Madam Tessier, and her brother

Posted on October 28, 2016 by shadflyguy

walking in the park

In the late 1980’s when we were antique shopping in Quebec on a regular basis, we would follow up on leads for new sources that were offered to us by other dealers. We were told about a great shop in the town of Deschambault, which is on Rt. 138 on the north shore of the St. Lawrence river between Trois Rivieres and Quebec city. Rte. 138 was a popular tourist route back in the heyday of motoring vacations in the fifties and the sixties, but traffic dropped dramatically when the auto-route 40 opened and people’s attitude changed, and they started to just want to get from point A to B as quickly as possible. There wasn’t much of the old “motoring” culture left along the route, but it was a gorgeous drive and every so often you would spot a handmade sign in front of a little roadside shack indicating “Souvenirs”. Naturally we would stop and check it out. You never know when and where you may find the next great folk artist or crafts-person. Most of these shops were a disappointment however in that they contained the St. Jean-Port-Jolie style tourist carvings, and the typical plastic commercial schlock, but once in a while we would find some crazy, old guy making something interesting, or in this case of this story, a great source of charming, original designed hand hooked rugs.

woven runners and mats

It was a fine summer morning as we rounded the bend just a few klicks from our destination of Deschambault, when we noticed several signs around an old frame house indicating “Souvenirs” “Quebec textiles”, “hand hooked rugs”, etc. These signs had a charm all their own so we were hopeful that we may be on to something. We went through the door indicated as “shop”, and entered into a long thin room which had an end to end run of long, thin, fabric cutting style tables, stacked with dozens of different varieties of hooked rugs and woven runners, and mats. The back wall was covered with examples of rugs, and behind the tables stood a lovely looking elderly woman looking every bit the Victorian lady with piled up hair and white powder makeup. Right out of central casting. She had a radiant smile and seemed truly delighted to meet us. She told us her name was Madam Tessier and all the textiles on sale where either made by her, or one of her three or four rug hooking neighbors.

a geometric

Our attention moved from her to the rugs, and we were immediately taken with the charming original subjects, the vibrant colors, and the workmanship. The expected florals and geometrics were interesting, but what caught our attention were the many depictions of rural Quebec life. Scenes of bringing in the ducks at night, of workers stopping in the field to observe the “angelus” or moment of prayer at 6 pm, a sugaring scene in early spring, a farmer about to feed the animals, and so on. There were also riffs on classic themes like a beaver on a log, a maple leaf. As well there were tables full of multi coloured runners. Rainbows in fabric everywhere you looked. The prices were very reasonable considering the amount of work that went into them, and you could see that they were well made, and would wear well. She was surprised and delighted when instead of choosing one or two, we bought a dozen or so. We explained who we were and that we were buying for resale, and that if they should sell as we thought they would we would soon be back for more. And so it was. They went like hotcakes and within a month we were back buying about twice as many as before. Madam Tessier grew to look forward to us pulling up.

farmer and his yellow wagon

farmer in the yard

After a few visits she asked us into the adjacent house for tea. She explained that she had lived there all her life with her brother, but that he had recently passed away so she was now there on her own. She said she didn’t mind because she had many friends in the village and was never alone for very long. It was lovely to sit in her kitchen and have tea and listen to her story. It took me several minutes before I noticed something peculiar about the walls. As I looked more closely at the tongue and groove wood grained boards which ran from floor to ceiling, I realized that they were not wood paneling at all, but rather a hand painted facsimile. I couldn’t believe it. The whole room had been meticulously grain painted by hand. Every groove and the wood grain was done free hand, one at time. Then I realized that where there was a painting on the wall, that the painting had been done in the same hand right on the wall with a painted frame around it, as it should be. Amazing. Can you imagine how long it would take to do something like that? I had to ask her. “oh that. Yes, that was my brother’s project later in life. He volunteered to paint the place but then he got the idea of the wood grain so it took him several years.” He completed many rooms before he died.” You could see she was proud of her brother’s accomplishment.

beaver on a log

It’s funny what sticks with you in life. Sitting in that room, drinking tea with Madam Tessier and coming to the realization that the entire room I was sitting in was faux painted freehand by her brother remains as vivid in my memory today as the day it occurred. I’d imagine that the conclusion of a psychiatrist would be obsessive/ compulsive behavior, but to me it felt like an act of a deep dedication to the concept of beauty and love of environment, not to mention persistence. I had a deep feeling of warmth come over me, and I knew I was in the presence of true inspiration. Madam Tessier there smiling benevolently with her white powder make up and piled up Victorian hair.

farmers pausing to pray – the Angelus

Our times at The North Hatley Antique and Folk Art Show

Posted on October 14, 2016 by shadflyguy

a giant moose head that came along for the ride.

When, in about 1986 we decided to expand our show calendar beyond the weekly Toronto Harbourfront Market and the spring and fall Christie shows, we decided that we would like to include the North Hatley Antique and Folk Art Show, held annually in early July in the beautiful Eastern Townships region of Quebec. Known as Canada’s oldest antique show, it also had and still has a deserved reputation for presenting top quality antique and folk art to an exclusive and appreciative clientele. North Hatley is a picturesque charmer of a small town on the banks of Lake Massawippi, and a playground to the affluent and powerful of Montreal and surrounding areas. The show, put on by the local Recreational Society is held in the old curling club with about fifteen dealers set up where the ice would be, and another 6 or so set up in the onlooking lounge. For the years we attended, until his death in 2007 it was run by the legendary Sam Pollock, who among many other things was the manager of the Montreal Canadians for 14 years, during which they won the Stanley Cup nine times. As you can imagine, Sam ran a tight ship. Every year he, and his loyal fellow volunteers would do everything from planning and preparing, to set up, and everything else involved in running a top notch show right down to the making of the delicious home-made egg salad sandwiches at the lunch bar. They may have been up in years, but those ladies knew their way around a good egg salad sandwich.

