Home, An Object, & Three Voices

If objects could talk...

This one... would tell a tale, a dark tale... of a fair young maiden who thought nothing of happiness because she was happy and knew of little else.

Until... "One day the skies darkened with cloudbursts bearing bad news and torrential rains poured from her eyes washing away the solid ground from where she stood.

Drowning in doubt, she wondered if happiness existed beyond dreams and if yes, would it ever find her again.

For the source of her happiness, a castle that whispered only her name, was besieged and taken from her... forever.

Exiled, from the land and home she loved, without a prince, godmother, or good witch, magic wand, or lucky charms to come to her aid, this damsel, 'in distress', could do nothing but wait, and wait, for... her happy ending."

Truth is, fairytales are not my genre. I don't write fiction.

I write personal essays and this was... is... my life.

Just remove the medieval references, the part about the maiden, (I'm married), and travel several hundred years to modern day times and there you'll find me.

But I'm not the one telling the story... just yet.

If objects could talk...

Same object... different color and voice... the contemporary version.

"So... here's this married 'broad', not yet over the hill', forced from the luv of her life, her rented abode, of like a 'zillion' years, 'cause some big shot new owner wants to build like a 'Trump Tower' and flip it for big bucks.

The thing's still standin'... gutted... abandoned, like totally 'ghetto'... seven years later. Go figure. Both building and 'broad' are bummed... like smiley faces with their frowns upside down. Big time Boo Hoo.

Yadda, yadda, blah, blah and more blah.

Fast forward to... after years of checkin' out real estate and whining, and feeling like a 'guest' in her current 'crib', the 'cookie' has finally found and bought a place of her own. The 'moolah' laid out almost three years ago to the day. This could be 'the one'... the building of her dreams... the answers to her prayers... her happy ending, IF... her husband, 'Mr. Perfection', her knight in shining armor', ever gets movin' with the rehab. Puhleeze... in this lifetime, man. Do us all a favah.

Every now and then, I take a gander at this 'gal' pinchin' herself to see if the transaction she made was real or all in her noggin'. Poor kid. I say, Forget the pinchin'... close those peepers, click those tootsies together three times and repeat... "There's no place like home," and make like Dorothy, in the Wizard of Oz. Maybe some funnel cloud will lift you up... poof!... and drop you into a 'flat' that's FINISHED, instead of the one you got now that's just a shell. I'm just tryin' ta help.

Tired and antsy, the 'Missus' waits, dreams, and occasionally shops.

That's where she found me... in JC Penney of all places.

People do shop at Penney, just not our little 'princess', who hasn't stepped foot in the place for over 30 years, after being 'dissed' once by customer service. Talk about principles!

Then Ron Johnson, hits the scene, the new hot shot, CEO or somethin', the one who made 'Apple' and that 'Genius Bar' a big thing in the retail biz... the guy who was VP of Target and is now runnin' the show at J.C.'s. He moved mountains and got our 'principled princess' back into his store. Turns out she likes his  'square deal' schtick and commercials.

Anyway... she honed in on me in Home Goods. It was luv at first sight. She laid down a 'fiver' and I was all hers... five bucks, a cheap date, in today's 'ekco-nom-ic' times.

Now, I 'chill' on her nightstand next to whos-its whats-its... you know who, Mr. Atomic somethin', her alarm clock. So me and 'the sweetie' wait. I wait for her next ah-choo, and she, for a home who knows her name and a life of happily evah aftas.

Ahh...whatta story...D End."

Not quite...

It's my turn...the one who publishes this blog.

Impulse!

Impulsively, I bought this tissue holder, Casa, the white one, by Umbra. He was quirky, attractive, symbolic of 'HOME', and the equivalent cost of a frozen yogurt from U-Swirl. You wouldn't know this, except for my few closest friends, but I give the objects I buy, both genders and names. In this case, 'Casa', the name that came with the product, was perfect... simplicity in a single word that means house.

