Oct 24 2002
Pictures
I have put up all the pictures I brought home with me from England. Well, there were only two, so perhaps it’s not such a great accomplishment after all. But one of them had the glass broken on the flight home from London, so I had to get that replaced. I fell and scraped the hell out of my knee on the way to the framing store and I’m still recovering. The picture, however, is fine. In fact, it never looked better (unlike my knee).
It now has new glass, UV proofed just in case, and the part of the frame which was slightly separated has been fixed. The old backing, which was ill-fitting wood veneer hammered in with miscellaneous nails, has been replaced by foam core and covered with clean brown paper. The old and knotted string it hung by has been replaced by picture wire. I have to admit that I feel a slight pang at losing the messed up original state of it, since Dad either got it that way or made it that way, but if I’m going to take proper care of it, it had to be done. The framer told me that the painting, a watercolor of a Scottish stream, is actually glued to the mat. Dad bought it when he was 12 or 13 (in 1943 or 1944) and it cost a shilling. I have always loved it, but all the same, I wish I didn’t have it. It should be still hanging in Dad’s study in Wimbledon, where he should be busily working or watching birds in the garden.
The framer also said that she often finds odd things when she opens up pictures like that. She has found dead bugs (some so old that they fell to powder when they fell out); letters; newspaper clippings; and even photographs. Sometimes there are other pictures on the back of the framed one.
The other picture is one we bought at auction together. It is supposed to be an etching by Manet. I can’t remember what he paid for it, but it was definitely more than a shilling. It says in French, “Painted and engraved by Manet” and has a signature in the corner. I have no idea what, if anything, it’s worth, but I just like it. It’s an old man wearing an elegant tie, or possibly cravat, and I find both the man and the tie charming.
When the 250 year old grandfather clocks arrives here, I’ll get it appraised, and I’ll have them look at the other things which may be valuable, like the Manet etching, the Wedgwood, and the Royal Doulton vase dedicated to Lord Nelson which says, “England expects every man to do his duty.” Part of me hopes that they are worth something so I can get all excited in an Antiques Roadshow kind of way, and part of me hopes they won’t, because then the cost of insurance will go up. But the monetary value of these objects isn’t what really matters. What really matters is that they belonged to my father, who loved them, and who loved me.