In my childhood living room, we had a painting of a ship on a storm-tossed sea hanging for a good 15 years; I don’t know where my mom got it, but I’m guessing it was from one of those starving-artist sales. In college, I moved on to movie posters; in my first apartment in New York, a big ol’ framed Hopper that a friend gave us when he moved. My first apartment here in San Francisco was decorated with my own photographs. And then I moved in with RocketMan, who took hanging stuff on walls to a new level (for me, anyway).
We have some lovely Real Artwork—photographs that were bought and paid for. But that’s not what this blog is about. This blog’s about vernaculars, and I don’t mean pidgin English. RocketMan worked at a photo show every year for about ten years, and in a photography gallery back in the 90s. I loved visiting the shows, seeing all the big, $25,000 photographs, the staged and the candids alike, but my favorites were always digging through the vernacular boxes. “Vernacular” is a word photography folk have co-opted to describe “Random old photos we found and can sell for $250 a pop.” No one knows who’s in them; no one might even know who took them. They’re just leftovers from someone’s family album. They’re often of the family in front of the new car, or the family in front of the lake house, or something equally staged, but occasionally, you’ll get a little gem that captures a moment, and with great composition, to boot. The concept was new to me; we didn’t hang old photographs unless they were big 8x10s taken in a formal studio. The rest went into photo albums and shoeboxes.
Other People’s Memories The $250-$500 photos tend to also come matted and framed, so if you’re willing to do a little legwork, you can save yourself some cash. Every antique store has a box of vernaculars somewhere, usually priced at about $1 a photo. I can’t keep my fingers out of these boxes, and I tend to buy three or four at a time, knowing that at least one of them will appeal to RocketMan’s aesthetic and eventually end up hanging somewhere in the apartment. I especially love this little photo:two little girls, hanging out on the front porch, probably roundabout the 1930s or so. (We think it’s from the Alameda Flea Market.) RM mounted the photo on blue felt, nested it in a pre-cut mat bought at Pearl art, framed it, and bang: a unique piece of wall art. |
Crack Open the Photo Album The best news? If you don’t want to go digging through someone else’s photos, dig through your own. This photo was taken during the snowstorm of 1977, and it’s of my dad and me in the backyard. (I’m in the pink. I’m guessing this was taken before I fell off a swingset, through several layers of ice, and ended up in the ER bloodied and crying.) Get some clear plastic tabs, a pre-cut mat, a frame, and we have our own framed vernacular, priceless, and all ours. |
For a Rainy Day Here are a few of my favorites from our “to be framed” file. Clockwise, starting from upper left: My paternal grandfather performing in an acrobat troupe; an antique-store-bought photo of an old guy I just like; another antique-store purchase of two ladies in the 40s; my paternal great-grandfather and his brothers; my maternal grandfather; and my dad as a toddler. Someday we’ll get those framed, hung, and all arted up. As a final thought, RocketMan wanted to give props to Mary Jane Appel, to whom he gives most of his credit for decorating ideas. She’s a photo historian and craftsman, and for an especially lovely use of vernacular photography, check out her jewelry and lamps—wearable and illuminated art. |
