The Curious Things that will Find you {The Cabinet of Fairy Tales}

The most unexpected things have always happened in my life.

I have a thought, an idea, and soon thereafter some curious morph of my thought finds its way to me.

Perhaps not exactly as I envisioned, but close.

Sort of like when you dream of someone you have not seen in a long time, and then you run into them the next day or they call.

One time I had a dream about times long ago, where there was a black old Baldwin piano that played like a toy piano, but it was tall and large.

The next day I was at the thrift store and there it was, the piano I had just dreamt about.

I roped in my sister and her friends to help me haul it away.

It was a bit nonsensical, as I already had two other pianos, but it spoke to me, called me.

Strange, but true.

I still have that piano, along with a handful of others, including the French spinet I learned to play on when I was 3.

But I digress.

Fast forward to modern day, a few weeks ago, when I came across a secretary bookcase…

An antique Venetian painted red piece, covered in hand painted stories.

Which was odd given that I had just dreamt about a red secretary bookcase two days prior.

In fact, I still cannot believe this story is true.

A woman was selling this piece that was gifted to her.

There were scant photos, and she said it is in really really bad shape, hence the price.

I thought, for a painter girl like me, this can’t be true.

My heart was a flutter.

Surely this will never happen.

It was late at night when I messaged the woman and she asked me to call her.

We had a wonderful conversation in Spanish, and she told me her daughter was an artist.

For a 15-year-old, her daughter’s work was excellent, as she sent me many photos.

I hung up wondering if this was really happening?

I was nervous and could hardly sleep.

Then…

The next morning at 7 a.m. the woman texted me and said, please call me, I have to speak to you.

Oh boy, I thought, I knew this would happen.

I called her and she proceeded to tell me that photos that were posted did not show the entire piece, and she hadn’t noticed that fact. She said she was very sorry, but she was not going to be able to offer me the piece because it was not presented properly.

You see, in our original conversation I had asked her if it looked as it did in the photos, and she had said yes.

I assumed the top was square because the photo was cut off at the top.

Much like the photo I took below.

So, when she said the top was not in the original photo and it was damaged, I thought, well, it’ll be broken at the top and I can fix it by filling it or something.

I tried to calm myself and said, I am mostly interested in the paint work (which is 100% true), and she said, it needs so much work, and an artist is the only person who could fix this.

She said, let me send you another photo of the top and you can decide.

She was concerned that she would make the long drive to me and I would change my mind upon her arrival. But I told her that would not happen, I would pay her for the piece and the delivery no matter what.

“If you are okay with the cracked state it is in, which is not good, then my husband and I can deliver the piece to you today.”

As I waited for a photo to arrive, something like this came through…

I gasped, I nearly screamed.

I had no idea.

What?!!

Was I really looking at a 19th century Venetian secretary with a sculpture pediment crown molding?

I did not mind one bit about the warped wood, the tattered paint.

The cracks of time and journeys.

Of course I wanted it!

It was the story it told that I was interested in.

When she arrived, she took a key out of her pocket and put it in my hand.

I handed her a stack of art supplies for her daughter that I had tied with a ribbon.

The piece took my breath away.

It was very dirty, with ages of dust, so I meticulously washed it with soft damp cloths.

Yes, it was cracked, chipping and everything in between, but I did not care one bit.

There were old writing papers and envelopes, along with living spiders, inside.

It was in 3 pieces that fit together like a puzzle.

The bookcase sits into the top of the writing desk which sits onto the chest of drawers.

You cannot imagine how I felt when I put the key in and opened the writing desk…

Gasp!

Endless tales untold.

The piece was speaking to me through painted scenes…

My eyes could not believe the details.

The wood in the back is warped and ancient looking.

I love that sort of thing.

Yet on the front it is painted with meticulous details beyond my wildest imagination.

I would love to be able to look back in time, into the workshop of the person painting this piece, and watch them.

Dipping an old antique horsehair brush and running down the sides with gold paint swirls.

I didn’t know where to look first.

Everywhere I turned told a different story, with more detail than the last.

