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March 28, 2024, 05:42:53 pm
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An agate bottle from Australia

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Author Topic: An agate bottle from Australia  (Read 1686 times)
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Boletus
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Posts: 38


« on: August 05, 2017, 12:16:35 pm »

Every tale needs a title, so we’ll call this one: “The ones that got away... and the one left behind”, or “The half-full, half-empty glass”.
Here is how this tale could begin...
 
“What is a bright, warm, sunny Winter day in Brisbane? Nothing special... it’s just another day in Paradise”.
That is what the protagonist of our story, a Tribal Art collector and soon-to-be snuff bottle enthusiast must have thought when he stepped outside of his father-in-law’s house early in the morning, as he was about to begin his very tough, daily routine of hunting for artefacts in the aforementioned city. (Yes, I know, it is a tough job but someone has to do it, and, by the way, for the sake of story-telling, from now on we will call him “Frank” although that may not be his real name)
The plan today included a visit to one of Frank’s favourite places in Brisbane: an antiques shop in the Woolloongabba area, a real hunting ground if you’re after the quirky, the rare and the unusual.
So, after a few unsuccessful stops in other antiques and second hand shops, Franks finally found himself in front of the familiar roller door that he remembers so well; right in there, waiting for him, there’s the owner of the place, a witty and humorous antiques dealer who is very knowledgeable on Tribal Art as well as other areas like Asian Art and collectables. (Again, for the sake of story-telling, from now on we will call him “Adrian” although that actually may be his real name...)
 
“Good day Adrian, how are you mate?”
“Frank my brother, so good to see you, do you have a lot of cash on you?”
“Never enough my friend, never enough for you!”... and after the usual hand shake and hug, Frank eagerly walked in.
 
The store was exactly as Frank remembered it: a large, 200- 300 square-metre warehouse, an ex factory unit with very high ceilings and no skylights, very dark, stuffed with old furniture and glass cabinets, with that unique smell of what’s old and stale: the smell of treasures demanding to be found! Frank was more than happy to lend a hand with that if needed...!
He walked straight to this particularly long and narrow desk right at the entrance, which is normally the place where Adrian displayed most of his Tribal Art pieces, let’s say the average ones.
This time there were unfortunately no interesting artefacts to be found there, and after a short examination of a large collection of Highlands shields (from Papua New Guinea, not from Scotland...), Frank placed his last hopes of finding something exciting in what he knew as the last resort: the dealer’s private office, a place that was off limits for the average customer, but that through the many years of doing business together Frank had acquired the privilege to gain access to. (Well, at least this is the way Frank liked to see it... he’ll never know if this was true or not!)
Again, no luck in there too... apart from a rather interesting but expensive Solomon Islands ceremonial wand, from the Fleishmann collection, there was nothing really worth buying.
(... and that feeling of disappointment that Frank knew all too well begun to grow in his spleen...)
 
“My friend, I don’t know, I’ll have to think about that one... please let me take a look at your Asian Art pieces as well”.
“Of course mate, you know the way”, said Adrian.
So Frank left the office and went straight deeper into the darkest area of the warehouse, right at the bottom left, just after the Italian section. (Yes, Adrian liked Italian antiques too!)
As always there were plenty of interesting pieces, Chinese porcelain vases and plates, Cinnabar boxes, Japanese Inro and netsuke, but apart from a really intriguing (but too expensive for Frank’s pockets) Meiji period ivory netsuke of an Oni carrying a large pouch on his back, nothing really exciting was to be found there.
(... and that feeling of disappointment almost reached the dangerous zone...)
 
“Look mate, any chance you have some good old snuff bottles to show me?”
“Ha! Funny you should mention that because as a matter of fact later this afternoon (it was around 11 am at that time) a private collector is going to bring in a few bottles he needs to sell for personal reasons... would you like to be the first one to see them, by any chance? No worries if you don’t...!”
(... and that feeling of disappointment... What feeling of disappointment? I’m in treasure-hunting Heaven right now!)
 
