.
Eventually, the team-of-one aspect, of being an independent antique dealer, started to turn my crank, showing me clearly, that while the burden of errors was mine to haul, the successes didn't have to be shared with anyone else. My success or failure was no longer dependent whatsoever, on the performance of my team-mates; my associate writers and layout staff, at the newspaper, who admittedly were talented folks who made our publications look great week after week. Working solo was tough and unforgiving, but it restored my faith in myself, to push beyond what I had to do, in order to be considered a contributing team player. That's the big problem with being part of a team. You sometimes hold back, because you know that success will be shared; thus, why exert yourself when scoring a victory is pretty much a sure thing. This attitude prevailed on me, during the last years of my stay with the local newspaper industry. A friend of mine, told me one day, many years after I'd moved on from the paper, that during this same time, I'd pretty much been wearing a "please fire me" sign around my neck; because I was quarreling with the big mucky-mucks almost daily about even small issues. I know I was peaking in frustration, because management wanted am award winning mechanism, on a slender budget, and I felt, well sir, that all I was getting was the gears. While I wasn't fired, I took advantage of the opportunity to walk out the door, without being ushered that way, and as a matter of fact, employed it a second time, when another publisher told me how "team play" really works. You know, the part about there being no "me" in team. If I didn't say it to his face, I muttered it to myself, walking out the door for the last time. "Bite me!" I had my stake in the antique profession, where "me" was the end-all, and it was the separation between passions, that has led to some amazing reminiscences about a life spent being consumed by antiques, collecting and history in general.
What it all comes down to, is that my ability to ferret out some unique and valuable finds, was unencumbered by any sharing of credits. This may read as being immensely selfish, and stunningly self centred, but for once in my life, I was able to prove my worth as a solo artist. Absolutely a sink or swim situation, and although I had back up, in the early going, with the newspaper business I came eventually to despise, I knew enough about sleuthing for antiques, to pretty much guarantee, enough success to at least keep myself in comfortable quarters, with three square meals a day. And of course, enough money to re-invest, the very next time I was out scrounging once again. I didn't have amazing success. I don't even claim this today, after four decades in the business. But to me, what was amazing, had everything to do with how I was, and have been able to compete, in one of the most storied, and aggressive, (cut throat some would say) professions in the world, and survive quite happily with modest profits. I loved the challenges the profession has afforded me, allowing the kind of personal freedom I could never have had being the team player, with the newspaper; or even as an author, being tithed by contract to a publisher, with a lot of other writers expected to perform like dancing bears for their pay cheques. I craved independence, and for me, it has fostered a happy life, in a really neat profession that has all kinds of inherent opportunities, and advantages, for those who use their potential to make big finds, and net large profits. To me, it's so much more about independence than profit margins, although I'm not complaining about pay days. Just that the pay days wouldn't be nearly as satisfying, as if they were a shared credit situation; success being attributed to a group rather than an individual.
Suzanne and I have always worked independently in our areas of collecting interests. We collaborate but we don't suffocate each other's competitive urges. We have gladly given permission, to out-perform each other when opportunity arises, and from week to week the competition-leader can, and does change, depending on circumstances of acquisition. While it doesn't get nasty out there, and we haven't once, in three decades, got into a wrestling match over a piece or collection the other has found, it is never taken lightly, when the other pulls ahead with a special acquisition. Yet, we don't stand in each other's way, of coaxing our respective entry, into an inner sanctum of someone else's private collection, based on clever approaches, and bold enterprise. We share our successes, don't get me wrong, once credits have been duly noted in our registry of victories and losses. As I noted earlier. We are two wildly competitive individuals, who are motivated by any opportunity to succeed at some project or other; and it can come at the expense of a partner's shortfall. This zeal for ongoing competition, negates the possibility, of approaching any hunt and gather adventure without full ambition, to outdo the other, as far as discoveries soon to be made. It's not the case we can't handle losing, or failure. It's the prevailing reality, that we self-inspire because of this competitive passion, and this matters more than having to shoulder some failures as well. The antique and collectable business, has very much, facilitated this wide-open field for advancement, and it's what makes us so darn happy. It is recreation, mixed with business, because we don't end our hunt and gather adventures, despite the outcome, feeling deficient of experience, or enjoyment for the time spent "in quest." We are both well suited to our profession. If it was to ever become a burden, or too much like the work we used to do for a pay cheque (teaching for her, writing for me), then it will be necessary to retire completely, and finish off our memoirs of the antique profession, as recalled of what we knew of "as the good old days," when damn-it all to bits, it was too much fun to be considered a job.