Plus, the most adorable little feet.

I swooned over and over and could not get over the lady in pink with the parrot painting that covers the entire right side of the chest of drawers.

The moment of truth, where to put it.

I never ever question where I will put something, I figure it out later, as I just know when something is to live with me.

And so, I placed it in the center of the conservatory, in front of the windows.

Floating in the room, like a dream.

The dream I saw in my mind’s eye, and the dream it portrays through all of its painted tales.

I picked flowers from the garden, which look beautiful against the red paint.

And now we must take a moment to just peek around.

So many wonderful little painted medallions with scenes inside.

I gasped, I swooned.

Many times.

I happily filled shelves with books and bit and bobs.

I really am at a loss for words at how to describe the curves, the paint, the stories held within.

The right side of the chest of drawers has the parrot woman which I shared above, whilst the left side has the maiden below gathering fruit in her baskets.

It is beautiful from afar, but then up close the details are astounding.

Poppy sits across from the piece and secretly marvels at it, I’m sure, haha.

(She likely wonders what the heck is wrong with this woman?)

I sit with my books, quietly admiring every inch, and tucking my key away safely.

I put a little tassel on it, so I won’t lose it.

As I type this story to you, it still feels a bit surreal.

I wish I could have taken better photos for you, but the windows backlit the piece and it was difficult to get a really nice photo.

This happened several weeks ago, and I am still pinching myself.

I, of course, do not mind that the piece is tattered, as it adds more charm in my opinion.

A sign of the life it has lived.

It has a very faded tag glued to the back of the wood, stating that it was made in Italy, but it is difficult to read the rest.

I have a few antique Venetian pieces, and they are all chipped, showing the white plaster or gesso that was used to cover the wood before the painting would happen.

This is totally normal and does not bother me at all.

I am still blown away by the workmanship and the artistry that went into painting this secretary bookcase and feel pure admiration for the artwork.

I hope that you were entertained by my fairy tale.

I would LOVE to hear if you have a story about a wonderfully curious find you have made.

When I was a child, I did not know that antique stores existed.

We had a home with 80’s new things, a lot of MTV and Nickelodeon. There were some fancy interesting pieces, but mostly new.

My parents took us traveling quite a lot and that is where I began to learn about old things, which I had an immensely deep draw to.

I grew up spending my summers and a huge part of my life in California, where I would get to spend a lot of time staying at the Hotel Del Coronado.

As a very young girl I remember being in awe of the dark wood in the lobby, and all the thick painted white wood everywhere.

That hotel became our home away from home and deeply dear to my heart. It was the place, as a baby really, that I became entranced by old places and old things.

I remember when I was a young girl, one summer in particular, that I left our rooms and just explored everywhere in the hotel by myself for the first time, without my parents by my side.

The pianist played in the lobby and all the dark antique furniture gleamed.

The sea air wafted through the corridors and I was forever entranced.

I was there not too long ago and return as often as I can.

Ardent pieces of all my childhood summers there live deep within me.

I tell you this because I can undoubtedly identify this as the beginning of my love for times past and antiques.

The first time I went into an antique store I was a teenager and I could not believe my eyes.

This deep feeling of nostalgia stirred within me, and the scent of old things was like a mysterious familiar scent that beckoned me in.

Now years and years and years later, I feel the exact same way.

The draw of old things fuels me in my daily life.

The thought of finding a treasure, a tale, stirs up something like a faraway memory and butterflies fill my soul.

Certainly, most collectors of old things probably feel the same way.

I am not exactly sure why it happens, but I feel so lucky that I have that in me.

The love of the treasure hunt.

My grandfather had it too, and he would often give me all sorts of treasures.

So, I suppose I just answered my own question.

Why do I feel like most of us here are treasure lovers?

You’ll have to let me know how you feel about the topic.

Alas, I must be on my way.

We are extending our porch at the country house and taking out a creepy old porch room that I will tell you all about soon.

The man helping us build it is here and I must skedaddle.

All my best to you from my neck of the woods, where the desert meets the forest.

Love,

Vanessa