In those days, it was not easy to get invited to do the show. We were lucky to have friends like Peter Baker and Gerry Marks who had been doing the show for years to recommend us. The first year we had a tiny 10’ x 10’ booth wedged into a corner of the lounge area, which was mostly dedicated to book, pottery, and silver sellers, with the furniture dealers all being in the main room. We didn’t mind because being an unknown in terms of results, the rent was cheaper and we came with a smaller truck. We focused mainly on folk art, which was what the promoters wanted from us because it was becoming increasingly popular with this crowd. It went very well, and we had a great time to boot. Good sales, lovely people, and a stunning area to explore.

An interesting feature of the show is the gala Friday night opening. From 6:30 to 9:00 on the Friday night a $30 ticket buys you first crack at the stuff, and all the delicious hors-d’oeuvres, and wine you want. Lovely young waiters and waitresses passing amongst the crowd with trays. The experienced dealers warned us that opening night it is packed, and it may seem that all they do is talk to each other, and glance over your stuff. It is a big social event after all. But not to despair because when they see something they like they are in a good and competitive mood to buy. Also, they may go home and discuss it, and come back Saturday morning to buy. It worked out pretty much just like that. A few sales Friday night, then good sales all day Saturday, and even a few more on Sunday.

We kept the same booth for a couple of years and then moved to a bigger one in the same room when it became available. Then one year when I was doing the show by myself; I can’t remember when exactly, it must have been the late nineties, Sam came up to me and asked me if I would be interested in taking over a large room upstairs they had for the same price. He pitched “You can spread out the art and make it like a gallery. I think you can do well up there.” I knew the space. It was a big space, about 20’ x 30’ with two front facing windows which brought in a lot of natural light. It must have been used for meetings.

my “gallery”
at the North Hatley show

“Well, yes Sam the space is great, but not to mention that everything has to go up and down the fire escape, I will be on my own up there, apart from the show. It might get pretty lonely”. “Ah, but don’t forget Phil, that’s where the woman’s washroom is. All the ladies will pass by eventually, and they’ll drag their husband’s up”. I thought about it for a minute and decided he was probably right. It just might work, and if it did the price was right. So I agreed, and started to haul everything up the steep fire escape that led directly to the room. A big task, but much easier than dragging everything through the inside. It took the whole afternoon to set up, but in the end it looked like a gallery. I even had a table and chairs in front of the window where I could sit and do business, or read the paper in slow times. Not to mention eating egg salad sandwiches. So close. So tasty. So affordable. I put up a little sign with an arrow pointing up at the base of the inside staircase announcing “Folk Art Upstairs”. I hoped that somebody might see it.

looking into my “gallery”
from the hall

6:30 arrived and at first I wondered if I had made a horrible mistake because I could hear the people coming in, chatting and having fun for a full thirty minutes before anyone showed their face. But then it started. The first lady poked her nose in, and was surprised to find me and my offerings. Fortunately she was a folk art enthusiast and went directly to several pieces of carvers she recognized. She bought three things right then and there, and I was off to the races. It was out of the way, but when the folk art people found me, they really connected, and would not only buy, but go down and drag their friends up. I met several people that year that became long -time friends and customers. It was already a great show by Saturday at noon and then Pierre Riverin walked in. I’d heard about the “collecting” mayor of the town of Eastman for several years but we had never crossed paths. We talked for over an hour, he bought several pieces, and it was the beginning of a wonderful friendship. It is a rare and precious moment when you find yourself in the right place, at the right time, with the right stuff. Even with all the effort of getting everything up and down those stairs, it was worth it many times over. I had a wonderful show and I was happy up there. I repeated this for a few more years before the hauling up and down began to outweigh the benefit, so when a bigger booth on the main floor became available I grabbed it.

myself and Tom DeVolpi enjoying a beverage

Over the years we got to know several of the Quebec dealers, designers, and collectors who frequent this unique annual show. For a time many of us participating dealers would get together on Saturday night and enjoy the evening together at some wonderful local Inn or restaurant. There are several to choose from. Then through our friend Tom De Volpi, and our friends Jim and Ilona Fleming, we were invited to an annual Saturday night dealer’s dinner held at the nearby summer home of a lovely Montreal designer named Valery. It was always a wonderful, warm get together, not to mention a delicious dinner; and we were grateful for her hospitality and the chance to spend some happy time with our fellows.

Eventually, as in all stories, the pages turn, and times change, and so it was that by 2008, (I remember it because, although still a good show, it just didn’t feel the same without Sam being there), along with slumping sales, we reached the point and age where we just couldn’t justify the ten hour drive to and from home, and all the work that doing the show entailed. Mind you this was part of a larger retreat from doing shows altogether. We truly don’t miss the work, but we do miss the people. They were some very good times.

the “gang”
at Valerie and Henri’s

The Eagle has Landed – adventures in shipping

Posted on September 23, 2016 by shadflyguy

step 1 -secure to the base

Every once in a while it is good to take on something that is clearly out of your range of ability. Good to stretch, and persevere, and hopefully at a successful end feel that clean moment of well-deserved accomplishment. It was that theory, along with my inherent desire to please people which lead me to say “yes” to a request to pack and ship a delicate and fragile piece of folk art to a buyer in British Columbia. A friend and regular customer from Victoria had built a nifty addition to his home and he spotted on my Collectivator web page a large spread winged carving of an eagle, perched on an antler no less, and decided he had the perfect spot for it above the entry door. The carver balanced the heavy wooden body on two life-sized (read small) wooden legs and did not do the standard trick of adding a separate brace to the body. These braces always detract from the piece but are almost a necessity to insure the piece will not break when moved. I loved the way the piece looked but it was always my hope that someone would come along to the shop and buy it, and I could help them carefully wrap it in a blanket, place it on the back seat of their car and wave bye bye. No such luck. It was flying to Victoria.