Success in our profession is rather fleeting at best; when it comes down to the glory that is only ever momentary, because the only way we can sustain ourselves, is by selling off the items of value we acquire for temporary ownership. I think in this regard, it is a difficult biography to write, without severe peaks and valleys, because the highlights tend to run together as either a slightly elevated high, or one that is somewhat lower, because of shortfalls in our chronology of profitable acquisitions. It might be different if there was a huge acceleration of valuable discoveries, that was ever rising toward an extending peak of profit and notoriety. It is seldom ever like this, even when diving on a known site, for sunken treasure. There are good days, big discoveries, followed by poor days and no discoveries. When writing about this chronology, there are as many gradual hollows as there are soft inclines, and it becomes a pretty general overview of what we, with our bias, will consider a reward-laden run, but never a waste of time. I think this can make it seem like a pretty average profession, from beginning to end, although it's not at all how Suzanne and I feel at any given time of retrospective. We raised a family, with weekly exercises of buying and selling antiques and collectables, so it shouldn't then, be any surprise, we have two collector sons, living roughly the same competitive existence, trying to outdo each other, when hunting for vintage music nostalgia. Just like us, they have enjoyed the freedom of the antique "buy and sell," but with the option to play as a team if they so desire. That's the reason they have played with bands in the past, and most recently, where their competence as musicians, puts forth a winning effort for the team.
Would I recommend the antique business as a profession to give a whirl? No! Never "a whirl"! That is risky business. To make it work, takes full immersion and the willpower to succeed at all cost. It's the only way. But it worked for us!
THE PAINTED CROCK - THE UNKNOWN FOLK ARTIST - AND MY VERY SURPRISED WIFE
WHEN THE ANTIQUE DEALER IS AT FAULT - AND THE ARTIST IS BASHFUL
AFTER WE PURCHASED OUR FIRST HOUSE, A SIMPLE VICTORIAN ERA STRUCTURE THAT HAD BEEN BUILT FOR TANNERY EMPLOYEES, IN THE TOWN OF BRACEBRIDGE CIRCA 1895), SUZANNE WAS ENAMORED BY THE DECORATING IDEAS BEING PUT FORWARD, IN VARIOUS PUBLICATIONS, BY MARTHA STEWART. WE DIDN'T HAVE A LOT OF MONEY, AFTER WE SCRAPED UP THE DOWNPAYMENT, AND KEPT UP OUR MONTHLY CAR PAYMENTS. SHE HAD TO DECORATE ON A TIGHT BUDGET…..IF YOU COULD EVEN CALL IT A BUDGET. SUZANNE IS A BARGAIN HUNTER AND WE WERE ALWAYS GOING TO SECOND HAND SHOPS AND FLEA MARKETS, NOT TO MENTION OCCASIONAL SUMMER AUCTIONS, SO WE COULD DECORATE "ON THE CHEAP," AND MAKE THE REMODELED HOME LOOK LIKE ONE YOU'D FIND IN A "COUNTRY LIVING" MAGAZINE PHOTO SPREAD. ONE OF HER FAVORITE PROJECTS WAS TO STENCIL THE HUGE WHITE WALLS OF THE HALL AND SECOND FLOOR BEDROOMS. SHE USED THE PRE-CUT PANELS, SHE FOUND IN LOCAL CRAFT SUPPLY SHOPS, AND SHE HAD A CONSERVATIVE ARRAY OF PAINTS. "SOFT HUES" SHE USED TO TELL ME……"WE WANT THE BABY (ANDREW) TO BE IN AN ENVIRONMENT WITH SOFT HUES." I JUST LISTENED AND HELPED WHERE I WAS NEEDED. ACTUALLY, I'D TRY TO FIND A HIDING PLACE DOWNSTAIRS, WITH THE NEWSPAPER AND A PINT OF ALE. ACTUALLY, SEEING AS I WAS USELESS AS A DECORATOR, SHE'D LET ME THINK I'D PULLED OFF THE GREAT ESCAPE. SHE LIKED THE PEACE AND QUIET OF THE ART ENTERPRISE ANYWAY. UNTIL ANDREW WOULD WAKE UP FROM HIS AFTERNOON NAP. THE VERY NEXT BELLOW, WAS FROM THE ARTIST AT WORK……."TED, YOU LAZY BUM……WILL YOU PLEASE FEED ANDREW?" "YES DEAR," I REPLIED….WHICH WAS A LINE I HAD TO GET USED TO, AS IT WOULD SAVE OUR MARRIAGE UP TO AN INCLUDING THE PRESENT.
