Andrew Kay: The glass menagerie
My recent moves have made me very aware of the clutter that fills my life. As my good friend Mr M said, “Dust gatherers! Sell the lot!” Harsh words I thought, and ones that I ignored I am pleased to say, although the reality of his statement did ring true. Funnily enough it made me rationalise my posessions and re-look at the way that I display them, and in doing so it seemed that I managed to create new space.
Now, I love space, but I’m not one for the cool ‘minimal’ look that is so fashionable. Not me, no! I like things too much to be forever clearing things away into cupboards and drawers to facilitate that stark interior so loved by the hip and trendy.
My collections fill me with joy; my large assembly of Susie Cooper incised studio ware circa 1932 to 1937 is a rainbow of ceramic wonder, that for many years has had me stalking the flea markets and boot fairs of the county and beyond.
Sadly, now, those precious pots command precious prices and many are way beyond my pocket. I do from time to time find a bargain, but not as I used to, and my collector’s itch is seldom scratched by Ms Cooper any more.
My friend Ms McD recently persuaded me to take a trip to the Brighton Marina boot fair. It was a Sunday morning and I had little else planned, so I joined her on her regular jaunt.
“As my good friend Mr M said, “Dust gatherers! Sell the lot!” …”
It was quite literally years since I had last been to a boot fair, but little seemed to have changed. There were trestle tables packed with tat and trestle tables packed with treasures. I find it easy to discern which is which; the tat usually includes cheap plastic toys and baby clothes and the treasures look like they have been culled from the homes of the recently departed. It is, of course, the latter that I prefer. To my surprise there are now stalls held by the discerning who have already been through the dead people’s stuff and decided what merits the title ‘mid-century modern’. Here, the stuff I like has been cleaned and awarded a higher price tag. Why not? They put in the effort I guess.
That first visit I found a beautiful heavy glass vase: 1960 Sklo Union. I paid the price and took it home. Online, I did a little research, and found that Czech glass was ‘the next big thing’. Interesting I thought, but not that interesting!
A week later I went back, and this time found a huge Whitefriars glass vase in bottle green with strings of tiny bubbles in neat vertical lines and a rim that was gently undulating. I fell in love with it and when I was told it was a mere £20 I snapped it up. I was hooked. Glass would be my next thing, which is highly appropriate as I come from the home of British glass, St Helens.
For weeks now I have been hunting it down and I have to confess that Sklo Union is my new love; already I have amassed around 15 pieces. They sit in my window, and as the sun passes they reflect and refract the light in myriad ways. So far they are clear glass and various blues, greens and yellows. But as I write I can hear a man on the steps with a delivery, which I hope is my most recent find, a glass bowl in a deliciously vibrant purple. Yes, delivery; my new obsession takes me to Ebay each day where, if I am not hunting for new pieces, I am wacthing the bids on items that I am hoping to snaffle.
Ebay is the boot fair of the internet and can be great fun. It could also be very dangerous, so I have constructed a strict set of rules. I have a fixed budget over which I will not bid. I do not buy items that I already have examples of, and I only buy from UK sellers. A quick look at the delivery charges for overseas purchases will tell you why.
So a new level of clutter has invaded my existence – but mock ye not – it could be much worse … it could be a pug, or a chihuahua, then I would have to start collecting handbags.
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