We’ve spent a lifetime of addressing the quandary of what is the best next home for quality art or collectables…museums or personal collections.
That’s a tough call, but I thought again about the idea when I visited an estate sale today that was the home of a collector. Beautiful Kachinas, Arrowheads, Baskets, books, and other Native American and Intuit pieces were everywhere and I visited second day, so lord only knows what I missed.
I love an estate sale and being the first one through the door, but at this stage in the game of life, I’ve let go of the competitiveness so that push of adrenalin is just not the great fun feeling it used to be. So many times that second day with its deep discounts is more my style. It’s the hunt I’m after and I love the interaction with other discount seekers.
I found some cool primitive kachinas that called my name, a horseshoe magazine rack (I love welded horseshoe anything), a box of Anasazi pottery shards, and a great stack of dollar books on subjects ranging from a Comanche Medicine Woman’s story to Pueblo Pottery to a story about an old Yuma Adobe prison.
I ran into a friend who I rarely get to see but always really enjoy her. She’s a confident woman collector who exudes badassness and always inspires me.
I also got to see a guy go bonkers about a reversible fur coat in our touch of Summer weather and he was buying everything from Chinese lamps to a sequined tennis cap (I secretly wanted it) and he stuffed it all in his Chevy Tahoe while he had such fun that it radiated off him. I wanted to be his friend and as I was leaving arms loaded I found a tool I needed for $2 which caused me to squeal and this new unnamed friend bought it for me.
But it is the man I met in the book room which smelled high dose of cat that touched me. He was truly hunting for a bargain and as I talked him into reaching for something high on a shelf, he told me of his friendship with the man who left these earthly treasures behind.
The collector loved the act of collecting and sharing his things and knowledge with friends. He would invite this man over and show him his newest find. In recent months prior to the man passing, when they crossed paths he would invite the man over to pick out something he wanted. This man I met regretted not ever following through with the invitation and said he has great memories of the love this collector had for his things. He said after the man died, his wife talked with a couple of dealers and a museum about the collection, but whatever they had to offer did not feel right to his wife, so here we are at the estate sale.
At this moment of hearing how the collector had touched this man, I couldn’t imagine this collection going to a museum or any one person. Myself and this man were going to treasure each memory made based on this man and his collection.
I hope the collector’s spirit was able to feel the joy his collecting and his collection were creating. The people I met and encountered were all people who were obviously the best new care takers of his passions. No doubt in my mind on this one.