step 2 – frame the box

My initial thought was to hire a professional art packer and shipper, and pass off the responsibility of getting it there to a professional. My friend, Dennis is easy going and didn’t mind paying for services rendered. However, when the quote came back at $950, we both baulked and decided there had to be another way. I have packed many things over the years and I am pretty good at it, with only a few pieces of broken pottery clouding my record, and so after exhausting any possibility of finding someone who was driving that way and could take it, I offered that I would do my very best to pack it and get it there, with the understanding that if something went wrong and it was broken in transit, Dennis would look after getting someone local to repair it. Of course if this happened it would be a real pain to find someone with the necessary skills, and there would be no guarantee that it would ever be “as good as new”. Still, I knew that if I took my time, and didn’t scrimp on the materials, Lord willin’ and the creek don’t rise, etc. So with a gentleman’s agreement in place, it was time to pack the eagle.

step 3 – add three sides

One good bit of advice that I have always followed is that when you find yourself out of your element consult a professional. One advantage of an antique seller’s lifestyle is that you meet and get to know people in every profession. It happens that I have a regular customer and friend named Paul in town who is a retired engineer. I knew I was in luck when soon after he came into the shop with a buddy who is also an engineer, and moments after my introducing and requesting assistance on the project, he and his pal were measuring things up and drawing diagrams. Paul was on-board, and I had a short list of materials to buy, and a commitment for the following Saturday morning to build the box together out back of Shadfly on the porch.

We knew that the crate would need to stay in an upright position, but also that it may be tipped up or rocked about in shipping. The 42” wide wingspan could not be pressing against anything, and the whole thing would need to be fixed down to the box so it could not shift around. Then there was the weight and delicate balance of that heavy body on those tiny wooden legs.

step 4 – install rope supports

Step one was to secure the base of the sculpture to the bottom of the box preferably without marking it up. We screwed down blocks on all sides and then screwed down a piece which went straight across the base thus locking it down. We attached 2”x4” skids so it could be lifted with a lift truck. We then built the 2”x2” frame up from the base which would hold the sides, putting the top on temporarily to keep the structure square. Next we put on three of the sides. With three sides on, we next affixed two wide, soft nylon, flat ropes. One under the belly, the other under the chin of the bird. These allowed for a slight amount of movement but also continuous support. On with the fourth side and taking the lid off we then filled it from top to bottom with Styrofoam chips and a layer of foam on top. When the top was secured, she was ready to go.

step 5 – fill with chips and foam

I had been calling around to CN, Fed Ex, etc. before a friend told me to call a company called “Just ship it”. They compare all the various carriers for you and advise you on who’s best. I called up and a very helpful woman took down the particulars. Within a few minutes I received an e-mail from her suggesting a couple of alternatives. Although it was a few dollars more than Fed-ex she recommended I use Day and Ross because they have a better reputation for being careful. The total cost was less than $300, and the piece would arrive within five working days. She suggested that I could go on-line to their website and complete the order, but did not mind when I asked if she could just go ahead and do it for me. Sometimes these registering procedures can be complicated and not always successful using my then out of date browser. Within minutes she sent me the papers I needed to attach to the box and the pick-up was ordered. “When can I expect them?”. “Oh, it will be today, probably this morning”. Really? That soon. So I hung up the phone, printed and filled out the papers, had a coffee, and set off next door to Shadfly to finish the prep. To my total surprise there was a Day and Ross transport parked in front of the shop. “Are you here for a pick-up?” “Yes, I have an order to pick-up at Shadfly Antiques.” “That’s amazing. I just got off the phone, and you are already here. How did that happen? “well, I just happen to be in town picking up at another place and the order came through on my phone, so here I am. Just lucky I guess” “Great, well you will just have to give me a couple of minutes to tape on these labels and it’s all yours. Nice fellow. No problem, he got his truck ready while I set to work with the labels and fifteen minutes later the big crate full of eagle was sitting in the front of an otherwise empty 40’ van. He secured it in place and gave me his assurance that it would be looked after. “It will be back at the warehouse tonight and will be put on the truck for B.C. in the morning. They’ll keep it upright and be gentle with it. Don’t worry” Easily said, but I did worry of course. I was delighted four days later to receive a picture from Dennis entitled “snow in summer” because of the waves of Styrofoam chips surrounding the opened crate. There in the middle of it, looking exactly as it had when it left was the eagle perched precariously on an antler. Dennis managed to get it in the house and mounted without incident. A big sigh of relief all around.

step 6 – the eagle has landed

“It’s not saleable!! It doesn’t get made in a minute” – The art of Edmund Chatigny

Posted on September 16, 2016 by shadflyguy

We unfolded ourselves slowly out of the truck after the grueling ten-hour drive from our home in Wyecombe Ontario to Alan Chauvette’s picking barn near Victoriaville, Quebec. We were met by a particularly animated Alan. He was excited, even for Alan who tends to run a little hot. “What perfect timing. I’ve got something exciting to show you. Follow me to my house and we’ll come back here after”. Ten minutes later we are entering Alan’s back yard and everywhere you look there are chip carved, splatter painted, flowers, birds, and other wildlife generally with a large figure at the center and a multitude of smaller components coming off in every direction. Wild. The total affect was that of a fantasy garden. We were mesmerized.

“They were all made by this crazy old guy in St. Isidore de Beauce who covered his yard completely. He’s gone into the retirement home and the family is selling the house, so I got them all.” We were still looking around trying to take it all in. “As you can see there are hundreds of pieces and I am selling them all as one lot. None of this picking the best, and leaving the rest.” I was almost afraid to ask the price, but had to. Alan gave me a serious look and a number in the high four figures. It was pretty much what I expected due to the quantity, but the first thing that sprang to mind was “We think it’s wonderful, but I wonder if anybody else will. This is pretty eccentric stuff.” We looked at each other for a moment, then I said to Alan. “We’ll discuss it on the way back to the barn and give you an answer there.” That was a pretty intense ten minutes that followed. We both loved the work, and “got” that his complex assemblages which could be reconfigured in different ways and still ‘work” was an exciting concept. Still, it was a lot of money to put down on an unknown horse. We talked it out and as we pulled in we concluded “What the hell. Let’s trust our instincts and do what we are here to do, so it was all big smiles and laughter, as we concluded the deal. There were a couple of pickers standing nearby that we saw regularly, and they laughed at us. “They’ll be burying you with that stuff”. We didn’t care. We owned the entire contents of Mr. Chatigny’s yard, and although we had never heard of him, we knew that it spoke to us as so few things do in this life. We were half way home, somewhere around Brockville before we started to question ourselves. We needn’t have. Within a month we had sold enough to pay back our investment, and there was still a good half left.

