S.R. Wild: Artist and Graphic Designer

WWII Junk from my Father's Father

Today, my parents came to town to help me celebrate the last day of my week-long birthday extravaganza by taking me out to some of my favorite kinds of places: the flea market in Waterbury, a church tag sale, and an army surplus store. I didn’t get anything, except for a hummus wrap, but my father surprised me with an amazing box of my grandfather’s WWII junk. He was an airplane mechanic, so his job was to keep our boys in the sky.

The most interesting thing is his mess kit. He scratched into the metal the names of all the countries he was in: Okinawa, Guam, Japan, Africa, France, China, Italy, and India.

An altimeter from a Japanese plane.

The Pilot’s Flight Operating Instructions has some great illustrations and photographs I’ll have to steaaaa… appropriate some day.

The nameless, faceless head is modeling a lovely pair of headphones and a throat microphone.

There are also postcards, matchbooks, photographs, random tools, and newspaper clippings I haven’t completely gone through yet.

All these recent junk acquisitions make me think of one thing: more shelves. Magpie… Pinky… quick, jump in the jalopy… to the hardware store! Oh right, they’re closed.

My father also got me a first aid kit that was blessed and hand packed by Director of Homeland Security Tom Ridge. I really needed one of these because I tend to get injured often. Plus, it came with cool biohazard stickers that I could put on the sandwich bag that contains my thumb if I cut it off with my jigsaw.

And my mom made me my annual birthday pie (cake is so bourgeois), which I should start working on now. The photo may look bad, but I assure you the pie is not

I usually don’t look forward to my birthday or do anything for it, but this whole week has been great: I met up with someone almost every other day to go to junk, antique, and used clothing shops; ate a lot of food; didn’t accomplish much, but I did build a few things; spent very little time in front of the computer; watched a lot of movies; slept a lot; and forgot what an alarm clock sounds like. Alas, all things must end and I have to go back to the real world of waking up at a specified time, interacting with other humans, and work. I haven’t thought about work all week, which is good because it’s going to be busy — crap, I just thought about it.

From the Attic of an Opera House to the Kitchen Table

A friend found numerous old day books and scraps of wallpaper in the attic of her restaurant, which used to be an opera house. Most of it was thrown away, but she saved some of it for me.

The day books are from the 1920s. I don’t think they’re from the opera house because the entries list flat iron, gas, oil, nails, and other goods found in a hardware store — unless it was a hardware store by day and an opera house by night. They might be from the hardware store across the street.

Whenever I look at something old with handwriting in it I’m always amazed by the beautiful penmanship. It seems like everyone had good penmanship up until a few decades ago. Maybe a lot of people still do, I just don’t see it because everything is typed. Then again, I see a lot of handwriting at work when someone makes text corrections and the majority write barely legible squiggles.

Inside one of the books, posters were used to separate the years.

The wallpaper is so old and brittle it falls apart when someone thinks about touching it. I don’t have enough to cover my walls, but I’m sure I can find other things to cover. It’s hard to tell in the photos, most of it is in relief.

I’m a Fool for Type

Last weekend, I organized the wood type I acquired last year. First, I organized them by letter — I have a lot of the letters O, N, and E, but few or none of the letters I was looking for (S, R, and W) when I bought them. Then, I grouped the letters by typeface — I have some lovely specimens.

I did this because I was going to sell some of them. I posted them on craigslist and a few interested people contacted me. But, after going through it all, I realized how much I love these letters and I don’t think I can part with any of them (even though I can get $5 to $20 a piece). I really enjoy looking at them and I’m looking forward to using them in my work. At least I finally organized it all. Plus, instead of keeping them in boxes, now they’re displayed throughout my apartment.

For even thinking about selling these gorgeous, not-so-easy-to-find letters, I realized that I’m a total…

Another Suitcase

I acquired another suitcase to add to my collection — I now have three. This is my favorite one so far: it’s brown and striped, two of my favorite things.

In case you’re curious, yes, I use them when I travel. The concierge at the hotel asked me what I used my “old school” suitcases for. He was surprised when I said I used them for clothes.

Ste. Laurent is my new favorite street in Montréal. China Town is on one end and the rest is lined with army surplus, junk, and vintage clothing shops for blocks. It’s heaven.

Best Seats in the House

I scored some old movie theatre seats last week, something I’ve wanted ever since my mother bounced me on her knee while we watched Rear Window. After removing old gum, black gooey soda resin, and other substances I don’t want to think about, I now have theatre seating in my kitchen. Now, I can sit down with some popcorn and watch water boil.

Here at S.R. Wild Industries we keep our overhead low by taking everyone’s junk and pass the savings on to you!

A Monumental Find

Where there is much light,
the shadows are the deepest
—Goethe

Fellow DIYer (she roasts her own coffee beans!) and junk hunter, Laura, found monumental drafting supplies for sale on craigslist. She asked if I wanted to split this load of potentially interesting stuff and I agreed without hesitation.

Last night, we drove Barre to pickup our loot and brought it back to my apartment to sift through it all. We got hundreds of drawings; metal letter stencils of various sizes in numerous cigar boxes and wooden cases; dozens of hand-lettered type specimens; and a 1947 edition of the American Monument Association’s Memorial Symbolism, Epitaphs and Design Types.

The woman who sold us the supplies inherited them from her father after he died. He created the lettering and designs that were engraved on gravestones.

It was odd looking at the lettering and drawings for someone’s grave that was done by someone who is now deceased. I wonder if he designed his own gravestone.

Todad's Adventure

This afternoon, Laura and I went to Montpelier to walk around, take photos, and… wait, why did we go there? It was a let’s go here and see where we end up sort of adventure — my favorite kind. It was far better than my original plan: hunkering down at home and working.

Along the way, we stopped in Waterbury. A reader of this fine blog sent me a list of places to find junk, ephemera, and the like. On the list there was a thrift store in Waterbury, so I thought we’d check it out. The store was closed, so we walked around and found something just as good: a rummage sale.

With creative spelling like that, you have to go in.

The selection was decent, and the prices were phenomenal. I walked out with a few fine items.

I’ve been looking for a book like this. My potty skills aren’t what they used to be, so I need to brush up.

I also got a three-piece pinstriped suit. It’s a tad big on me. Luckily, my tailor was with me and said she could fix it.

A woman insisted I take this; I obliged.

This was the largest and most expensive item I purchased ($4).

After rummaging around, we headed to Montpelier for aimless wandering, Thai food, and photos.

Older

srwild.com v14.0 :: © MM–MMIX S.R. Wild