Shall We Gather?

When I visit someone’s home or art studio I am always drawn to the items they collect and the stories of why they collect them.  As I study my own collections I find that some hold a very dear meaning to me, they are reminders of loved ones no longer with us or special moments of the past, and some have merely been stumbled upon finds that have been gathered over time.  Each piece has a past and a story and that is what draws me in and captures my imagination.  While there are many of these gatherings in our home there are a few that I find myself adding to over and over again, and that will remain a part of my life

Aged, worn and well-loved little books and Bibles.  There is something about these little palm sized books, whether in pristine condition or with cracked spines and marked pages, that fascinate me.  They served a purpose and filled a need, they comforted a soldier in a foxhole far from home and facing battle, they filled a purse or a pocket of a little boy or girl as they celebrated a special day, they were carried by a bride as she walked the aisle to be joined to her forever love.  These beautiful little works of art have a history that I can imagine but will never truly know.  When I hold the book or read the pages I become a part of its history, I am touching the past and my act of gathering is preserving for the future.  

Antique glass rosaries and iconic religious pieces.  I will tell you that this is a gathering that I feel strongly in my heart but it is also the one that I, and visitors to our home, have questioned the most.  Some believe this collection is due to my being raised in Louisiana, a very Catholic state; however, I was raised Southern Baptist and converted to Episcopalian in my thirties.  While I did attend many masses with my friends and their families I don’t believe my need to gather these pieces stems from those experiences or my very visible awe when I walked into a cathedral.  My belief is that having these gatherings near me bring a comfort that is felt at a very personal, basic, spiritual level that is not religion specific.  I know, I know, this sounds both profound (possibly) and confusing (absolutely).  In a nutshell, these pieces remind me that there can be peace in chaos, that a Higher Power exists, that I’m never truly alone, that I am loved and that I am worthy.  Simply, they are tangible reminders for times when I need be able to hold hope, courage and promise in my hands. 

Old photographs and antique photo albums.  I love old photographs and my collection includes daguerreotypes, tintypes (of all sizes) and cabinet cards.  When I am lucky enough to stumble upon any of these beauties I am always struck by their artistry, from the poses, the clothing of the period, the elaborate logo of the photographer (sometimes the reverse of the cabinet card holds more interest than the actual photograph) and the actual process of creating the image.  I will admit that I have adopted many of these ancestors as my own because I hate that at some point someone decided they were not worth keeping or that somehow there were separated from their family.  These photographs are also evidence that these beautiful people and memories existed.  They are remembered, even if not by name, or someone who knows exactly who they were or what they believed or what their dreams were.   On any given day you will see me take a multitude of photographs, selfies, the hubby, the fur babies, food, etc., etc., etc., with my smartphone.  We have all become photographers, recording our lives on a phone that fits in the palm of our hand and while this is exciting and amazing I do mourn the thrill of having a roll of film developed and holding the tangible memories in my hands.  

Buttons, old lace and fabric scraps.  These types of collections are very common, in fact just about everyone I know that has magpie tendencies has a collection of old buttons.  While common, I would imagine each of us has their own reasons for gathering these little treasures.  When I think about why I collect these pieces of textile remnants my maternal grandmother always comes to mind.  During her later years she was almost completely blind and when I would come to visit after work she would place the hem or sleeve of my dress in her hands, slowly rub the fabric between her fingers and tell me how beautiful it was.  When I am foraging through a flea market or antique shop and reach to touch a bowl of buttons, or feel the texture of an old apron or dress, my grandmother and that memory fill my mind and my heart.  At home when the need to remember her or to feel her love arises these collections provide a way to have that instant warmth and comfort.  Truthfully, if I was told I could only keep one collection this would be the one.  

I wish I could tell you that these are the only collections I have but I can’t.  I have many collections, some as small as just a few pieces and others much, much larger.  With the restyling of our home many choices will need to be made and many collections will become smaller or will be sent on to new homes.  I would be lying if I said this was not a heartbreaking process but I know that there are others who will love and care for these special pieces as much as I do.

Until next time…..