Edmond Chatigny was born in 1895 in St. Isidore de Beauce, Quebec. He was creative from an early age. “When I was young I used to take a knife and whittle. My mother used to say “I think you could end up making something”. He became a farmer. Married and had thirteen children. Then the day came when he retired. “When I was on the farm I used to work hard, then when I retired I had nothing to do and I became bored. That’s what decided me to start making little things – wooden flowers, birds, then all kinds of things. I do it with a little saw and a pocket knife. Sell them? They are not sellable. They are not made in a minute. It’s all green, white and red with a little brown. This year I think I am going to put a lot of green and white. In the summer when I cut the grass, I clear them all off, then I put them all back. It takes two days.”

Although I never met M. Chatrigny, I am sure that it would bemuse him to hear me say that I think he was a uniquely innovative, and an important artist in his own right; and since I first laid eyes on his work, until present day, he remains one of my favourites.

Looking back at over twenty years at the Christie Antique Show

Posted on September 2, 2016 by shadflyguy

Me (looking really heavy), and Jeanine in our booth, mid nineties

The Christie Antique show is coming up on Saturday, September 10^th at the Christie conservation area near Hamilton, Ontario. It is Canada’s largest outdoor antique show and draws thousands of people to both the spring and fall shows. It was started in 1988 by Jeff and Wendy Gadsden in partnership with John Forbes, and a few others investing. I remember everyone getting excited about the prospect of a new outdoor show in the Golden Triangle area. At the time the Flamborough Antique show held nearby, also in the spring and fall by promoter Bill Hogan was the only large outdoor show, and it was uncertain how this new show would stack up. We liked the fact that it was a one-day show held on Saturday so we didn’t need to miss the Harbourfront market in Toronto on Sunday which was still going strong. Also, Christie is an hour away from our home so we didn’t have to factor in staying overnight at a motel.

From the beginning the Gadsden’s and Hogan ran a tight ship. There was active vetting and anyone foolish enough to try to pass off a reproduction or junky piece would be certain to be brought to task and made to remove the offending item, or in some extreme cases be thrown out altogether from future shows. Older folk art was o.k., but mass produced, contemporary folk art was not; especially if misrepresented. I remember one spring show when Jeff made the dealer next to me return the money to a customer, and accept back an Aime Desmeulles horse that the gentleman had bought for a large sum because he was told it was old and rare. He was not happy when someone had told him the truth, and so he went to the promoter’s office to complain. There was no tolerance for early packing, no matter what the weather conditions. You could be sure that everything would be on display right up until closing time at five. Load in and load out was carefully supervised. It was in every sense a well-run show and collectors and dealers alike loved it.

Something is amusing Jeanine.

Many dealers would come the night before to set up their tents, and then settle in for the night so they would be ready for the morning rush. This continues to be the case. You could not unpack your stock, so in the evening there was a fair amount of partying and card playing going on. Not to mention a fair amount of subtle trading and purchasing; everyone being very careful not to be caught as this was forbidden. You were allowed to unpack starting at 6 a.m. and so those two hours before the field was open to the public at 8 was crucial. Typically, you would do a lot of dealer business during this period quite often selling many of your nicer pieces as they came off the truck. Clay Benson and others would race around buying, following up leads given to them on their walky-talkies by scouts also combing the fields. The negotiation was accomplished quickly and when a deal was reached it would be completed later in the day when things had calmed down. I loved to buy at the show but I would always stay in the booth during this critical period because I was most interested in selling, and the type of thing I buy was esoteric enough that it would still be there later on. It felt great when on occasion you had sold enough to consider it a successful show before the public had even entered the field. This was the hay day, and everyone was tuned up for it.

Like everyone else, we had our fans. Early on, there was not a lot of folk art on the field so folk art collectors made our booth one of their first stops. These “keeners” were also in a hurry to buy and move on, but many of them would circle back later for a visit. Things were typically busy until about ten, when it would slow down enough that Jeanine could handle the flow, and I would take off for a couple of hours to comb the field, coming back about every twenty minutes to unload purchases, and check how things were going. I could tell by the expression on Jeanine’s face as she saw me approached with my treasures if I had some “splaning” to do, as Ricky Ricardo used to say. I loved it on the occasions when I would quickly sell again something she would flatly tell me that “you’ll be taking that piece to your grave with you”. But then again she was often right, and we mostly agreed. She would take her turn after lunch, and it was my turn to hold down the fort, and offer comments on her purchases. We didn’t have any cell phones or walky-talkies at this point which was just as well. There’s nothing worse in my opinion than trying to explain and convince another of the relative merits of a piece, talking on your phone in someone’s booth while they look expectantly on. It takes the fun out of it.

For the first several years we had a spot right in the middle of a row in broad sunlight. It was awfully hot until we purchased a tent to provide shade and shelter. As helpful and necessary as it was, the first twenty minutes in the morning setting up the wretched thing, and the last twenty minutes at the end of the day packing it, where my least favourite parts of the day. Some swearing was involved as you would inevitably at some point pinch your skin putting the stupid thing together. When Marjorie Larmond quit doing the show in the late nineties she was nice enough to bequeath her spot under a big shade tree to us. Jeff went along with her wishes, and so after that we had a lovely spot at the back of the booth, in the shade to set up our picnic lunch. These lunches started out innocently enough, but being French Jeanine kept upping the ante until it became quite a production with tablecloths, a range of excellent cheeses, beverages, etc. Many friends got in on this, and it became a very pleasant way to spend the slow time after two, until it was time to start wrapping up the business and beginning to pack at five. We tried to keep it subtle and behind the truck and we made sure that someone was always on duty up front should someone wish assistance. Still some people would give us some very odd looks. This reminded me a bit of the shows in France where at mid-day, everyone sets the table, and puts out their lunches and bottles of wine and you carry on regardless. The French have their priorities straight.