On a scale of 1 to 10, I'd score 'Casa' a '10' for aesthetics and an '8' for function. The house fits loosely over a square box of tissues, which is good for replacements and not so good if your sneeze comes on suddenly. Sometimes it takes two hands to maneuver... one hand to steady the house, keeping it from moving across the table or shelf, and the other for yanking out tissues, before germs spread everywhere. Minor or major point, it's your call.

Michael made it a point of saying gray tissues would look good, as they'd mimic the color of soot coming from the chimney. Who makes gray tissues? Who would want them? And haven't we already improved on pollution emissions?

It reminds me of a time in my early twenties when I wanted black sheets. What was I thinking? Obviously, I wasn't, and placed my white sheets into a bucket of black dye... only they came out gray the color of smoke and soot.

During my 'dyeing' days, I worked for Gordon-Davis Linen Service.  I distributed fresh white sheets to dorm students and collected the soiled ones at the end of the week, which looked quite colorful from students using them as rags to clean their paintbrushes.

Today, I prefer white sheets and the look and feel of a white down comforter.

Speaking of white bedding and Home Goods...

You may or may not know, that back in 1878, in Philadelphia, PA, John Wanamaker pioneered the concept of the department store and coined the term 'White Sale' selling bed linens at a discount to increase sales in January, when sales were low and sheets only came in white.

And here I assumed the white in 'White Sales' referred to the color of snow and the huge amounts of it we get on the east coast particularly during the month of January. Perhaps, it should be called January Gray Sales according to Michael's theory on pollution or January 'Rainbow Sales' from dorm student creations.

Coincidently, days after buying 'Casa', I came across these images by Ion Zupcu, called 'American Homes'. Some of his photos were shown recently in a group show titled: "More Photos About Buildings And Food" at Gallery 339 in Philadelphia.

'Folk', 'Saltbox' and 'Dutch Colonial' are the three styles of homes shown above.

What thoughts do you have about 'HOME'?

Do you have a favorite object that speaks to you? What does it say?

Are you in search of a happy ending? What's your wish?

Here are a few links you might find interesting:

'Making a Happy House', a brief interview with Alain de Botton here.

'If These Street Items Could Talk', works by Tineke Meirink here.

DIY stories from New Zealand here.

I know I showed this short Dutch video in a previous post, but it comes to mind whenever I think of objects and good advertising. Wait for it to load then watch it here.

"Home is So Sad", a poem by Philip Larkin here.

'Walking House' by Laurie Simmons

"Every home is a dwelling, but not every dwelling can be home."

'Casa', a tissue please, sniffle, sniffle... I don't know whether to laugh or cry.

Nightstand & Time

On the nightstand beside my bed, sits my SKY SCAN... a small atomic clock.

Whenever I reach for it and press the slim bar at the top, it lights up a lovely luminous shade of blue... displaying the time and day, abbreviated in two letters. A colon (:) flashes between the digital numbers of the hour and minutes, letting me know the clock is working, which is my understanding, not necessarily its intended purpose.

I like this clock. What it lacks in aesthetics, it makes up for in function and fits nicely in the palm of my hand. It's metallic in color, but totally plastic and keeps precise time by automatically syncing itself each day to NIST, National Institute of Standards, the official US atomic clock located in Boulder, Colorado. Atomic! The name alone sounds impressive and terribly dangerous, as in... "Wake up to my alarm now or be blown to bits." Kaboom!

Thankfully, I've managed to survive the Mayan Prophecy for the end of the world on December 21, 2012 and the previously predicted disaster for May 5, 2000, when the earth's polar ice caps were expected to melt and send our planet spinning off its axis.

While I do appreciate my hardworking, reliable little timekeeper, I would definitely consider trading it in for a model that's more attractive, creative, and less dangerous, like one of these...

Designed by Sebastian Wrong, The Font Clock is based on a flip-type mechanism that uses twelve different type faces with precision provided by Grayson Time Management, the company that provides accurate time for institutions like the London Stock Exchange.

