Monday, May 23, 2016

Posterior - Part Four (A) - "Highborn"


Part Four (A)


            If a flea market is a posterior
            Of both the antiquarian interest
            And the antiquarian commercial realms. (Part One)
            If it is a posterior
            Then “Why?”
            Should I.

            First I ‘habitat’ using a duck, duck, goose of three old chairs (Part one).  Classic ‘antique’ chairs they were... at a posterior marketplace.  Then I turned snide and vended an old looking glass while promoting philosophy and humanity at the
            Posterior marketplace. (Part Two)
            “Chippendale” I said of that... looking glass.
            Did you look in it (“Mirror, mirror on the wall”)
            Or through it,
            Yes... to that word; “Chippendale”
            It is a little ‘highborn’?

            Following that smooth spread, I angled crass and commercial (Part Three) by frontal declaration that the actual selling of a better thing (antiques) is well accomplished at the posterior marketplace using the skullduggery of ‘sleight of hand’ (sight and hand).  I used a true rare book and a never technically described old painting as passive commercial examples.  I did not mention then that these; rare books and old paintings, may be ‘of highborn’.  A smaller circle I am showing?
            This is the greater key to the posterior market; this smaller circle
            Of the highborn

            It didn’t ‘used to be that way’; this crass and crude marketing of scrapings and leavings turning out to be ‘of flea’.
            Scrapings and leavings served to me at an antiquarian food court designated a ‘posterior’ of a ‘marketplace’ prefixed ‘flea’.  It is the highborn?
            “When they don’t know... they don’t know.”
            When you do not know then you do not know.
            In spite of that they all show up, all the time and
            Speak very well of a... that... they... well... “do know”.  Vendors, guests, walking couples, collectors from New Jersey, family vacations, professional decorators and... a good dozen or two of people who all though well intentioned, could not explain what they are doing ‘here’ and how they, too, ‘got here’.  There’s a certain charm to those of the last group.  Really; there is.  Just watch them for a few minutes.
            All need warning to:
            “Look out for the dog poop.” with that warning including the ‘that’ from their own dog.
            So... ‘highborn’ anything
            “Is not”?
            That levels a playing field doesn’t it.  Or does that give someone like me ‘advantage’?  And that advantage becomes a ‘biggest reason of all’?

            If an antique is highborn... there are less of them ‘around’.  There are so ‘less of them’; so few... that one may not ever sight one.  Or... more likely, one may actually ‘see one’ (a highborn specimen of a design medium) ‘once’ in a lifetime (twenty to thirty years but better considered ‘in a lifetime’ of fifty years).  Sight one.  Not find one.  Not buy one.  Not collect one.  Not seek, study, know of, learn about or... no.  Just ‘see one’.
            Looking at that from my trained and traveled antiquarian eye, I... with my eye... learned a long time ago that I may (and do) carry a smidgeon of ‘highborn I know’ ‘that’ with me for decades before suddenly ‘using it’ on a ‘that’ and.... that-that being too... ‘highborn’; a highborn antique.
            “Oh now that’s just” especially at a posterior marketplace called flea... a fish in a barrel... to someone like me.
            I always stop at them.  I promise.

            It is a dirty business; pursuing highborn antiques at a posterior.  A buttock of the market?  Dirty business whose setting is cleaned up for me by the partner:  Mr. Know-Not Know.  You’ve met him?  I doubt it.  He says to me “Well what about THAT over THERE”.  What he speaks of is so far away.  I do not hurry.  No need to scamper.  Everything is in slow motion.  It has taken me fifty years to ‘find one of those’... so it should be ‘in slow motion’.  I walk over.  The ‘in the mind’.. design... rat race has already taken place in my head as these steps are taken.  I don’t just grab ANYTHING:  ‘People’ are watching.  No... everything is in slow motion.  I have the entire posterior of the flea market field to myself.  No one is going to swoop in.  Not even you.