AFTER AWHILE, THERE WAS NO WHITE SPACE LEFT ON THE WALLS, ANYWHERE IN THE HOUSE. SHE WAS ADDICTED TO STENCILING. IT WAS A GREAT HOBBY FOR HER, AFTER ANDREW WAS BORN, AND WE HAD STENCILED FLORALS AND VINES, TEDDY BEARS AND RABBITS ALL OVER THE PLACE. I USED TO HAVE MY HOCKEY AND FOOTBALL BUDDIES OVER, UNTIL THE KIDDING GOT TOO MUCH……BECAUSE SUZANNE WAS ONLY TOO THRILLED TO TELL THEM I WAS HER DECORATING ADVISOR. NO, THAT WASN'T TRUE. I WAS THE GUY HAULING THE FURNITURE INTO THE HOUSE, THAT I BOUGHT AT SALES, CARRYING ON MY OWN OBSESSION, TO OPEN UP OUR FIRST (IN MARRIED LIFE) ANTIQUE BUSINESS. MY FIRST ANTIQUE FORAY WAS WITH "OLD MILL ANTIQUES," IN BRACEBRIDGE, A BUSINESS STARTED WITH MY PARENTS ON UPPER MANITOBA STREET. BIRCH HOLLOW ANTIQUES WAS COMMENCED IN OUR HOUSE AS A MUNICIPALLY APPROVED "HOME OCCUPATION." WE ONLY KEPT IT IN THE HOUSE FOR TWO YEARS BEFORE WE MOVED TO THE RURAL CLIME. OUR NEW ABODE HAD PANELLING. NO STENCILS NEEDED. SUZANNE STILL THINKS I WANTED THAT HOUSE BECAUSE THERE WAS NO DRYWALL TO PAINT. I REPEAT, "TO THIS, I HAVE NO COMMENT."
ANYWAY, WHEN SUZANNE RAN OUT OF WALL TO STENCIL, SHE DECIDED TO STENCIL OTHER THINGS, INCLUDING CROCKS, MAPLE SAP BUCKETS, CHAIR BACKS AND OLD SLEIGHS. OH, THERE WERE OTHER THINGS, LIKE FABRIC, AND BED SHEETS, BUT LET'S TAKE A LOOK AT THE ANTIQUES SHE UPGRADED WITH HER FOLK ART. FIRST OF ALL, EVEN WITH OUR BUSINESS, WE STILL HAD AT LEAST ONE ANNUAL YARD SALE, EACH SUMMER, WHILE LIVING ON ONTARIO STREET. WE WOULD RUN IT OVER TWO DAYS, AND WE PUT OUT THE BEST OF THE BEST, IN ORDER TO DRAW ATTENTION TO OUR STAKE IN THE ANTIQUE PROFESSION. WE'D GET A HUGE CROWD AND THE FINANCIAL TAKE OVER TWO DAYS, COULD HIT THREE TO FOUR THOUSAND DOLLARS. I REMEMBER HER BEING SO EXCITED ON ONE OF THESE YARD SALE SATURDAYS, WHEN SHE RUSHED INTO THE HOUSE TO TELL ME, SHE HAD JUST THAT MOMENT, SOLD THREE OF HER STENCILED CROCKS, AND TWO CHAIRS SPORTING HER HANDIWORK……TO THREE DIFFERENT BUYERS. I WAS THRILLED FOR HER, AND THERE WERE LOTS OF OTHER THINGS TO STENCIL, THAT WERE IN STORAGE. SHE WAS LIVING THE LIFE OF A FOLK ARTIST. A SORT OF MUSKOKA MAUD LEWIS. AS GOD WAS OUR WITNESS, WE NEVER ONCE THOUGHT ABOUT THE POSSIBILITY, THE STENCILS WOULD BE SERIOUSLY CONSIDERED LEGITIMATE ORIGINAL ART, FROM THE PERIOD OF THE ANTIQUE, CROCK, POTTERY OR WOOD THEY ADORNED. IT NEVER CAME UP IN CONVERSATION. IT SHOULD HAVE, BUT IT DIDN'T. SUZANNE WAS BASKING IN HER NEW FAME, AND THINKING ABOUT THE FUTURE AS A STENCIL ARTIST. TO HECK WITH TEACHING, WHEN YOU COULD LIVE LIKE AN "R---TEEST!"
