the joys of repurposing

Straight off the bat, I’m going to come clean. I am an HGTV junkie. Give me a room to redecorate, a house to makeover, a choice between the urban loft and the ranch in the suburbs, a floor to tile and I’m loving life!

And I have to admit, it’s a real rush to see one of those celebrity decorators use something in a room that’s identical to something I’ve just brought into Antiques on Cannon. It happened just this week when I bought in a little Formica bistro table (paired with two turquoise [!!!] swivel chairs) and then saw its twin being used in a pricey kitchen makeover.

So when “repurposing” got “discovered” in TV land, well, I was one happy girl. Just so we’re all on the same wave length, repurposing is taking an object originally made for one purpose and extending its life by converting it to use as something new. Like using vintage furnishings, it’s the ultimate recycling.

There’s a natural division, in my mind, to repurposed things. There are the very straightforward: this used to be a machine mold. I put a piece of mirror in it and now it is my bathroom mirror. Easy. Then we have the gentleman I wrote about a few weeks ago who gathered up all the lampshade forms from a factory that was closing, and started welding them together to make table bases. Oh the creative mind!

Once you get in that mindset, it just starts to flow. I picked up a terrific old leather steamer trunk last week. With the addition of some legs it will make a great coffee table (and your friends will be so envious!). Then there’s the fantastic bar we have in the shop; look closely and you’ll see it was a sewing machine cabinet that someone lovingly re-outfitted. And now that I think about it, we have another bar – perfect for a rec room – the countertop is a salvaged ship’s hatch. Bottoms up!

A cart from a textile mill becomes a kitchen island. A stack of suitcases is transformed into an end table. Mount a ship’s wheel on a base, top it with glass, and a coffee table is revealed. A large painted oriental wooden screen is reborn as a headboard, as is a fabulous three part etched and gilded mirror.

Back in the days when I was working as a psychotherapist, I used to think my work with people was like peeling back the layers of an onion; the deeper you went, the more compelling the story. I find the same intrigue with repurposed found objects; they all have a story, you just have to get under a few layers to find it. Last week I met someone who was selling out the contents of a factory. Lots of low carts and high carts and desks make of steel grid, painted different colors. By the time I got there he only had one left in the size I wanted and it was covered in contact paper, but I was willing to chance it that I could clean it up.

As I was peeling off the layers I was thinking “Wouldn’t this be great painted high gloss black, fitted with glass shelves and decked out with chrome cocktail shakers and barware?” Yes, it would. But underneath all the layers, written on the grey paint on the top surface is “Annie’s Cart – Carding Room”. A story. A piece of American history. A person, who worked in a mill, in the carding room, who everyday sat down with her cart and did her job, carding the wool that made the clothes that our grandparents proudly wore, looking so serious, in that picture we have on our dresser. Annie’s story. The cart’s story. Our story.

So I’m holding off on the painting. I’ll leave that decision to the next person. Meanwhile, a woman named Annie who will always be unknown to us, has a place in the present here on Cannon Street.

marilyn