            I will try to levitate:  Clustered on a folding plastic card table and among the table top’s hoard of rubble are six specimens of an... English ceramic design form titled commonly ‘copper lustre’; a form of  ‘English’ ‘Lustre Ware’.  So... already the chess piece titled highborn may be moved:  Yes... isn’t that... so there we go with that ...quite early on.  But that is not critical highborn.  No; that is commoner... highborn.  And I am still walking over.
            When I do touch, I touch the common by conscious choice.  ‘People’ are watching’.  Touch and price this clump of ‘old copper lustre’ ‘ware’.  Copper lustre, in the current antiquarian... interest... and market... is, at the most, a “zero” if not actually a ‘negative’.  Everyone ‘knows’ what it is they will tell you; the ‘I know’ from above.  Then they just add for clarity that ‘it doesn’t sell’ and... move on past my dismembered body they, the ‘I know’ just
            “I know” to “death”.

            Well I know all that too but am, shall I say, born again... of the English design forms titled ‘lustre ware’.  Yes:  I ‘looked into it’ (studied it) a long time ago; its art, history, heritage and... all that applied TOO to its (lustre ware) antiquarian collector and that market.  Notice that is TWO fields of survey and study.  That is, then, ‘a lot’ of informed ‘I know’ that I “bring to this” (the six or seven old lustre ware vessels... sitting on a folding plastic card table in the sun at an out of doors antiquarian posterior called ‘flea market’).  That is a lot more than anyone else ‘around’ “brings”.  Valuable seconds of my life are ticking away (wasting).  Or are they?  You may not tell me.  I will tell you.  I am in the moment of ‘finding’ a ‘highborn’ antique.  Is that wasting time?  You, for example, are next to the table inspecting an old metal ‘potato racer’ that is “JUST LIKE MY MOTHER USED” you speak to your friend as you, idly, put it back.  You smell like sun screen.
            You do.
            And I don’t care.  I am busy.  I am at work.  I am at my job... working.
            So... the cluster
            Of Lustre

            All have little slips of paper inside each vessel pricing that vessel.  And:  One vessel has no price slip in it.  That vessel, I noticed... ten feet away... is notably different as lustre ware when an ‘I know’ eye races ‘over it’.  Copper lustre is a shiny copper glazed ground with decorative design hand painted upon this copper... lustre.  Form, too, is important.  Copper lustre is an ‘Empire Style’ form (1825-1845); the ‘style’ of a, for example, table pitcher (“jug”).  The Empire Style is ‘credited’ to Josephine, Napoleon’s wife.  I do not need to get into that.  In this moment the copper lustre (with price slips) are clear-to-my-eye “copper lustre” “Perfect condition”.  “Oh.”
            “But what about THAT?”  A forlorn hope in the midst of Empire Copper?  Yes.  In the midst is a white glazed clay body with vigorous PINK lustre hand painted decoration all over it and TOO this pink lustre being a ‘jug’ of ‘different form’ (earlier)
            How different?  The lines are stern; not flamboyant.  The lines ‘hold’ the form.  To a lay... USA... eye, the ‘stern’ looks a little toward... American Federal... style.  But it is not American Federal style.  It is, actually, the English ceramic form that American Federal form
            Comes from;
            An English

            So I see all of this ten feet away in seconds; the this one ‘jug’ is, as design, heads and tails above the Empire copper lustre; that it is classic ‘pink lustre’ decoration on classic English Hepplewhite ‘jug’ form.  I, too, see that the jug is age tone ‘browned’, has pleasing and concise usage wear on the bottom, three minor spout edge old usage flakes and... “Otherwise perfect” and “don’t have to worry:  “It’s real” (not a recent ‘reproduction’).  But.  No price.
            “How much?”
            “Five (dollars).  See the chips?”
            “I hand over five dollars and say, only, “Thank you”.
            “Really”:  It’s the best pink lustre I’ve found in years.  The form is perfect.  The painting full fledge.  Somebody cared... about “that”.  They certainly cared when they made it.  And it is, as an object, so fragile;
            So highborn.

Tuesday, May 17, 2016

Posterior - Part Three - "Sleight of Hand (Sight and Hand)"


Part Three

"Sleight of Hand (Sight and Hand)"

            Now that... old things’ (antiques)... we find... may be found, seen, stumbled upon or:  Bought, sold, collected and discoursed upon...
            At a
            Flea market
            With withering (inter-vendor finger pointing and rumor mongering).  Too.