SO ONE LOVELY AUTUMN DAY, OUT FOR A LITTLE MOTOR TRIP, WITH OUR NEW BORN SON, WE STOPPED IN TO SEE A CHARMING LITTLE SHOP, RUN BY SOMEONE WE WERE FAMILIAR WITH, AND TRUSTED, IN THE ANTIQUE PROFESSION. IT WAS WELL STOCKED AND THE ARRAY OF BEAUTIFULLY REFINISHED ANTIQUE FURNITURE WAS STUNNING; IT WAS ONE OF THE FINEST LITTLE COLLECTABLE BUSINESSES IN THE DISTRICT. I TALKED WITH THE OWNER FOR SOME TIME, AND CONGRATULATED HIM ON HIS NEWLY OPENED VENTURE. HE HAD BEEN IN THE BUSINESS FOR MANY YEARS ELSEWHERE, BUT FOUND THIS URBAN NEIGHBORHOOD SHOP BETTER FOR YEAR-ROUND TRADE. IN THE MIDDLE OF A CONVERSATION, SUZANNE WHISPERED IN MY EAR THAT SHE WANTED ME TO COME WITH HER, TO ANOTHER PART OF THE SHOP. IN FACT, SHE STARTED TUGGING AT MY COAT SLEEVE, IN CASE THE VERBAL DIRECTIVE HADN'T REGISTERED. EVENTUALLY, I EXCUSED MYSELF FROM THE CONVERSATION, AND FOLLOWED MY WIFE, AS IS USUAL IN ANTIQUE SHOPS WE VISIT. JUST INSIDE THE DOORWAY OF A BACK-ROOM, SHE POINTED TO A SHELF LOADED WITH CROCKS. I THOUGHT SHE WAS LOOKING TO BUY SOME MORE TO APPLY HER STENCILS. "LOOK, LOOK, THERE'S MY CROCK, OVER THERE……..AND IT'S PRICED AT $75.00," SHE SAID, GOING OVER TO WHERE IT WAS SITUATED, AND PICKING IT UP TO SHOW ME HER STENCIL WORK. WHEN SHE DID THAT, SHE ACTUALLY EXPOSED A SECOND CROCK, ALSO WITH ONE OF HER ART PIECES ON THE SIDE; THIS ONE, BIGGER, WAS PRICED AT $85.00. WHAT WAS REALLY BAD, WAS THAT THEY WERE IDENTIFIED AS ORIGINAL FOLK ART. THE TWO CROCKS, BY 1985-86 PRICES, WOULD HAVE MAYBE BEEN TWENTY AND THIRTY DOLLARS RESPECTIVELY. THEY WEREN'T A BIG DEAL. THE TRUTH? HONESTLY? YOU WON'T TELL MY WIFE, WILL YOU? I WOULDN'T HAVE LET HER PAINT ON A REALLY GOOD, AND VINTAGE CROCK, AS I AM AN ANTIQUE PURIST. I ADORE ORIGINAL FINISHES…..SO THERE WAS NO CHANCE I WOULD LET HER EXPERIMENT ON A MORE HISTORIC, VALUABLE CROCK. IN FACT, IT WOULD HAVE SERIOUSLY DEVALUATED THE CROCKERY. WHAT SHE HAD DECORATED WERE OF THE VINEGAR CROCK VARIETY. EVEN THE PINE CHAIRS AND OLD SLEIGH WERE COMMON PIECES, AND THE FOLK ART STENCILS JUST MADE THEM INTERESTING DECORATOR ITEMS. NOT CANADIANA WITH ORIGINAL FOLK ART! GADS, WHAT HAD WE DONE?