We happen to agree with a no packing before show end policy so although we would have our boxes and packaging ready we would wait for the announcement that it was over and it was o.k. to start. It usually would take a couple of hours at a leisurely pace to pack up and leave. We were always exhausted, but most often happy and satisfied with our day. There is a Chinese place we like called “the China King” going into Brantford where we would stop and eat before heading home. I don’t think Chinese food ever tastes better than at the end of a long, arduous day which also provides the satisfaction of good visits, exciting purchases, and if lucky, lots of sales and a full wallet.

We did our last Christie in 2010 which as it happens is also the last year the Gadsden’s ran it. Anyone who has attended regularly over the years will tell you Christie has changed dramatically, especially in these last few years. To everything, turn, turn, turn; so let’s not get maudlin about it. There’s still plenty of wonderful stuff turning up on the field, and many good dealers. Look harder and filter out the stuff that grinds on your collector sensibilities. You just might find something to cherish, and you’re likely to enjoy yourself. Quite possibly snag a nice lunch. We’ll see you there.

“living the dream”, a church full of great stuff in the middle of nowhere

Posted on August 26, 2016 by shadflyguy

later on when most of the furniture was gone and it was largely folk art

I can remember standing in the partially dilapidated main hall of the old Wyecombe Methodist church for the first time, and thinking “this would make a fabulous antique store.” It’s 1981 and Jeanine has read a classified ad in the London Free Press about a church for sale in Norfolk County for $21,000. We decided to take a ride in the country and have a look just for the fun of it. Seemed harmless enough. Well damned if we didn’t fall in love with the vaulted, 28’ patterned tin ceiling, and surrounding 14’ Gothic windows. We loved the size, exposure and location of the place and saw the potential; and so in spite of all our friends and family advice against it, we bought the dream. Thus along with our new alternative life style we began several years of hard labor renovating and maintaining the joint. We soon discovered why these church halls are typically taken on by a community, and not individuals. Everything is large scale. Thirty gallons of paint rather than four. We loved the challenge. We could see the phoenix rising from the ashes.

As life demands, simultaneous to the renovation we began to buy and sell antiques, to meet our needs, and so our main concern was to sell every weekend at the Toronto Harbourfront market. We didn’t think many would find us in the outback and we were happy with the income from the market. But it wasn’t long before dealers and other customers started to make the trip out to see what we had at home. At first it was more of a warehouse than a show room, but over the years we refined and added showcases, and shelving and by about 1990 it was usually quite full and fairly organized. Of course everything had to be dragged up and down the wide, front steps, but we were young and stupid; and didn’t care. Like many of us at that time who found themselves being full-time antique dealers, it was the alternative lifestyle thing that attracted us. It was more out of an aesthetic interest than any well thought out business plan that the sales room of Old Church Trading came about. That and the natural tendency for things to pile up as you continue in this business, and thus the need to find some place to keep them.

In the fall of 1996 a Quebec dealer friend of ours started to bring huge loads of mediocre stuff to a Guelph auction every other week, and proposed that he also bring along some good things for us to sell for him. Things were changing in Quebec. We had the room, and had done good business together over the years so we said yes. It was great. He kept bringing us wonderful things. Not a lot at a time, but excellent quality. We loved to see him pull in. It was like Christmas.

Our Harbourfront days were now behind us, but with some good dealer trade and with a schedule of about twelve shows a year we continued to go through a lot of stock. People who had not been by for a while often commented that it was amazing how much the stock kept changing. That, and it just kept getting fuller. Cupboards were now in rows and stacked one on top of the other. I felt proud that it was looking like a Quebec picker’s barn. I loved to stand at the front of the big room and look over the variety of interesting things. Although visitors were few and sometimes far between, those who made the trip usually were serious and went home with something, or often with lots of things. We really didn’t advertise all that much, or encourage passing trade. There was a small sign at the road but that was all. Most who came were people we knew from shows. Or people who learned about us through them. I guess we could have pushed harder, but we like staying a bit out of the way. Mysterious and a bit aloof. Not in a “pearls before swine sort of way”, but just by saying “here it is. We think it’s great. If you think it’s great and want to take it home, we are happy to help you carry it out. Otherwise, we hope you had a nice time and it was worth the drive.” You could be that cocky back then.

Late in 1997 our Quebec pal’s arrangement with the auction house ended and he stopped coming, so we bought about half the stock we had, and sent the rest home with him. The market was changing, and so were we. We were becoming more interested in the folk art, and although I loved the furniture, my back was just about pooched, and the furniture market was slowing, so we decided to downsize and focus on smalls. Oh how dismissive a young me and my colleagues had been watching the “smalls” dealers bringing in their boxes, and now I was one of them. Less and less furniture came up those stairs.

Our daughter Cassandra had left for Queens a few years earlier, so by the year 2000 we started to think about ourselves in the not too distant future being old, and a bit crazy, rambling around the church in old patched sweaters, so we decided that a move into town and a new scene was the next project. It took us three years to wind down the church and move on to Port Dover, and don’t get me wrong. We’re happy we did. But for a while there we were living our dream. A great shop, in the middle of nowhere, which almost nobody knows about. Looking back, I can see that it was almost like building a folly.

The paintings of Barbara Clark Fleming

Posted on August 19, 2016 by shadflyguy

Artist’s Statement:

“All of my paintings reflect upon my country life. Paintings of rural landscapes and different animals, all of which are a link to my past. I was born in 1939 on a 150 acre farm in East Zorra, Ontario, where my father farmed with horses. My mom and dad had no boys, so I became my dad’s helper. As a result of these memories my paintings frequently reflect scenes of haying, threshing, fetching cows, and scenes of country villages.

