Whenever I enter a second hand store or flea market, I can't help but notice old photographs and pictures that are in old frames. The other day, I picked up two identical gold wooden frames to put up some art I that I have on a wall in my bedroom, a layout of twenty or so odd pictures and photos... all in old frames.
When I took out one of the prints, a copy of the famous Blue Boy painting by Thomas Gainsborough, I thought about the time when this frame and print was put together. Who was it for? Who was the person that cut the glass or chose the print? Where was this store? Were they also mounting posters for war bonds, asking the public to support the fight in Europe against the Nazis? Or was it during the fifties, the era of Life magazines, Frigidaire and Cadillac automobiles that had wings and massive chromium bumpers. Where did the image hang? On some wall in a suburban house or in an old turn-of- the-century apartment, in the hallway or in a bedroom? How did it end up in that second hand store? Was it from a box that a dutiful daughter packed up the last of her parent's belongings from the family home, after the last remaining parent either passed away or moved to a senior's institution? As I took out the nicotine stained glass, the paper matte was brown and flaked away. I wondered in how many more quick years would someone else perhaps find this same frame, and perhaps think about this time, fifty years from now, how it must have been, when there was a war on terror and i-pods and i-pads were the now quaint gadgets that everyone had.
