How (and why) we choose thrift store art
We’re going to come clean right out of the chute on this post:
We are art snobs.
We’ve got some pretty particular ideas about what is and isn’t OK to put on our walls. This might surprise you if you came to our house, because none of our art is the kind of thing you’re likely to find in a gallery.
Our kids generally think our art is “horrible.”
“That’s ugly.”
“Why is that up there?”
“It doesn’t match or go together and it’s just…weird!”
They may be right. But we’ve found that getting clear about what we value in a piece of art is helping us find works we love to have surrounding us–and we’ve been able to do it without spending a fortune.
Where do we find our art?
Some of it is our own stuff. Earlier in his life, Cane was a painter, and some of my favorite works are his.
Obviously, the question of art is much easier to answer if you have a resident artist. I love Cane’s work, and it does adorn many of our walls.
But, Cane isn’t really painting these days, and we also like to have variety in our artwork. So, we have one other main source of art: thrift stores.
We do want to say upfront that finding pieces we love doesn’t happen every trip. In fact, it doesn’t happen often at all. Every time we go to Goodwill or the Salvation Army, we swing by the art section, and we usually leave with nothing.
As I said, we’re snobs–and we see lots of stuff that doesn’t move us (like these paintings we saw last weekend).
Through lots of looking and talking and occasional buying, though, we’ve figured out what it is that makes a piece something we love enough to put on our walls.
1. Craftsmanship
We know our button bird is an unusual piece that not everyone would love. In fact, we stood in front of it for awhile and tried to decide if we thought it was really great or kinda horrible.
The more we looked, the more we liked it. What won us over was the clear care that had been taken in its creation. You can see that the artist used the red buttons like paint; they weren’t just randomly sewn onto the fabric. The stitching is nicely done. The bird and the water were placed onto the canvas of the fabric deliberately and purposefully.
There are a few other reasons we really appreciate this piece, but we’ll get to those below.
2. Patina
For us, patina is anything that gives a piece age. Sometimes it’s wear on the paint, sometimes it’s the frame around it, and sometimes it is that a piece is clearly from an earlier era. That’s one of the things we like best about this paint-by-number:
For us, paint-by-number evokes our childhoods–a time when this kind of craft was big. We both remember at least starting a paint-by-number when we were kids (though we’re not sure we ever finished one!). For us, they are artifacts of a different era.
However, that doesn’t mean we love every paint-by-number we see. One reason this one made the cut is the craftsmanship we mention above. Whoever painted this took care with it, as you can see in this detail:
And, it’s got another quality we like: originality.
3. Originality
We see lots of paint-by-number landscapes, but this one was a bit different. Lack of originality is a primary reason we’ll pass on a piece of art. We like a painting to surprise us in some way. We don’t want it to look like lots of other things we’ve seen.
Lack of originality is the main problem with this one:
We’ve seen lots of seascapes in our thrift store scouting trips.
And, we’ve seen a fair number of cowboy/western works, but this one is an original:
This cowboy isn’t a cliche. In fact, we wouldn’t be surprised if this is a portrait of a real person. He’s clearly a horseman, but he’s dressed for something other than wrangling cows. We like the way this painting makes us wonder about the story it suggests.
4. Skill
Skill is a little different from craftsmanship. Craftsmanship is about taking care with the work; skill is about executing it well. We don’t expect (or even want) the paintings we collect to be completely skillful, but we like evidence of talent.
In this farm landscape, we see lots of skill. The artist has made rich use of color; it has depth and layers of color, which is often lacking in thrift-store art. You can see it clearly in this detail of the trees:
You can see a different, more subtle use of color in the background of the painting:
We really like the depth of color in the sky.
Another strong technical feature of this painting is the composition. The artist has done a really nice job of framing the scene.
For comparison, here’s another farm scene that just doesn’t work as well:
There are some things I really like about this painting, but it’s missing some of the qualities of the one above it. For example, compare the sky in this one to the other farm sky: This one is one flat shade of blue. The tree is nicely painted, but the fence is not as skillfully rendered. And, when it comes to originality, this one just doesn’t have it. This is a generic barn; to us, it doesn’t ring as true as the other painting.
But maybe that’s because of what’s on the back of that other farm painting–and the story it tells.
5. Story
When I saw the first barn painting in our local Salvation Army, I was initially drawn to it because it’s a skillful work. There is depth of color, the composition was interesting to me, and it didn’t look like anything I’d seen before.
I wasn’t totally sold on it, though, until I looked at the back, and I found this:
This just killed me.
I have no idea who CG is, but I imagine she was, perhaps, Walter’s wife. She was someone who knew the artist, Richard Goss, and valued the painting enough to write a note indicating that this work should stay in the family. I imagine that David is someone who the painting went to; that’s often what a piece of masking tape with a name on it means when an estate is being disbursed.
It killed me that this piece had ended up in the Salvation Army, with a bric-a-brac price tag of $21.99.