I never took lessons in painting. I just wanted to put my feelings on canvas. I don’t like painting straight lines, I prefer curves and waves. I do all my painting at home in the country, and I use many different colours. I started painting in 1977 as I realized I had no pictures of my dad’s farm. To keep memories of that farm alive my first picture was painted, and it was entered into the Oxford County Juried Exhibition and won an award of merit. It still have that painting. I did not take my painting seriously until 1989 when an accident prevented me from working full time. I hope that everyone who views my paintings receives as much pleasure as I receive painting them.”

As mentioned in my previous blog about the Canadian Contemporary Folk Art Festival, it was here in 1994 that we first encountered the work of Barbara Clark Fleming. Shortly after we contacted her and made our first trip to her home near Woodstock, Ontario.

The first thing we noticed when we arrived at her neat little hobby farm was the pony in a paddock at the rear. Barbara met us at the door and although obviously very shy was none the less welcoming and told us about her pet horse and her love for all animals. We then went in to the house to discover a turtle crawling across the kitchen floor, a couple of cats lounging about, and a little white bunny who would hide behind the furniture and hop by occasionally. We were introduced to her husband Stan, who was stretched out in a recliner chair in the living room. A very nice man who was by this point very ill and requiring her full time care. She took us into a little room beside which was her studio. Here she painted on a flat school desk over which hung a large combination lamp/ magnifying glass. Barbara explained that she is very near sighted and required this set up for the details. She said that the painting was a great escape for her, as she was required to be at home, indoors most of the time. She essentially remembers happy scenes from her childhood and paints them spontaneously. Although she is not conscious of it, this method was and is the essence of what gives her work it’s spontaneous energy, strength and beauty.. She paints because she loves to paint with no concern for conventional form or perspective. She is fearless and direct and simply works until she is happy with the painting. We love this about her work. We bought about twelve paintings that day and thus began a long relationship with Barbara and her art.

She looked after Stan at home until his death a couple of years later, after which she got out and traveled around the nearby countryside, observing and documenting those elements of rural life that she still related to her upbringing. Thus she began to paint Mennonite farms, and old feed mills that reminded her of her youth.

We believe that the first rule of dealing with folk artists is “Do not influence”. It is always tempting to “suggest” painting more paintings in a style which you find to be most commercial, but ultimately it is this type of influence which kills the natural wonder and instincts which nurtures an artist’s development. If an artist starts to paint to please you, it is not long before they grow bored and resentful.

In 1995 we took fourteen of Barbara’s paintings to the summer Muskoka Antique Show and sold all fourteen on the opening night. I seriously considered driving home that night to fetch more, but it was eight hours round trip so didn’t. Barbara’s paintings sold well at every show including Muskoka the following year, and continued to be very popular for about another five years before interest waned. Interest and sales have gone up and down since, but nothing like when we first introduced them to the Canadian market at that time. She continues to paint excellent paintings.

Remembering top dealer Marjorie E. Larmon

Posted on July 29, 2016 by shadflyguy

Marjorie Larmon did not suffer fools. Born on November 14, 1912, she had been interested and involved with antiques since an early age. Her parents Roy and Ruby Sackrider were both interested in things from the past. At an early age, she and her father would look for antiques while selling maple syrup door to door. In the 1960’s she and her husband Clarence were able to buy the family homestead just outside Burgessville, Ontario, and Marjorie came into her own as an antique dealer, naming her business “The Pig and Plow”. If she got to know you, and liked you, she would tell you stories of her glory days, driving her hearse to Quebec and filling it with merchandise. Going into the ditch on the way back from a winter auction, etc. She placed many antiques in important collections over the years, and was an enthusiastic collector herself. Her barn was full of wonderful things, but the real treat was if she were to invite you into her home, where she kept the best stuff.

Over the years she gave lectures, interviews, and conducted study classes at museums and historical societies. In 1982 the Art Gallery of Windsor held a show of her folk art collection entitled “Celebration”. In 2005 she brought out a little book outlining the story of her life entitled “Diamond Buckles on my Shoes” She was the real deal. She developed many lasting friendships and was always friendly and welcoming to knowledgeable collectors, but if she found you to be rude, or boorish, she did not hesitate to send you packing. When we moved to the church in Wyecombe we were told by other dealers to go and see her, but be careful in our approach, especially in trying to get a better price. Frankly we were intimidated and didn’t even go to see her for a year or two later, at which point we felt we had enough knowledge to not be rejected outright.

On that first visit we realized that there was no reason to worry. She had heard of us through her main picker Jim Sherman, who had occasionally bought things from us for her. So when we gave our names she was immediately warm and welcoming, suggesting that after we had finished in the barn she would make us a cup of tea and show us her collection. We made a couple of purchases that day, and in the way of negotiation we simply asked her for her dealer price. She looked a bit stern at first, but then offered a fair reduction and so we accepted without argument. We had made her good books. Actually, that’s the way we have always preferred to negotiate. Most people respect this approach and give you good prices. Also, I find it saves a lot of energy.

So we loaded our purchases and made our way to the house for tea and a tour. Mind blowing. What a wonderful way to spend a couple of hours. Her collection was better than what you would see at most museums, and she was sharp witted and quick to give you the story behind every piece. We made several trips to see Marjorie over the following years. She and Clarence were always welcoming. So it continued until after the death of her beloved sister Ina in 2000, and Clarence’s death in 2002 when it gradually became too much for her to continue even with the generous help of Jim Sherman, and so in 2006 she decided to retire. She and Jim Sherman arranged a classic one-day auction, with nearby auctioneers Jim Anderson, and Gerry Brooks, and everything went up for sale. It will be ten years since that historic auction this September 23^rd, and will be the subject of a future blog.

There are a few funny stories of Marjorie turfing out dealers for one transgression or another, but I prefer to remember her by telling about a visit we had with her shortly before she closed the shop. She had called and offered to sell us back a beautiful pair of large finials that Jim had bought for her a few months earlier. We couldn’t quite figure out why she would want to do this, but we liked the finials and the Bowmanville show was coming up so we said yes, and made the trip to pick them up.