            Now that
            The Port-“oh”-Potty has been “occupied”, the food court taste tested, the ‘field’ walked, the vendor stalls ‘tire kicked’
            The philosophy (of flea market) acknowledged.  The humanity (of flea market) bleeding out.  (All from Part Two).
“Now then”.
            Now that:

            Not only did it start at a very young age (for I) but there was an ‘also’ of having others pointing out that one could
            “Do that”.
            One old man (an antiquarian sales tactician) assured me that if I want to sell a ‘whatever’ for a lot of money I just do not...
            Put this ‘whatever’ out on a flea market table ‘for sale’ with a price tag on it.  “No.” he assured me, especially if the ‘whatever’ was an especially desirable ‘whatever’ and I sought a price capturing that aspect.  “No.” he ...told... me.  “Let them only see a quarter inch of it if you want to sell it (for a lot of money)”.
            That was not a sleight of hand that was easy to ‘live by’.  The antiquarian connoisseurship rule is, always, that one is, always, a ‘to show’ the best things (‘whatever’) one “HAS” to an (knowing and receptive) (?) audience that, too, “BUYS”.  No; the ‘little-bads’ lie
            About ‘Buy’.
            That part; the (actual) buy... chokes.  So. “HIDE IT ON THEM” (sight and hand):

            “Did I say this is all at a flea market too?  I should notice that to you.  Too.”
            (Quoted from Part One).

            So if I am at a flea market, I may sleight of hand using... sight and hand. And:
            Be considered too that “A” flea market and/or an “I” being there may too... be too... a sleight of hand (sight and hand) TOO. 
            That is... to understand, I may be “at” this sleight of hand (sight and hand) on
            NUMEROUS... market tiers.
            (I will come back to this point but).
            Yes; that is right.  And the intentional effort... is to ‘get you to buy’ ‘whatever’; a ‘good’ one... ‘for a lot’.

            “What happened to the bowls of fish chowder?” you say.  (Part Two)
            I already told you about that.  I was a nice guy.  I still am a ‘nice guy’ for telling you about ‘this’ (sleight of hand – ‘sight and hand’).

            To bring us back to the start-together:  Above I notice that one may not depend on a simple ‘put whatever on your table with a price and someone buys it’ to create enough sales to make all this (“doing a flea market”) worth it.  One must... sleight of hand... using sight and hand... to increase sales.  So... following that self advice I start preparing for ‘the market’ and my ‘tables’ days... weeks... before... in a effort to have a ‘perfect balance' of ‘whatever’ to sell... “INTO” my ‘configure that’.  There’s where ‘dicey’ starts.  I am saying I ‘sleight of hand’ ‘whatever’ as basic commercial preparation on as many ‘whatever’ as I ...feel... I may configure to ‘be prepared’ (Boy Scouts of America) to sight and hand... sales... from the
            Posture (here the posterior antiquarian market called ‘flea’)
            Of my table tops at these flea markets.  Yes; posture.  The table tops are a nominal ‘street corner’ from which I may, at nominal cost and regulation, ‘stand’.  Sleight of hand does the rest.
            If  I consider, professionally as an antiquarian dealer, and configure my street corner well, I will, as that antiquarian dealer, be ‘loaded for bear’ and any “you” shuffling along down my vendor’s lane, will “never know”.  Unless, of course, you seek and spy a ‘quarter inch’ of a ‘whatever’ I have... ‘sleight of hand’ that happens to be a ‘your thing’.  Understand this?  It is harder than you think and is... much harder to do than you think ...too.  Need a simplistic example?

