Many people are curious about my collections or the habit of collecting. Some collections were never my intention, they just happened. Sometimes it is a comment in passing that triggers it all and sometimes it is a simple idea I have and it takes on a life of it's own.
A friend once told me I bake my cake on the outside. While most people consider, assess, and then speak, I share all my thoughts out loud. It confuses those who don't know me.
Wow these bottles are so cool, look at all of them. What could you possibly do with all of these (I am speaking to some lady in an outbuilding on the side of a country road who makes a living in resale and “antiques”)? The colors, sizes, and writings embossed on the sides intrigue me. When ever I see something older, I wonder about the person who originally possessed it. Who were they and why did they have this. It becomes very personal, like meeting someone knew, and they seem to be interesting, even though you know little of them.
Then my thoughts evolve... so many bottles here and a variety. I have never seen this particular shape before. What was it used for? What could I possibly do with old bottles. Well....and then the brainstorming begins. At this point or soon afterwards I can be silent to that side of the curious. I then become a designer, a creator. I consider all the obvious, the not so obvious, the bizarre, the beautiful.
Then in the excitement of this flooding of ideas, a few bottles become a big project which, could easily be amazing with a lot of bottles.
“I can make you a great deal on 10 or more.” Wow, if she can make a great deal on 10 or more, wonder about this whole shelf full? I ask. She answers. Now it is time to get serious. “What if I take them all?” She shifts, I stare her down. I relieve her of the bottles.
I am giddy with my bargaining power. I wait patiently for her to begin packing them. I scan the area for overlooked bottles, not to be forgotten. Wait. What if I can get other good deals like this. What else does she have.
I notice a few old plates. This poor lady is doomed! I am going to make another steal. After multiple trips to the car, I start counting my gain. I am still somewhat refrained, lest she figures out the deal. In reality, I did get them for a steal, no doubt.
As I drive away grinning to myself, or to my daughter, used to these excursions, I realize that I have to find a place to store these. I already have many staging areas as such. They will sit in their boxes, until such time as I am tired of looking at them. They will be re-staged to new areas, multiple times.
After a little disgust with lack of time and commitment I will give them an appropriate home. I will display them somewhere, and then somewhere again, and then eventually will find their way into a project, but not without giving much emotional investment.
My friends love coming to see what little collection I currently have out. It is a great teaching time for their children and much satisfaction for me to share the research I have completed. Sometimes it is more personal when I recall pieces from my youth or a home I visited as a child.
But reality hits, another collection is on the rise and I tire of moving and dusting the current. I will find a way to get creative with it, finally.