We finished our business in the barn and headed to the house for tea. We had a lovely chat and then she said “Come into the living room. There is something I want to show you.” We sat ourselves on the couch and waited feeling very curious. “Phil open up that corner cupboard and you see that decorated box on the top shelf; bring that down for me.” I brought down the most gorgeously carved and polychrome painted Scandinavian wedding box I had ever seen. “Jeanine, you are French, and this wedding box is French so I want you to buy it from me and take it to the Bowmanville show, and sell it for a lot of money.” We knew it was not French but we were smart enough not to contradict her, and so we timidly suggested that yes it was a lovely thing to offer us, and how much did she want for it? We were bracing for a big number and wondering if we could afford it. “Give me $200.” We could not believe our ears. We wondered if maybe she was losing it a little bit or we hadn’t heard right, or perhaps she meant to say something else, so we questioned her. “Marjorie, that’s a wonderful offer, but are you sure that’s all you want? I mean….” She cut me off. “No that’s the price and I won’t take a dollar more. You’ve been good friends and customers and I want you to sell it at Bowmanville. Do we have a deal? Of course we do Marjorie and thank you.

We took it the following month to the show as she requested. We labeled it correctly as a Scandinavian wedding box in pristine condition with no repairs, and from the collection of Marjorie Larmon; and then we were totally shocked when the vetters came by and said we could not show it because it was not Canadian. Feeling a mix of rejection, disappointment, and some relief as we were happy to take it home and keep it for ourselves we put it aside. Then within moments, the vetter who had rejected it for inclusion in the show circled back and asked, “So what’s my dealer price on that.” We held our nose and sold it to him. Marjorie was thrilled when we told her what we got for it. We didn’t tell her the circumstance.

One of the last times we saw Marjorie we were delighted when she pulled up with Jim Sherman to see our newly opened Shadfly Antiques shop in Port Dover. By this point she was using a walker and she moved slowly and carefully, and of course this was after the auction and she was living in a retirement home so she was not considering any purchases, but she seemed to really enjoy herself and wrote a nice little note in our visitor’s book. Short and sweet. “A great little shop”, and her signature. She looked up at me with a twinkle in her eye and said, I would have written something longer, and better but you gave me a lousy pen.” Ah Marjorie, you were an original and we miss you.

Marjorie inspecting a quilt

The Fifth Annual Outsider Art Fair – Discovering the work of James Castle

Posted on July 15, 2016 by shadflyguy

catalogue cover for the 1997 Outsider Art fair

Coming back into the Puck building on the cold afternoon of January 23^rd I started to feel that wonderful buzz that one feels before the opening of a big marketing event. A combination of excitement, and expectation, mixed with a touch of anxiety realizing that in a couple of hours the throngs would be pouring in, and we would be off and running, either making it, or breaking it. The booth was set up and looked good, so I had a couple of hours to check out the show. The first thing I did was cross the aisle to have a closer look at some work which I had been noticing which was deceptively simple in it’s construction but very compelling. The entire booth of J Crist from Boise, Idaho was filled with the yet unknown work of James Castle (1900- 1977).

Jacqueline Crist who runs the gallery acts as agent for the artist’s estate and her gallery houses a considerable body of this particularly driven and prolific artist’s work. On this occasion she put “all of her eggs in one basket” and just brought works by Castle. Getting up close to the work, I became more and more enamored. Put together with spit, and soot and cardboard etc, the quantity and variety of his output is astonishing. I came to find out that he devoted himself virtually full time to his art for nearly seven decades. His drawings, assemblages, and handmade books are compellingly mysterious, and contain a confounding sophistication. Perhaps this quality is the essence of what attracts me to “outsider art”. In the case of James Castle I was an immediate fan. The tagged prices seemed fair. Asking in the upper hundreds on up for the, in most cases, diminutive drawings and constructions. Hmmm. I began to think that I may score one of these beautiful little pieces to take home but of course I had to check out the rest of the show first, just in case there was another Bill Traylor drawing for low money. Still feeling tough that I had missed out the year before.

a drawing by James Castle

I noticed the Traylor drawing I had missed out on was present and priced up by a few more thousand dollars. Way to go, Phil. Then I noticed that Carl Hammer’s booth was this year graced by two large, magnificent scrolls by Henry Darger. This was the year to promote Darger, as there was running simultaneously with the show, a Museum of American Folk Art exhibition of more than 60 of his paintings called “the Unreality of Being”. I was interested to note but not surprised that the prices of his work had gone up considerably.

invitation to the Henry Darger exhibit at the Museum of American Folk Art

So I made my way from booth to booth growing more determined by the second that a small James Castle drawing was in my future. I wasn’t going to miss out like last year by hesitating and calling home for a conference. No, I was going to head right back and make my selection. But what’s this? As I approach I see a group of the top dogs including Carl hammer leaving the booth. My heart began to sink a little, but I told myself to relax, it’s o.k. So the selection process may be a little bit easier. I hadn’t set my sites on any work in particular. I slid up to Jacqueline whom I had become quite friendly with during set up and asked her “what’s up”. “It’s the craziest thing. Those big wigs just came over, and bought my entire booth. Lock, stock and barrel. I’m finished here before it opens. I guess I could just pack up and go home, but I want to stay because I was so looking forward to being a part of the show.” Nice problem to have. Well there you go.

A James Castle construction

Are you beginning to sense a theme here when it comes to me buying, or should I say not buying at art shows? Well in this case she had plenty more work at home so I could have theoretically ended up with something else, but I chose to just let it pass, get on with the show, and concentrate on just doing my best to sell, sell, sell, for my friend Joy. The show went even better than the year before, and we were all very happy with the experience. Well, except for the missing out on the James Castle thing, but there you go.