            If I am a rare book dealer... TOO... I buy and sell rare books.  Discounting ‘buy’ and featuring ‘sell’ I do not simply put my ‘a rare book whatever’ “OUT” on the table for you to
            With your well intentioned curiosity and... fumble fingers.  No.  I do not like you TOUCHING my rare books and... even seeing them.  Do not fret for if one should be a ‘serious’ I NOTICE THAT either from past contact and / or that you ‘handle’ (inspect) a carefully chosen ‘rare book’ on the table that... IF YOU ARE SERIOUS you ‘must’ and ‘will’ handle because... that is what you came to the flea market to do.  ONCE you have set my ‘ice fishing flag’ to wiggle, I ...MAY (my choice) step in to you with a ‘this’... or ‘that’... or “A” (quarter inch visible) “must have – collector grade... “rare book”.  Do not worry; this all happens very fast and you’d never notice if you are on the outside of, in this example, a ‘the rare books’... anyway.  Meaning too that IF you are, for example, looking for ‘PAINTINGS’ I “do that too”.  In fact the need is for one to understand and conceptualize that ALL... DESIGN... TYPES... as many as possible... are ‘brokered’ this way on my street corner all the time as fast as I can with as much prepared
            Sleight of hand
            As possible.  It is... on going... and ‘never stops’ for me... “ever”.

            Its base is ‘what I’ve found’, what ‘I have’, what it , commercially ‘actually is’ (value reality check DONE IN HOUSE), who ‘buys that’ for ‘how much’, when – where and will they be a
            BE THERE and
            DO I... have it with me.  Just ‘think’ what that last means.  It is me sitting in a chair in the dark in the barn a three thirty in the morning mentally rapidly rattling design ‘fields’ through my mind to determine what I “HAVE” at that moment so may, therefore, ‘bring’ at that moment.  That is a vast amount of ‘whatever’... and ‘who ever’ (a buyer) to be configuring.  So you will not be doing that soon... in competition with me.  No.  This is professional grade sleight of hand (pee in cupped hands).  It is not something one may practice.  WHY?  Because, Sissy, one has to HAVE THE ‘whatever’ before one may even approach a ‘sleight of hand’ ‘flea market’ vendor... vending.  YOU HAVE TO HAVE
            A something.  Or... in my case... a LOT of DIFFERENT “GOOD” (from an antiquarian design perspective) “STUFF”... showing only a quarter inch
            Of.  “Good luck with that”.

            Jack knives, Barbie dolls, 1960’s retro Pyrex glassware... and all such crud... GOES (is sold) NOW retaining ever ‘better’ whatever and these are ever more expensively priced to ...blossom... within ‘sleight of hand’ as ... these prove to be... pretty fine and ‘touchy’ expensive ‘antiques’.  Am I saying that if you look at a vendor table top that has a six dollar crap painting on it one may, too, denote by ‘quarter inch’ notice that ‘that same guy’ “just sold” a “PAINTING” ‘that looked really good’ ($3,500) out of the truck’s cab?  Yes.  And you were not invited.  You do, in fact, have to EARN your ‘way in’ to all this.  HOW?  By becoming known to be one who ‘knows’ ...AND... “buys”.  And does this; knows and buys.  It is an action.  Taken.

   I go back to the part I said I’d get back to:  “Numerous market tiers.
            Simply... notice that one may make a fatal mistake by believing flea market vendors are ‘idiots’.  Wrong and quite ...need to understand... the opposite.  For myself, the theater of the flea market is a ‘perfect (commercial antiquarian) storm AND a perfect home for that storm.  Getting a ‘you’ to dismiss a ‘me’ is ...very lucrative when enhanced on the ‘me’ side with sleight of hand.  You ‘thinking’ the not-possible is possible at a flea market IS the ‘quarter inch’ in process.  I just put the ‘whatever’ ‘THERE’ (the not -possible... possible).  I say nothing at all.  YOU’RE THE EXPERT.  Remember?  That is why you came to the flea market.  So I keep... it all... ‘shut... up’, except, of course, the quarter inch.

            I do not promote.  The quarter inch object is all I need.  YOU do the rest.  It works best when there is no conception on the buyer’s part as to a who, how, why, where of any of this... aside from the quarter inch view of the ‘priced’ ‘whatever’.  Look at it.  Go away and ponder.  Come back and look again.  Ponder and wander.  Return.  Buy... it.  No I do not want to hear your ‘game plan’.  I want you to ‘think’ I am an idiot.  Thank you for doing this.  You will come back ‘seeking’ “ever more”.  Or not.  My ‘Santa list’ is in constant edit (revising).  YOUR place on the list CHANGES.  Often in seconds.  Trust me:  One faces a real.  This is real.