I flipped it back over and really looked at the painting, and I imagined a whole story around it. I imagined a rancher or farmer in a rural part of Oregon who, perhaps, longed to be a painter. It was clear to me that this is not the work of a casual painter. It’s the work of someone who knows some things–a lot of things–about painting.
I wondered about this artist, what his life was like. I imagined it might be hard to be a painter in a small, rural Oregon community –especially in the time this painting was likely made. I can see, though, also from the painting, that this place matters to him. It seems to us a very particular place. It’s not a generic landscape. Cane thinks it likely that it was painted plein air–that the artist was painting while in the scene, not from memory or a photograph.
I wondered about the woman who wrote the note. Clearly she saw the value in this work. I wondered again about the artist, what his life was, what his relationship to her was. Did he never marry? Why?
And why was this piece–once clearly valued–now stacked with a bunch of other junk in the back of a Salvation Army store? That’s what killed me, and it was why I had to buy it.
More artists than galleries
So often, when I’m in a museum or gallery with Cane, I find myself asking:
Why is this considered to be a great work? What makes it stand out from others that are like it?
Cane’s answer often is: Because of the signature in the corner.
Or: Because of the artist’s whole body of work.
As a poet, I’ve read work by unknown writers that is as stunning, powerful, and well-crafted as those that win awards and publication in prestigious journals. I’ve come to believe that there are far more talented artists than there are venues for them.
And, there are very few–for all kinds of reasons–who are able to live in the conditions they need to develop their talent and create their work. Many of them are women, or they are working class, or they or geographically isolated, or they don’t know those who have the power to connect them to the resources they need.
So, they fit their creative work in as they can around the margins of their “real” lives. Just like Cane and I do–and like many of you reading do.
The biggest reason we collect thrift store art
The biggest reason we buy art at thrift stores is not that it’s inexpensive. It’s not that we love the thrill of the hunt. (Although, those are two reasons we buy thrift store art.)
It’s that we have a huge soft spot for work that was clearly important and meaningful to the artist who created it, particularly a talented, unknown artist.
We want to honor and value art made by unknown artists because we want to honor and value the creative drive we think all of us have within us. When we see a work that is the result of study, practice, time, and thought, we know that is the work of someone who was able to realize that creative impulse–at least in the one work we can hold in our hands.
We think that’s pretty cool, and it means way more to us than a generic poster or print ever could.
How about you?
What kind of art do you bring into your home? Why? What is your criteria for selecting those things that you surround yourself with? We’d love to know how you make your choices…please drop us a comment to share your take on art.
Linking to the Thrifty Treasures party at Southern Hospitality–lots of great thrifty finds there!
























Apr 17, 2012 @ 06:34:39
I discovered your blog via Better After last week and spent some time looking at the work you’ve done on your home. I admire your can-do spirit.
I probably would have been a lurker forever as I rarely leave comments on blogs, but this post is so good and touched me to the core. You are right about all the uncelebrated talent that exists in this world and the people who never have the chance to reach their artistic potential.
Your farm landscape was a steal at $21.99 and the handwritten note on the back makes it even more desirable in my eyes, too. You can’t buy things like this at Target. Perhaps you read about the man who found the orignal Picasso print at a Volunteers of America store in Columbus, Ohio last month – that’s the same thrift store I shop at! I rarely buy art though, as I am fortunate to own many watercolors and block prints that my late grandmother created in her lifetime. But I do buy books, especially the ones that have been written in and underlined and clearly used. Those are the best.
Keep buying that “weird” art, Rita, if for no other reason than it teaches your children the beauty of something handmade and the value of being one-of-a-kind. You can’t put a price tag on that.
Apr 17, 2012 @ 07:49:31
Thank you for taking the time to comment, Kim. This kind of response means more to me than I can really say. I did hear about the original Picasso. While I sure wouldn’t walk away from something like that, I think I really do love best the pieces by the unknown artists. As you said, something you could never buy at Target. So glad you found us–hope you’ll keep coming back.
Apr 17, 2012 @ 12:41:08
Rita,
I feel as if I just ‘met’ a kindred spirit. I am so happy you took the time to leave a comment for me and that I in turn found my way to your blog.
The reasons I choose specific pieces of art include those you listed. However, if someone I knew painted the barn or seascape that you passed on, it would have a spot in my home. I live in a Victorian farmhouse and have a wall dedicated to embroidered samplers; some my Gram, Great Gram and mother created. I also have a special place in my heart for antiques because they all have stories or have me imagining one. It’s sad that DG’s painting ended up at Good Will. Did the family line die? I have similar thoughts when I see vintage photo albums and journals for sale.
I’m your newest follower.