Since then a splendid book on Castle has come out in 2009, coinciding with the exhibition at the Philadelphia Museum of Art entitled “James Castle, a Retrospective”. I highly recommend it. I’ve got a copy. I love looking through it. It sits in place for the one that got away.

cover of the James Castle book

The “spontaneous” vision of Quebec carver Andre Laporte

Posted on June 24, 2016 by shadflyguy

Andre’s Montreal Canadien goalie

About 30 years ago we were rooting around in Alain Chauvette’s pickers barn near Victoriaville Quebec when we happened upon a wonderful carving of a Montreal Canadien goalie. A serious dude with a square head and a look of determination which would intimidate even the most veteran opponent. We loved it and bought it for our own collection. I’m looking at him right now and I’m still impressed with the expressiveness of his rough cut features, and the immediacy of the carving. Problem was, he wasn’t signed. We asked Alain if he knew the carver, and he did not so we had to be content to have found this one great piece by an unknown carver with the possibility of never knowing the maker, or seeing other work by him. Then about six months later we found a carving that was obviously made by the same hands of a group of four cows, carved all in one piece in the round. The same roughness and directness as the goalie. This time it had the signature A Laporte on the bottom. The picker still did not know the carver, but at least we had a name to go on.

a group of cows by Andre Laporte

So fast forward about fifteen years later. We have found and bought another half dozen pieces by Mr. Laporte, all with the same strength and spontaneity of our goalie. Still no one knew, or admitted to knowing anything about the artist. Remember that any picker is extremely reluctant to put you in touch with a carver because then you buy from the artist and not them, so it is counterproductive. Still, we were happy just to find the pieces and realize that the artist was most likely still active.

Andre sits on his front bench with his first carving

Then came that lucky day when by going through the phone book in La Prairie, and we found and met the carver Leo Fournier. We were enjoying our conversation with Leo when his wife came into the room and said “Leo, Andre Laporte just phoned and I told him I would have you phone him back after you are finished here.” Eureka! “Would your friend Andre Laporte be a carver by any chance?” Why yes he is, a carver and an antique picker. He lives a few miles from here in the town of Verdun.” “Would you mind giving us his phone number”. “Not at all. I’m sure he would be happy to meet you”. So before we left Leo called Andre back, gave him the scoop and put us on the phone. It was late in the day, so we made arrangements to arrive at his place at 9 the next morning. After getting directions Andre said “No one has ever wanted to meet me before. I don’t have a lot of work to show you so I hope you are not disappointed. “. “Not to worry Andre, we love your work and will be delighted just to meet you , and if you have anything to show us, that’s good too.

Next morning after a hearty breakfast we arrived at Andre’s little house by the railway tracks precisely at 9, and there was Andre waiting on a bench by his front door. You could see he was both excited and a little anxious. After exchanging greetings, we went inside and met his wife Lucie. The place was small but filled with nice things including several of Andre’s carvings which were brought out and put on the dining room table.

A man enjoys an apple while his faithful dog looks on

Leo had briefed him on who we were and he was excited to think that we would be interested in him. “So you actually like my work?”. Why yes, we like it a lot. You have a unique style and energy which we find very attractive.” “The other pickers who come by tell me my works too rough and nobody will want it, but that’s the only way I can work. “You see this horse there.” We focused our attention on a very strong and expressive work horse. “That was my first carving. They took down some hydro poles about seven years ago and left them across the street. I cut up one of them into various sized “stumps”, and brought them home to burn, but then I started to look at them and after a while I saw this horse inside one of the stumps. I thought about it for a long time, and then one day in 1984 I just started chipping away at it, and after about ten hours this horse had emerged. That was it. I was hooked. That’s the way I’ve worked ever since. I see the form in the log, and then I carve, until I get it all out”. I don’t glue pieces together or sand them more than I have to. I like them rough and close to the way I see them in my head.” I can only work when I see the piece in the wood first, and then I can’t stop working until it is finished. At this point Lucie jumps in. “that’s right. Once Andre starts to carve I know I’ve lost him until he is finished. I drew the line when one night he put an old quilt on our bed and started to carve right there.”

Andre’s bust of Quebec strongman Louis Cyr

Andre represents what it is to be a natural, instinctive carver. With no training or even having much experience of other work, his work is truly inspired and highly individual. His work deals with what is the pure essentials of his subject. There is always a sense of vitality and movement.

We bought several pieces that day including his first carving of the horse which remains in our collection. We continued to go by Andre’s place a couple of times a year for the many years that we continued to travel to Quebec, buying most of his output each time. Even after we stopped going we would talk on the phone occasionally and he would describe what he had been working on. Often we would send him a cheque and he would mail us pieces sight unseen. Andre and Lucie have a hard life. He was born in Verdun on May 20^th, 1948 and has lived there all his life. He has barely eked out a living being an antique picker of the door knocker variety. For a while things went well for him when collector Pierre Laplante was buying almost everything he picked, but then they had a falling out and that stopped. Andre and Lucie have three daughters and one grandchild.

an old man and his sheep by Andre Laporte

A few years ago I called to see how he and Lucie were doing and he informed me that sadly one of their daughters had been in a terrible car accident was grievously injured, and that now he had to take her every day to the hospital for treatment. There was never enough money in what Andre does to make a happy and secure life, and I’m sure that without the love and support of Lucie and his family he would not be able to survive. The last time I called was in 2007 when our mutual friend Leo Fournier died. We had a great chat about Leo. How he was his own man, and Andre laughed and summarized it like this “I have always admired Leo. He lived exactly as he wanted to, and never cared what anybody thought. He loved to drink and he died drunk. It couldn’t have been better for him”. I don’t know how things have gone for Leo since. I should phone him. That last time we spoke he said he hadn’t made any new work in a couple of years and he was still mainly preoccupied with helping his daughter to get back to a happy and productive life. He and Lucie are the salt of the earth. I really hope that things are getting easier for them. He has real talent that in a better world would be enough to provide him and his family with a happy and secure life. Unfortunately, it rarely works out like that for artists in the world we live in today.

Andre surrounded by his creations

shadflyguy

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Tag Archives: Canadian folk art