            So it turns out at a flea market that an antiquarian may be, shall I say, ‘dressing down’... and be a slippery commercial critter too.  That is ‘of that’ a ‘treasured too’; a ‘kept in deep respect for’.  It is hard to not respect something that works so well and is a perk full too.  For example, I don’t “NEED” to shave ‘that day’.  En-stuff.  And again... it IS the stuff (the collector grade antiques) that fuels the engine.  Without my “THAT” there is no quarter inch that may be spied by ‘you’.

Friday, May 13, 2016

Posterior - Part Two - "A Flea Market Beyond"


Part Two

"A Flea Market Beyond"

            “Where did you say you found that?”
            “At the flea market.”
            Or is it... was it... “A”...
            Flea Market. 
            I didn’t remember to mentally structure that (those) (flea markets) for
            Clarity.  I just stood looking up
            Then down
            The vendor’s isle I didn’t
            Have a thought beyond my self center
            (and an unbounded superficial whirligig) I call my
            “I collect”
            And there didn’t seem to be anyone having that today; my “I collect”.

            There is no far end game passing “I collect” so the bigger the (flea) market place; the acreage, vendor isles, distance of the drive/travel time, food court, Port-“oh”- Potties and the “I forgot my wallet”.  Smart phone
            Aren’t you.
            Didn’t notice me... peeing in the woods behind a tree. 
            That flea market was too small to “make me stop”?
            It was, wasn’t it.

            “Animals.  A lot of them (vendors) are almost animals”.
            Actually they are animals just like you are an animal.  You just do a better job of covering it up with sun screen
            Being your little life so it doesn’t ever count that there could be... counted...
            A flea market ‘beyond’.  And maybe it is not a big one (a large flea market)
            After all.

            The smaller flea markets allow a vendor’s wares to force a larger table top of exposure to the other animals.  So small is better.  The Port-“oh”-Potties are cleaner... with no waiting line.  The food may actually be inspired.
            That part (food court) is an old Maine fact of life in action.  Simple... but applies to the ‘a flea market beyond’:  If the old girl makes chowder the same as her mother made it who made it the same as her mother and
            Lives up the road “BY CARRIE’S” and reaches her battle worn arm with its crinkle skin, slight tan, slight burn out of her “I didn’t think about it THAT much” dress top... down into the fish muck as she calls out “CHOWDER READY” across the (flea market’s) field.  I seen the old man vendor sipping, spooning, sipping, spooning
            Cup.  Bowl.  His whole day right there when she reached her ladle to the bottom.  Not just for him.  She serves every bowl that way; just the way her grandmother did. He knows that.  “Good chowder” he said.  “Good coffee too”.
            He has his black. “Can stand a spoon up in it”.
            “Where did you say this flea market is?”
            “You drove by it asshole”.
            They (a flea market beyond) gets a lot more interesting when you get to the beyond.

            What do you think?  We don’t know that?  The old gent with his chowder and coffee don’t know that:
            “A flea market beyond”?  He sits there with his “I JUST BOUGHT” Official Boy Scout hatchet (with the scout insignia on the sheath).  Come up with it... brought it up to me... to “SEE IF” if I heard of the hatchet maker.  “ODD ONE” I said.  “That’s what I think too” he said.  “Never seen it”.  Then he went back down cross isle to his table.  Only one table top.  I always get two because I can ‘cover that’).  Sipped, standing over it, the black coffee.  Then sat back down.  Under his (sun screen) umbrella  The empty chowder bowl sat on his table’s edge.  “GONNA TAKE IT BACK UP TO HER (the food court)” he said.
            So you missed the Boy Scout hatchet but ‘caught eye’ on my Chippendale looking glass?  I guess you did.  Slowed right down in your time and space to look.  Like you’d never looked before.  Yep:  Walk right by Chippendale looking glasses most of the time don’t you
            Wish you could say that is not true but some how this one ‘caught eye’.  “It’s a busy one” I said passing you off as stump in a woodlot ‘there’.  You didn’t know quite what about that so you went on up the isle.  I know I’m the only one whose got one of those here ‘for sale’; a (New England ‘country’ made 1790) (emulating ‘formal fashion’) Chippendale ‘courting glass’.  (boy – girl – looking glass); a ‘got one here’.  “Busy” means its cutouts; the ‘Chippendale’, are... tight cut plentiful to the eye yet still subtle and understated; the looking glass ‘dances’ to the eye.  Don’t worry, it takes years to get that ‘to eye dancing’ “right”.
            “Most of them are clunk”.
            You don’t know and that’s not what I was speaking of.  Anyway.