Deborah
Apr 17, 2012 @ 15:27:08
Hi Deborah–Glad I found you, too (through the link party–the reason I hook up to them). I’m completely with you on art created by family. I have blankets and quilts and hankies made by grandmas and great-grandmas, and I love those. Some of the things I find in Goodwill just amaze me. If I’m in one kind of mood, it makes me sad that something obviously once quite meaningful to someone no longer is. In a different mood, it’s just a reminder that things are only things. When the people who love them are gone, they don’t have the same meaning. Thanks for coming over and writing.
Apr 17, 2012 @ 15:39:23
Rita,
I could not locate your email address on your blog but wanted to share this short post with you on that very subject.
http://www.fairfieldhousenj.com/2010/09/16/trespasses/
Deborah
Fairfield House recently posted..April Showers
Apr 17, 2012 @ 17:21:18
Wow, what an amazing place. The shot of the entryway hurts–you can see what a great place it once was. And now, hay on the floor? My great-grandparents had a farm, but by the time I was around they weren’t farming any more. All the henhouses and barns were falling apart. I always wished I’d seen it before that. You’ve really captured why I love an old house–I like to think of all the life its held. Thanks again–and I’ll work on the email. (Don’t have one just for the blog yet.)
Apr 17, 2012 @ 18:45:14
I find myself drawn to strong, graphic, colorful art, like vintage travel posters. I’m also really drawn to mirrors in pretty frames (what does that say about me
. And lastly, I always seem to come home with nudes. (Paintings, not real people.)
I do notice themes in different years….in my late twenties I seemed to pick up things that had couples as their subjects (around the time I got married)….then babies (around the time I started having babies)…the nudes have been a fairly longlived theme…and now I’m really into abstract stuff but can’t afford any of the stuff I really want.
Lisa recently posted..Color My World week 3: paint
Apr 17, 2012 @ 20:10:01
Oh, I like strong graphic art, too (like in the plates I’ve been collecting). Glad the nudes are paintings and not people
I like portraits. Passed on one a while back, and when I went back to get it, it was gone. Waiting for the next good one to come along.
Apr 24, 2012 @ 13:36:11
awesome post, Rita. love it. i also buy thrift store art–all no-names. i have to say, though, that i have another criterion that i use: emotion. when buying art, i’ve discovered that by asking myself, “how does this piece make me *feel*?” I can often decide if i want it. all of the other elements (skill, originality, etc.) combine and influence this component, but when added together, they create an emotion for me, that either says, “Buy me.” or “Walk away.” I have two pieces up in my living room right now that I didn’t buy. I thought about them so much, that I went back several days later, and was relieved to find them, still at the bottom of the pile. One is an oil seascape, and the other is a beautiful needlepoint. but it’s not the skill of the artists, so much as the a very positive emotional impact that the pieces have on me, that made me go back and rescue them. i like to look at them, and i like the way they make me feel. the emotional impact of art is so subjective, yet so important to me!
Apr 24, 2012 @ 20:48:23
Hi Ruth–
So good to hear from you! I love the idea of adding emotion as criteria. That’s really what got me to buy the pasture painting–that note on the back made me see the whole painting differently. That one was a go back and get it purchase for me, too.
Apr 30, 2012 @ 07:42:13
With all the clues on the Oregon landscape – have you tried to find the family it might mean even more to?
I think the cardinal is walking on snow, not water.
Apr 30, 2012 @ 10:28:35
No, we haven’t tried to find the family. Might be a good project for the summer. And I think you’re right about snow, not water!
Feb 14, 2013 @ 20:47:39
Love it Rita! I’m a professional thrift rummager too and do way more browsing than buying, often making a concious effort to avoid purchasing impulsively, but every now and then something just jumps out at you. I recently came by an old paint-by-number and absolutely adore it!
What’s interesting, I find, is that the “hedonistic adaptation” phenomenon that I’ve often read about – that tendency for those feelings of elation and “newness” that come with a recent purchase, to wear off with the passage of time, doesn’t seem hold true with much of my thrift purchases. I find that I constantly derive a sense of pleasure, well-being and fullfillment from the imperfection I’ve surround myself with. The inherent quality, history, character and soul attached to many of those well-worn, cast away’s fills me with joy!
Keep pursuing your passion for “plain living and high thinking” and thanks for providing a small window into your world!
Feb 15, 2013 @ 11:25:00
Hi Paul–
Thank you for taking the time to write to us. I would say that the same is true for me with our thrift store finds. I don’t have the same feelings with the (few) new things we buy.
And now I’m wondering if we should adopt “plain living and high thinking” as our tag line!
Apr 17, 2013 @ 16:51:33
Okay, so I’m commenting a year later (isn’t Google a wonderful thing) – was looking for Ugly art and your blog post popped up. I spend most of my waking, non-working hours haunting the thrift shops. I have some treasured framed prints but haven’t found anything original artwork that says “buy me!” It could still happen – you two do have a good eye for composition.
Thrift Shop Commando