Antiquarian Sophistication of the "I" and the "Eye" Upon the "It" - Part Three - "Corners of the Rooms"

Antiquarian Sophistication of the "I" and the "Eye" Upon the "It"

Part Three

"Corners of Old Rooms"

            Once it is conveyed that there has been a cultural (culture – ‘the arts’) appreciation decline... that has created a ‘world turned upside down’ house burned flat within the ‘it’ of the antique interest with this... being carried by the antiquarian ‘eye’ no longer knowing what it is looking at and... this surveillance status supported by the ‘I’ who... know nothing... about any of this

            At all.

            AND substitute a ‘their own’ cultural appreciation formula (also using the classic ‘I’, ‘eye’ and ‘it’ ratio) to.... reflect

            “Where they are at” usually with a touch of ‘in your face’ too.  I alluded to examples of this (Part Two) but here actually state that it is ‘really bad’ inclusive of revving side by side Mustang auto engines in suburban driveways (“Breaking Bad”) as a cultural appreciation – [celebration of taste]) with Walt Whitman there too... on the

            Back of the toilet.

            From that setting... in that setting... Whitman does bring ‘all that’ down.  In fact (the ‘plot’ of “Breaking Bad”).  One may want to make more than a ‘note to self’ of that. 

            But that is not where Whitman began or from where he came from.  He began and came from a ‘long time ago’.  That hints that ‘I’ too... must a ‘long time ago’ go too... to open the door of ‘go there’ (Part Two, at the end) to ...get there; to see (‘eye’) the antiquarian ‘it’ and ‘classic good taste’.  Again:  A long time ago.

            Where could that be?

            It be... in old New England.

            It is your grandmother’s... grandmother’s... grandmother’s “Things”.  And in the old days... a long time ago... that was a very simple process.  My grandmother... one day when I was ‘little’, showed me ‘a piece of pewter’.  If your grandmother shows you pewter (a metal), you remember that... unless you’re a hopeless idiot and your grandmother DID know THAT too...  And I (‘I’)... after ‘seeing’ pewter... ‘never forget’.  After a while my grandmother

            “Showed me her pewter”.  Emphasis is on ‘her’ that was short for ‘her collection’ (of pewter).  My grandmother collected old pewter... among other ‘old things’ that she collected after being “shown” these “things”

            By her grandmother... who was shown them by

            Her grandmother.

            That is the way ‘it’ was done; ‘I’ to ‘eye’

            A long time ago.

            And that is how I (‘I’)... learned; my grandmother told me.  Herself.  Slowly.  Overtime.  As she had been ‘told’.  She introduce the ‘it’ by ‘eye’ to ‘I’ and... that I had, too, an ‘I’... just like SHE had an ‘I’ that managed her ‘eye’ to examine (an old New England) world full of ‘it’ (objects).  A long time ago.

            ‘It’ was a very simple process... readily accomplished... by grandmother...

            In the old New England home.

            Grandmothers were in THE home back then.  Now... they are in ‘A home’.

            But that is not a ‘long time ago’... is it.

            Once I was ‘shown’ ‘the old things’ I, too, heard of the ‘old ways’ that created a fondness for these old things.  “MY FATHER’S GRANDFATHER’S BROKEN TANKARD” was a declaration of ...good taste.  “BATTLE” “OF WHITE PLAIN (s)”.  I have spoken of plain white before (Part Two).  They are both ‘from the same date’ (a long time ago).  “He carried it (the broken tankard) back”.  No matter that the actual broken tankard was not made until AFTER the Revolutionary ...War (circa 1810).  “She”... greatest grandmother treasured it for... “I must” for “every generation to come”.  The critical ‘I’ denotes, using ‘eye’, that the tankard is not... creamware but the slightly later ...and brighter (“dental”) white ‘pearlware’... with ‘hand painted’ decoration.  Members from the family “FOUGHT” in the “WAR OF EIGHTEEN TWELVE” too.  The broken tankard could have ‘come home from that’.

