Mix It Up with “Stranger” Collectibles

by Barbara Miller Beem

Talk about odd: The other day, a headline in the home and design section of my morning paper read, “Embrace stranger things in your space.” What struck me as unusual was not the subject matter but rather the fact that I hadn’t written the story. Because when it comes to incorporating unexpected collectibles into home décor, I know a thing or two. And at the end of the day, what’s the point of collecting if you can’t enjoy what once caught your eye at a shop, sale, or auction?

Case in point: On April 6, 2001, the Smithsonian National Museum of American History in Washington, D.C., unveiled “Paint by Number: Accounting for Taste in the 1950s.” Not only did this exhibition prove to be a good topic for an interesting published feature story (or three), it also set in motion a quirky fifteen-year collecting frenzy in the Beem household.

This wasn’t my first, er, brush with PBNs. Back in the day, my mom stayed up late at night to paint kimono-clad women on a toleware tray, as well as a rather large depiction of Jesus praying in the Garden of Gethsemane. Sad to say, her work was lost in a long-ago move. I just hope that someone else might still be appreciating her meticulous painting. But Mom was not the only insomniac caught up in the craze. Far from it. As it turns out, President Ike and his buddies, including FBI Director J. Edgar Hoover, burned the midnight oil, staying in the lines.
Long story short, having visited the aforementioned exhibition, Beem family vacations that summer centered around checking out relatives’ attics (their secret was out!) and antique malls and flea markets in the mid-Atlantic region and beyond. Back home, our living room rapidly turned into a gallery, with pictures hung floor to ceiling, inspired by Haussner’s Restaurant. (Google that now-gone Baltimore landmark, and you’ll see what I mean.)

It was inevitable that a gallery “opening” would ensue. It was, all in attendance agreed, a great party. Meanwhile, friends, family members, and even our poodle’s groomer started leaving their “finds” on our doorstep. Donations ranged from family artwork to “treasures” redeemed on dumpster-diving excursions. Like many collections, this one began with no guidelines. Not surprisingly, then, it wasn’t long before things were getting out of control.

And that’s when the decision was made to take down every single one of the pictures from the living room walls. The numerous holes in the plaster were filled. A fresh coat of paint was applied. But more importantly, the collection was refined and honed down. To better display the best of the best, a picture rail, with the help of a handyman, was installed, thereby making it possible to enjoy rotating (and themed) exhibits of choice paintings. What ensued included April in Paris, Christmas in July, and my personal favorite, an amazing array of Leonardo da Vinci’s The Last Supper.

But all good things must come to an end, which is to say, there came a time to downsize. I pretty much followed the rule—the one that says you can only keep one item from every collection. Among my exceptions were a few PBN-decorated pieces of toleware, including tissue holders and a sweet serving tray done by someone else’s mom. When it comes to selecting one representative picture, though, the choice was an easy one, that being an early example entitled Journey Thru Space. Perfectly painted, this uncut triptych now hangs in the
living room alongside a hundred-year-old hall mirror and an even older image of a Baltimore city park. It more than holds its own.

That’s not all. In the den, there’s a Lady Diana mourning sampler that shares a wall with older hand-stitched pieces. On a handcrafted wooden plate rack, mid-century souvenir and calendar plates mingle with three “collector’s plates” picturing the Beatles. I know, I know. These plates were not purchased in hopes that they would someday increase in value. But they do lend an air of fun and make me smile.

But wait, there’s more. While seeking inspiration in my home office, I can gaze upon a framed 1964 mailing from The Official Beatles Fan Club, a response to a fan letter from yours truly. Some movie posters, a few hot-pink throw pillows, and a vintage-inspired chevron-patterned rug (think Barbie’s first bathing suit) offset more serious pieces in the room, including an old brass floor lamp, a Depression-era red maple chest, and a mid-century Ethan Allen end table from my girlhood room.

So what does this all come down to? Quite simply, don’t be afraid to mix things up a bit. There’s plenty of room for serious collections. But an interjection of the unexpected is good for the heart and soul. Just as we’re encouraged to buy what we like, there is a corollary to that: Lighten things up in your living space by displaying your favorite (and unexpected) things.

What makes you smile? Tell me about it at thecharmjoac@gmail.com.