My friend cracked me up the other day when she said she didn't like Garfield Place in Park Slope because it reminds her of the cartoon cat. It reminds me more of the president, even though I know nearly nothing about him. I have a feeling I'd know so much more about America if I were from Germany, where this country takes on the attraction of a massive and compelling curio.
I wasn't going to take the whole thing, the apothecary drawer that had been turned into a tschszchchkotcke shelf. At first I only took the small brass ash can, and then the little brass chamber pot too, then the milk bottle, and then all the tiny fairy goblets painted with tiny butterflies. And then the tiny plates. And then I took the whole thing. So I carried it with me to work in Manhattan and back, while the wire strung from eye screw to screw pleasantly tried to make a rut through my fingers.
How often do I get a substantial whiff of Joseph Cornell meets Guy Maddin on a beautiful Light in August morning. Sigh. It was not sad music at all, it was much more like singing... Ricola!
5 comments:
I think that's actually a drawer from a type case. Each of those little sections would have a pile of a single letter of type. Separate ones for upper case, etc.
You are indispensable.
I highly recommend the experience of hand-setting type. The Center for Book Arts has classes.
that's the second time someone's talked to me about handmade books in the last 24 hours, so maybe I should listen. but I'm a little reluctant since I assume there's no automatic spell check function.
Do you know if I was right in calling that thing in the picture an ash can?
If you're not right in calling it an ash can, then we're wrong in using the old tin thing, shaped exactly like that, for carrying the ashes when we clean them out of our woodstove in Canada. It came with the cottage when we bought it, and it was sitting next to the woodstove.
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