NOW THE ABSURDITY OF THIS, AND THE DEALER SHOULD HAVE STUDIED THE STENCILS MORE CLOSELY…….., THEY WERE DONE OVER THE CROCK'S ORIGINAL GLAZE, WITH NO SURFACE PREPARATION…..SANDING OR ANYTHING ELSE. WHICH OF COURSE, MEANT THAT YOU COULD SCRATCH IT ALL OFF WITH A FINGERNAIL. FOLK ART ON THE OLDEST CROCKS WOULD HAVE BEEN APPLIED TO A LOW LUSTER OR BARE SURFACE, AND THEN SUBJECTED TO A GLAZE BAKED OVER-TOP. THERE ARE EXCEPTIONS OF COURSE, BUT NOT IN THE CASE OF FOLK ART STENCILING OVER A HIGH GLOSS FINISH. SO HERE WERE THESE TWO RIDICULOUSLY PRICED VINEGAR JUGS, WITH SUZANNE'S HANDIWORK ON THE SIDES, WITH PRICES ATTACHED THAT WERE OBSCENELY HIGH. AND HERE WAS A DEALER WE RESPECTED FOR HIS OPINIONS AND KNOWLEDGE OF ANTIQUE COLLECTING….SELLING MODERN APPLICATION STENCILS AS ORIGINAL, PERIOD (PROPORTIONAL TO THE JUGS) FOLK ART. AS I WROTE ABOUT IN MY PREVIOUS BLOG, ANTIQUE DEALERS TEND TO SHY AWAY FROM CONFRONTING ASSOCIATES IN THE TRADE, OUT OF PROFESSIONAL COURTESY. YOU DON'T HAVE TO TELL ME THIS IS WRONG. IS IT EVER WRONG! WE SHOULD HAVE DEMANDED HE CHANGE HIS NOTES ON EACH OF THE JUGS, AND THE ASKING PRICES. WHAT IF HE JUST LAUGHED AT US, OR TO THE CONTRARY, GOT VERY ANGRY AND TURFED US OUT ONTO THE FRONT SIDEWALK? WHAT WE DID DO, WAS BID HIM FAREWELL, AND VOWED TO NEVER COME BACK TO HIS SHOP. I REALLY FEEL BAD ABOUT ADMITTING THIS, BECAUSE I KNOW THERE'S A GOOD POSSIBILITY HE SOLD THOSE OVER-PRICED JUGS, WITH FOLK ART (BY SUZANNE), TO SOME LESS TUTORED CUSTOMER, THINKING THEY HAD MADE A GREAT PURCHASE OF CANADIANA. UNFORTUNATELY, THIS IS AN INTIMATE SECRET OF THE ANTIQUE COMMUNITY, MOST DEALERS DON'T WANT TO TALK ABOUT…..LET ALONE OFFER AS A CONFESSIONAL, OF THEIR OWN BEHAVIOR, OR AS A CONFRONTATION, FOR DEALERS WHO REGULARLY MISLEAD CUSTOMERS FOR PROFIT. THE FACT WE DIDN'T CONFRONT THE DEALER MEANS WE ARE PART OF THE PROBLEM. THAT'S NOT GOOD FOR THE PROFESSION, WHEN IT HAPPENS WITH SUCH FREQUENCY, AND VOLUME.