So, after deciding to set the meeting at 3 pm that afternoon, Frank left the place with a lighter heart, an empty stomach, and a big expectation for what was awaiting him later on.
The light outside seemed even brighter, now it was time to go and get some food (Chinese restaurant of course!) before facing the next adventure!
At 3 pm sharp Frank returned to the warehouse where Adrian was waiting for him with a cunning smile on his face: “Mate, if you gave me another five minutes I could have finished the bottles I was carving for you in the back of my shop!”
“No worries mate, if you’re that good you can carve some for me anytime you want!”... and after the usual hand shake and hug, Frank moved toward the back of the large desk at the entrance.
Adrian soon joined him with what appeared to be a small packet made of embroidered silk. He put it on the desk and unrolled it open, unveiling six or seven snuff bottles: a blue overlay snowflake ground glass bottle, a green jade one, perhaps two agate ones (Frank seems to be a little vague on that) and perhaps one in porcelain and one in enamel over brass.
Unfortunately that is as precise as Frank can be in regard to that event, we must forgive him... perhaps all those years of fast-lane living and too much drinking have now taken their toll.
 
Now, this is a good time to diverge a little from the main story and learn a bit more about Frank’s interest in snuff bottles: as we know he’s a long-time knowledgeable collector of Tribal Art and artefacts and of other collectables (Netsuke included) but he is not a connoisseur of Chinese Art and certainly not of snuff bottles.
So where does his interest come from?
Is it something that happened by chance, by the fortuitous, random encounter with some examples which unleashed an interest that eventually grew to a passion?
Or is it perhaps something even deeper, on a more unconscious level, a lingering feeling, something that has always been there but never really revealed itself until now?
Deep somewhere in his memory he has this image of his father sitting behind the desk in his study, saying to a very young Frank (he must have been four or five at the time) “Look at this small spoon I’m carving, out of ivory, is for my little jade bottle”. Frank remembers that his father treasured that little jade object, and perhaps that is the spark of his very personal connection to snuff bottles.
Or perhaps there is another episode that could have influenced the unconscious: in 1988 (or 1989... please remember Frank’s memory is a little week...) when he was about twenty-one or twenty-two, he went to China on a month-long tour with an International Ballet Company, and clearly remembers a magical place in Shanghai called “The Mandarin’s Garden” (need I say more about his memory...?) where there was a small antiques shop from which he bought a little present for his father. (Could it be possible that he remembered his father’s passion for small Chinese objects?)
From the very little he and the shop owner could understand of each other, Frank remembers that the object was described as something like “a bottle for perfume or essence...”
The small object was a ceramic bottle, of pillar form, and of light green/aquamarine colour. It most likely was a snuff bottle, and Frank now wishes he’d be given the chance to have another look at it.
Whatever the episode that branded Frank’s unconscious (the first, the second, or perhaps both?) it is important to underline that even though Frank’s passion is evidently genuine and intense, his knowledge isn’t sufficient enough to avoid banal mistakes when judging the age and quality of a bottle.
This had to be made clear now because of what is about to happen...
 
Back to the main story.
So there is Frank, with those six or seven bottles in front of him and not enough knowledge to say right away which one could be a good one, if anyone at all.
The clock starts... now.
To be honest, his initial impression was good, those examples were by far the best he had seen in his trip, but again that was just an impression and nothing more.
Unfortunately that day he didn’t have a loupe with him (never really had one before) and could not rely on more objective facts, that is if he would have been able to recognise them anyway!
Basically, his initial excitement now turned into pressure... his heart pumping, his eyes tired, well... you know the drill.
“Oh boy, what do I do now... that one on the left seems really old, or perhaps the one in the centre is the best, at least that one is made of precious material... but who am I kidding... I thought it would have been easier.... Yes honey, I’m coming! Bloody hell, I have to go now... what should I do... Perhaps I should... Yeah I heard you the first time, I’m coming”!
The momentum is gone.
It is a little like when re-emerging from a deep dive underwater you open your mouth just a fraction too soon, and instead of your long-awaited breath of fresh air you end up swallowing salty water that then goes straight in your stomach and lungs, clearly clouding your judgement, to use a euphemism... Not a pretty thing!
Am I exaggerating a little...? Perhaps, but this is story-telling after all!
Anyway, it will give you an idea of Frank’s emotional state. A wreck. Not a happy camper at all.
“Look Adrian, I’m sorry but I must go now... if possible I’ll try to come back with more time on my hands to take a second look at the bottles and then decide...”
“Yes mate, but I have to tell you that later on today I have a couple of interested collectors coming to check these bottles, therefore I cannot guarantee you that they’ll be here when you return”.
“No worries mate, I’m sure you can carve another three or four just for them, to keep them happy!” With that said, Frank left, perhaps thinking: “Yeah mate, nice try with that one! The oldest trick in any dealer’s book, trying to put pressure on a client mentioning some mysterious interested collector who should come next...”
Well, that’s probably what he thought while walking to the car where his wife and father-in-law were waiting for him.
 