The 'QLOCKTWO' by Biegert & Funk is available as a wall unit, desk model or watch. Instead of numbers, this clock spells out the time with words. The face of the 'QLOCKTWO TOUCH' is made of acrylic glass, which can be quickly exchanged for another color to suit your mood, or another language. With colors like Black Ice Tea (black), Vanilla Sugar  (white), Cherry Coke (red), Frozen Blackberry (violet), Lime Juice (green), Blue Candy (blue), and Dark Chocolate (brown), it would be hard to choose just one, though black is always classic.

As a child, I don't recall having an alarm clock. I don't remember anyone in our house having an alarm clock, but that's just my memory or lack of it. In fact, I have no recollection of a morning routine, if there was one, where everyone got up at the same time and got ready for work or school.

I do recall our kitchen clock.

It was a Kit-Cat Clock, black, with big eyes that moved from side to side and a pendulum tail that swayed to the beat of time. I loved that cat. It was a gift from my grandmother who also bought the same clock for herself, in pink. Pink would have been my choice. Choosing to buy these clocks seemed quite out of character for my grandmother who was very loving, generous, and dear to me, but lacked what I'd call a 'kooky' sense of humor.

I've since learned that these clocks, designed by Earl Arnault, during the Great Depression, were made in hopes of bringing levity to difficult times. For the past 50 years, these popular clocks have sold at the rate of one every three minutes! I'm sure you can see why... they're adorable.

The models from the 1930's through 50's had two paws while the newer models have four paws and a bow tie! Today's clocks run on batteries whereas our model had an electric cord that had to be plugged into an outlet.

Which may explain why, whenever the power went out, someone always reached for the phone and dialed ME 7-1212. I can't believe that number still floats inside my head. Long gone is the 'Time Lady' and her voice on the other end of the line saying, "At the tone the time will be"... filling in the correct time as in... "Five o'clock and five minutes" (long pause)... "Five o'clock and six minutes" (another long pause)... continuing until all our clocks, watches, and other timely devices were recalibrated.

I find the whole concept of time intriguing.

Several years back, Michael and I saw a fascinating exhibition in Florida at the Miami Art Museum titled, 'Marking Time: Moving Images'. 10 artists were represented with 16 installations all dealing with the passage of time. The piece that totally captured my senses was a video... three projections of spinning tops, called 'A Morir', (Till Death), by Miguel Angel Rios... running time approximately 5 minutes.

The subject matter was based on 'trompos', a Mexican neighborhood street game played with spinning tops, where as many thirty people of different ages played at the same time. Shown in a black room, the video, void of any people, concentrated on the tremendous force of spinning tops, colliding into one another, scraping and bouncing across a white grid on the pavement and the boisterous sounds they produced.

The other show, at The Delaware Center of Contemporary Art, was titled: 'Obsessive Drawing', and included 18 artists and 39 works, both abstract and figurative. Artist William Anastasi, a friend of John Cage, did these quirky pieces based on chance, called 'Subway Drawings', done while riding a subway train. With paper on his lap, a pen or pencil in each hand, eyes closed or focused on the floor, Anastasi would let the movement of the train create the marks for his drawing, which became finished once he reached his destination. The time, name of person he was meeting, or the location, was then recorded on the bottom of the drawing.

This morning my clock read 8:31 TU (Tuesday).

I expected to sleep longer having stayed up late to watch: the ball drop on Times Square, fireworks in Philadelphia, and folks skating, at the RiverRink at Penn's landing... watched not through means of time travel, but on my television screen with hubby beside me.

Time to get up and begin this first day of the new year. 

I'm curious... Do you have your own story to tell about time? Or perhaps you own an object you appreciate, but would consider trading for another.

In the meantime, here are a few links you might find interesting:

Watch a few seconds of Yugo Nakamura's 'Industrious 2001' Clock here.

20 Things You Didn't Know About Time here.

Why if you're staying in a New York hotel you shouldn't stay in a room numbered 1212 here.

An odd thread from a dream forum that had me chuckling here.

Although some of this recording is in Dutch, watch Miguel Angel Rios and one of his spinning top videos here.

Watch William Anastasi drawing on a train here.

Here's wishing you a Happy, Healthy, and Prosperous

New Year!

XOX... Dyan