SUZANNE STOPPED HER BRIEF FOLK ART CAREER, TO THWART DEALERS FROM SPECULATING ON HER WORK
Suzanne told me that she sold those crocks to a woman, during that yard sale event, and had no idea she was connected with this particular antique dealer. We don't even know that they were related, and it might have been the case she was a picker, and just peddled them to the dealer as the "finds of the day." Still, he could have taken the time to examine the stencils more closely, and scratched at them to determine whether they were sealed onto the surface or not. The entire stencil could have been removed in about five minutes with just one worthy fingernail. So that should have been a giant tip-off, that the art work wasn't original. So as far as due diligence, it was half-ass, and we had a hard time believing these decorated jugs could fool a veteran dealer. What happened was a less than thorough examination, and more attention was directed at writing the price tags, than making sure the crockery was legitimately sporting an original folk art depiction. The image on the crockery was a pheasant I believe. On both vinegar jugs, but in different color combinations. You know, the art work was scratched, even after only several months of handling. So imagining that they were a hundred years of age, was totally negligent in the research and inspection process…..that comes before purchase, and is reassessed before the price tag is finally attached. As well, very few vinegar jugs were decorated with folk art. The ones I've ever seen, were courtesy of my charming bride.
For two years after that folk art yard sale, we were finding Suzanne's handiwork in antique shops around the region. It was so embarrassing, but I think Suzanne figured there was a future here in duping the antique dealers of this part of Ontario. I had to remind her that we were part of the antique dealer community, and we couldn't let this continue. We kept on having lots of yard sales, but the folk artist had hung up her stencil, paints and brushes. On an occasion, a few years ago, I went into a friend's house, and geez, there they were, bold and beautiful. Two early pine chairs with Suzanne's stencil work on the backs. I didn't say a word, when she pointed them out, telling me that she had bought them a number of years ago from a local antique dealer…..who I also knew, wondering if I could give her an appraisal. I gave her a price on the chairs themselves, and made no mention of the stencils that were original "Suzanne's." Once again, the antique dealer should have known that the folk art on the back, which added value to the chairs' in-store valuation (I hate to admit we were part of this equation), was newly painted. Even with her choice of soft hues, you could tell by the lack of age patina, that it wasn't more than a few years old at the most. Actually, Suzanne decided to put the chairs out for the yard sale, before I could apply a couple of coats of varnish to seal the artwork……meaning, it would wear off quite as quickly without. Honestly folks, the crocks and chairs were for home-use initially, and it was only because our yard sales were so popular back then, that Suzanne went rummaging through the house to find more inventory that fateful morning.
Now let's be clear. If ten dealers had been exposed to those folk art adorned chairs, crocks and a sleigh, five of them might have suspected modern day tampering of a bored stenciler. The others were just looking for quick inventories, and felt that because they were vintage crockery, they were worth the asking price at the yard sale. This was true. Suzanne was selling them for about ten bucks each, and the chairs weren't more than twenty bucks each. The sleigh was probably twenty-five bucks. So she definitely wasn't speculating on her folk art. The buyers, on the other hand, were, as reflected by the asking prices, and the notes attached to the price tags in respective shops. It was the first time we really had concerns about our role in the profession, and who we would mentor with after this. If these dealers could be fooled by a simple watercolor stencil, then they weren't the professionals we were going to seek advice from. We didn't want to embarrass these dealers by pointing out their folly. By refusing to correct this situation, we became part of the deceitful enterprise we claim to loathe. It is a contradiction we still admit to, when we visit shops and mall vendors, who are doing roughly the same thing……misrepresenting pieces for sale, as original, when we know absolutely, that they are reproductions. It's kind of a vicious cycle you might say. As for associate dealers, who are profoundly concerned about maintaining high quality and reliable businesses, attention to detail and due diligence are daily requirements of operation……never an exceptional circumstance…..by strict retail standard, based on high regard for their reputation. It's our way of compensating, I suppose, to model ourselves accordingly……and keep it in the forefront of our operation, to label appropriate to age, and whether original or reproduction.
I'm sure if Suzanne had continued her folk art, on vintage articles, she would have flooded the market with her soft hues, and bird and grape-vine motifs. She backed out gracefully, for the good of the antique and art profession. Thanks for visiting with me today, and I hope if you have one of Suzanne's folk art painted jugs or chairs, you will cherish it as the "storied" pieces they are now……after this confessional. See you again, I hope.
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