            “OH GRANDMOTHER”... your great grandmother did not have a smart phone so could not SEE all of the ‘brushstroke’ decorated pearlware tankards ‘there are’ “on the Internet”.  AND NOW YOU HAVE DIED and left that broken tankard behind TOO.  What am I going to do with it?

            That is easy.  I’ll ‘get rid of it’ (throw it out)

            Because

            “I don’t know what it is”.

            The semblance of discord to the ritual of great grandmother’s heritage craft is easily found... among the antiquarian ‘it’ I purloin.  Stickers, notes, mentions, keepsakes, collections, storage, hoarding and ...as messages... from the corners of old rooms.  Documenting ‘it’ has ‘always been done in the home’.  Until recently.  By 1840, ‘old things’ and ‘old ways’ were already gathered as more than curiosities.  The process continued for nearly one hundred fifty years (1825-1975).  And then was erased.  1975 saw the start of the flourish and rash of ‘antiques’ ‘dealers’ who “did this”; commercially appreciate ‘old things’ from ‘a long time ago’ that were, evidently... “IN” “GRANDMOTHER’S HOUSE”.  Looting has taken place.  Grandmother’s house is ‘empty’ of ‘antiques’... and all else that ‘can be sold’.

            The ‘can be sold’ reached an object-self-sensitive-saturation point and... “the market” crashed.  Every old footstool and old pairs of old snowshoes are... ‘for sale’ in an ‘antiques shop’.  Right now.  No one is buying them... unless they are ‘cheap’.  That last is relative to the ‘I’ that utters it... about ‘it’ ...after ...surveillance.

            And that is the way it is.  Right now.  In fact the emphatic about this are so emphatic that they say that “it” will “never recover”.  I am... to understood... this is... a commercial delineation; the market for old footstools will never ‘come back”

            WELL WHERE DID IT GO?

            And took the ‘good taste’ with it too.  Did it?  Shutter your antiques shop because the old foot stool ‘will not sell’.  After forty years (1975 – 2016)... finally... ‘it’ “closed”.  The vast closures ‘sell off’ their snowshoes for ‘a loss’.  I do look... sort of... over... sort of... ‘some of them... sometimes’ (closing antiques shops) (many want to ‘sell me’ ‘everything’).  They never have any ‘old’ ‘creamware’ (Part Two).  They never did.  They never even

            “KNOW WHAT THAT IS”.

            My grandmother knew.

            What it.... IS.  It (an ‘it’) is STILL HERE.

            What I have just handed out... is a titled ‘folkways’... of old New England.  When Grandmother tells you... about ‘it’ and the heritage of her ‘its’, her home of its.  Her heart felt home full of its... she shows considerable ‘classic good (old New England) taste’.  Her old mouth full of crocked teeth (not particularly white teeth by YOUR ‘today’) murmur the heritage of whispers of messages from the corners of old rooms that she heard told to her when she heard of... being told that... “these old things” “are”

            “You”

            “Dear”.

            You remember... don’t you.  Or is it “no I don’t.”?  Popular today, after the full dismissal of what I just wrote of; an old New England folkway; a ‘way’ of ‘passage’... are the commercial value focus of, for example, television programs and internet web sites suggesting, through commercial foundation... what is... sophistication ... of... good taste... in old New England.  Yes... and a voyeur can hardly remember what the purveyed object was or ‘how valuable’ it was... moments (less than a day) “later”.  With that ‘is too’... is the...“not one in Grandmother’s house”.  “Either”.  No... what was in grandmother’s house is not there anymore?  Was it thrown out?

            Or did the aspect that the sophisticated taste of the antiquarian “what ‘it’ is” become the ‘I’... do not...;

            Is it ‘know’?

            Or is it ‘care’?

            Or both?

            “I”(the folkway) is not in ‘the’ home.

            “I”(the folkway) is in ‘a’ home... and dies ‘in there’.  No one notices a dead or dying folkway?

            I do.

            I straighten my tie...

            And spit in your ‘eye’.

            “You have bad taste; a bad eye, and your great-great grandmother would tell so.”

            It is her last message... from the corners of her old rooms... that you just

            “Cleaned out”.