I've never been one for photographing stuff I own and blogging about it.  Not that I don't like reading about other people's stuff.  Nah, I love it - just not big on talkin' about MY stuff. But today I'm walking around the house loving a few "new acquisitions" and y'know what - it's my blog and I'll blog what I want to! So here goes.

Latvia is in to wooden eco children's toys.  Lots of new small businesses making versions of rattles, push along cars, puzzles and the like.  I bought this truck above with pegs/people last weekend at a market - one of those buys where you see the item, and then desperately try to think of WHO you can buy it for, so that you can justify the purchase.  For some reason this chunky approximation of a car spoke to me.  But in the end I've got it home and I'm loving it so much that I've decided it's MINE, and the unlucky recipient won't be receiving it (so sorry, Gabriel - will be sending you a different "welcome to the world" pressie soon).  I was wondering why I had this affiliation with this toy until today I suddenly remembered that I had a similar toy as a child - except it was a train, but the pegs/people were almost exactly the same - only mine were painted.  So there y'go, we are always subconsiously trying to get back to our happy childhoods, aren't we?


Second is this artwork by Sigismund Vidbergs.  A pic that used to be owned by my grandmother, who was an artist and a bit of a collector.  This pic sat next to her phone, and I always noticed it when walking in to her apartment.  The artist was fairly well-known in Latvia in the 1930s, and I was aware of him mostly through my interest in Latvians in post-war refugee camps - because Vidbergs ended up in these camps and illustrated quite a few programmes and books while he was in exile.  His detailed black and white pen and ink drawings are quite distinctive.  I've put the painting up in the kitchen, and have had a pleasant surprise all day when walking past the once-blank wall.


Oh ok, one more artwork - which I also love and is on the wall above the sink.  I look at it when washing dishes :)  It was given to me by my godfather after much nagging and pleading from me, and is called "Meditation upon Death", by Anton Solomoukha, 1979.  It was originally bought from a gallery by a dear family friend, who has now passed away, but who was cluey enough to start distributing his wealth of antiques and artworks about 10 years before he died.  Seeing as he had no children, many of us were recipients of his parts of his collection.  Gotta admit Solomoukha's mediation on death doesn't have the same cognitive affect on me.  I see a mother and child, perhaps in transit, on a bus or train...  life, parenthood, future generations... Isn't it interesting how objects are what we make them.  The associations we each have with objects that give them meaning...   sorry, taking off my museum curator's smock now.  Thanks for listening.