One week went by since his visit to Adrian’s shop, a week full of nice Tribal Art finds, including a marvellous pair of 19th C. Solomon Islands dancing shields, which came out of a second hand shop.
But that’s another story.
Instead, Frank couldn’t stop thinking about those bottles, searching all the possible information on internet that could help him be more prepared for what he called “the next round”!
Well, little did he know, there wasn’t going to be a next round!
That day Frank decided to go back to Adrian’s place to see the bottles once again, and after some delicate but intense moral suasion to convince his father-in-law to give him a lift back to the shop, he found himself once again in front of that familiar quirky smile, by the roller door.
“Mate, you should have called me to let me know you were coming, I didn’t have the time to carve anything new for you my friend!”
“Ah, that’s alright... I guess I’ll stick to the ones you made for me last time... Are they still there on the back of the desk?” Frank asked while quickly heading towards the inside of the shop.
“Mate, unfortunately I have sold those bottles to the people who came after you that day, they said that they were very good and bought them all... except one I think”.
(... and that feeling of disappointment is now back with a vengeance, for its second round, looking great and in good shape...)
 
Ok, what can we say... that happens right? Frank, eat a spoon of cement and get on with your life... didn’t you say that that was “just another day in Paradise”?
“Hey Frank, can you hear me? Anyone in there? It’s your brain reminding you that Adrian said that there is probably one bottle left from that group... Hello? Do you copy?”
Even though the warehouse by now looked even gloomier than usual (or perhaps exactly because of this) Frank suddenly woke up from his state of self-pity, and decided to go on living. (Frank is a bit melodramatic you know...)
“So which one is the one they left behind? This agate one? Yes? Ok, let’s take a good look at it, not only do I have the time today, but I also bought a loupe too!”
Needless to say, making another long part of the story short, Frank studied this bottle for half-an-hour, carefully holding it in his hands, feeling the warmth or “mana” of it. (This is the exact word Frank used, taken from the world of Tribal Art which may be translated as “power”, “intrinsic spirit” or something like that, related to an object and the psychic energy it inherited from its owners)
The conclusion of this week in Frank’s life as a snuff bottle collector (and of this story as a whole!) is that he obviously ended up owning that bottle, an object he now likes very much and that is growing on him together with his passion for snuff bottle collecting, an object that became the first find in that trip, and perhaps the second bottle he ever bought, after the ceramic one in China, a long time back.
 
So, what did we learn tonight, Greg...? (Unnecessary quotation from a TV show...)
Is the glass half full or half empty?
How do we rate Frank’s first real experience with the world of snuff bottles? Can we say that it was a very exciting time?
Or should it go down as a mistake, just an error in what is called “the learning curve”?
Why did the other couple buy all the bottles except one? Was it because it is a modern bottle which ended in the group by mistake?
Or is it possible that perhaps that couple actually left the best one out, by mistake? Were they really knowledgeable collectors... or not?
And do all these questions matter in any way?
Probably Frank’s answer to this would be summarized simply with one expression: “Boia d’un mond leder!” (Try to google that one!)
 
In the end, here is where we part ways.
I wish I could tell you more about the really important part of that trip, the one and only thing Frank sought and found, the spark which turned itself into a...
But that’s another story, my friends!
 
THE END.
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Frank
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