            If you don’t get beyond.  See ‘a flea market beyond’... you miss it... all.  I mean:  You can come back down the isle and talk to me about the looking glass... and such.  Let us just see how expert... WHAT?
            Well we did see you pull off the road and park.  It’s not like there’s a whole lot of cars in the parking lot.  This ain’t a BOX STORE parking lot.  We seen you all get out.  Everyone has to pee... we know that.  We see you looking around like you need a map.  There’s only two isles with four rows of vendors (one vendor row on each side of the isles).  And they peter out.  So it’s ‘up and back’ twice.  Think you can make it?  Oh don’t worry; they (the vendors) don’t care.  They’re not there for you.
I am not there for you. 
            It’s ‘about the stuff’
            And protection
            Of a flea market beyond

            The old man’s empty chowder bowl... at the edge of his vendor’s table... with the spoon resting in it... saves me from ‘eternity’ and... you.  Go back and get in your car and drive away.  “Thank you”.  Okay you even bought my looking glass and paid me too.  No cash but finally “would you take my check”
            What state are you from?  “I didn’t even know there was a state there”.  “NO:  BEYOND”.
            A flea market beyond.  “There?”  I already bought two eighteenth century side chairs (Part One) and sold an eighteenth century mirror (looking glass) TODAY.  That’s right and that’s NOT ‘a beyond’ either.  THAT’S MY JOB.  I’m an antiques dealer:   An ‘it’s what I do’.  BEYOND
            So what.  I moved my umbrella to increase my shade spot.  I sat in my folding lawn chair.  And figured out.  So I said “I suppose”.  I got up and went down cross isle to see the old gent.  He’d returned his chowder bowl to the food court.  And refilled the coffee mug.  “BILL” I said.  “That HATCHET have the (scout) emblem on it.  NOT the sheath.  The HATCHET”.  He started fumbling under the table then reached out over the top of the table to “WHERE I PUT THAT DAMN THING”.  Brought it into the umbrella shade.  Slipped sheath open.  No scout emblem.  On the hatchet.  “Someone put that hatchet in a scout sheath.  That hatchet don’t go with the sheath.  Originally”.  He looked up a me.  I went back up cross Isle to my tables.  A little breeze came in across my shade spot.  I sat in my chair nice.  Another two cars pulled into the parking lot.  They got out.  They had to pee.  One of ‘em had a dog too.  It peed right way.

            “I guess it’s better
            That way”.
            I don’t want you to have to think that there some sort of philosophy or humanity at a flea market.  I don’t want you to hear talk like that.  Bill says to me “That’s a pretty good book.  You ever read it?”  He was referring to Thoreau’s’ IN THE MAINE WOODS.  “I bought it for a dollar off of Eddie’s table.  Pretty good book”.
            “That’s an abridged edition” I said.
            “I know.  Still reads good.  You ever have it (meaning ‘have a rare book edition’)?
            “Yep.  Here and there over the years.  Four hundred dollars
            Here and there”.
            We both looked past the vendor row below us and on into the parking lot.  A car was turning around.  Another was turning in.  Neither of us said anything.  I’d put the two 18th century chairs up in my truck and had an old blanket tossed over them to ‘keep the sun off’.   I left a piece of them sticking out just for someone who ‘knows’ to spy when they come along.  Then Bill says “I think your right about the hatchet. Its not a scout hatchet.”