It might seem a little odd, but I eagerly carried this chipped chicken to the checkout counter. It has a little nick on its beak and several on its tail. The stamp on its base was illegible. And yet, when I spotted it sitting on a half-wall between stalls in an antique mall, I knew exactly what it was and where it belonged.
It had no price tag so I snapped a picture of it alongside the booth number.
The photo is reminiscent of one I took some time ago, after another similar find. Why buy nearly identical pieces? I can’t say exactly, except that it has become more of an obsession than anything. My husband and I sometimes spend entire days scouring the antique shops in a drivable radius from our home in Riverside: Orange, Fullerton, Redlands, Pasadena, Escondido, Beaumont, Temecula, etc. Most—most!—of the time we come away empty-handed. This chicken find was near the end of our day. We had already called it a bust when I spotted it. I decided to see if they would make a deal, considering no price sticker and the chips and illegible stamp. No serious collector would be interested, and I would much rather give it a home than see it dumped.
I offered them $15. And now it’s mine.
(Of note, a nearly-identical one is available on eBay for $68.77.)
If I’m being honest, I almost walked away. But then the lines from my poem “Crazed Collection” ran through my head. Because my collection—the act of collecting, as well as the objects themselves—is not about seeking perfection or completion; it’s about reclamation. It’s about finding and bringing home pieces of my family that have been scattered. I want them so I can remember what I have never known.
Crazed Collection This piece, representing a green cabbage or lettuce leaf, has a bright red lobster claw to provide interest…There are no chips, cracks, dings, scratches, etc. There is the usual amount of crazing.. . The backside is marked Brad Keeler. This super piece... may fill that void in your lobsterware collection. —Ad found on E-Bay Glazed eyes gaze into the infinite distance on the open shelving in my kitchen. Earthen elements molded into lobsters and leaves form a frieze of my dead grandfather's work. On the open shelving in my kitchen I've arranged his platters, casseroles, and bowls. A frieze of my dead grandfather's work, these crazed green-garnished, blood-threaded dishes. I've arranged his platters, casseroles, and bowls. Imperfections longed for: cracks, dings and scratches. These crazed green-and-garnet glazed dishes have found a home amid my homely kitchen's imperfection. Longing for cracks, dings and scratches, I order imperfect pieces. The damaged find a home in my home's kitchen. Crazed collection elevating the forgotten, I order imperfect pieces-the damaged, disregarded, fill a void in this collection, elevating the forgotten yellowed news-clips, dust-covered photographs. The discarded fill a void in this kitchen, remember what I've never known. Yellowed news-clips, dust-covered photographs, reveal my mother's father. In this kitchen remember what I have never known: earthen elements. Molded into lobsters and leaves, form reveals my mother’s father. In these glazed eyes the infinite distance gazes back.
From Seven Floors Up
I am fascinated by collections too. Thanks for sharing!