Auction Finds

A 2nd look at red lips

sherry — Fri, 03 Sep 2010 16:50:52 +0000

I was nonchalantly perusing the shelves of glassware at one of my favorite auction houses yesterday when something stopped me. There on a middle shelf were five head vases, all with red lips.

This grouping caught my eye because I had written a blog post earlier this week about how red lips had been used in all manners to degrade black people. And there front and center was a display of images with red lips.

Two of them were a couple and appeared to be Asian, with red paint nicely applied to their lips (even the man). Another painted a lime green wore a hairstyle that looked African with red lips that were complimentary, the same as a vase with a brown-skinned image. A jet-black face sported large red lips. This type of piece is commonly known among collectors as a blackamoor.

Despite what it’s called, the image for me corresponded to how I’ve seen black people portrayed. It was a stark contrast sitting there among the other demure head vases.

Red lips alone are not stereotypical; it’s how they have been used against people that is. Humans have been painting their lips crimson for centuries. Ancient Egyptians applied a red substance to their kissers. So did Cleopatra and Queen Elizabeth I of England, although one article noted that the substances they used may have been toxic.

China dolls made in Germany in the 19^th century also had small painted red lips. Their heads, arms and legs were made of porcelain and their bodies were fabric. The dolls peaked between 1840 and 1890, but were made well into the 20^th century. There were also many reproductions – some well-done, others not.

The china refers to the porcelain the dolls were made of and not the country. The phrase itself has evolved into a stereotype of Asian women.

And we must not forget the Japanese Geisha, with her elaborate hairstyle, traditional clothing, white face and red lips. Entertainment by the women was practiced in the country for more than 400 years, although there are fewer of them today. Red lips on these women represented beauty.

The head vases – or planters, as they are sometimes called – were also interesting because of the type of images. Most of the ones I see at auction are white female heads in fashionable poses. One website noted that the vases were primarily made during the mid-20^th century – many manufactured in Japan – and were used by florists and sold in five and dime stores. They were made by various companies, and an estimated 10,000 different types were produced.

I don’t often see ones with nonwhite features. My auction buddy Janet got lucky, snapping them all up for about $5 each.

Awesome table lamps

sherry — Thu, 02 Sep 2010 14:46:32 +0000

This week, one of my favorite auction houses had one of its modern design sales. I don’t normally pay much attention to them because they consist largely of modern furniture – which does not go with my décor at home.

More importantly, though, the prices for many of the items – designer names you’d see in high-end home magazines – are much too rich for me. But this week, as I was admiring some of the furniture, I was struck by a lamp whose glass shade was in the shape of an urn.

Now that was a gorgeous lamp. Its base was gold leaf, and sitting there on the table it was making a bold statement – so bold that it seemed to be talking to me. The auction sheet described it as a “Murano Venetian Glass Trumpet Shade Table Lamp.” It later sold for $425.

Then I started to notice the other lamps in the room, and realized that this trumpet lamp had pretty heady company. Stationed throughout the room were other lamps just as lovely and striking as this one. Several were Murano glass, which has been made for centuries by artisans on the island of Murano, just off the coast of Venice, Italy, and is highly prized.

The most colorful at the auction was a trio of modern glass lamps that had a 1960s feel (like the wax separating inside a lava lamp). They were ruby, cobalt blue and gray, all cased glass, according to the auction sheet. There on the table, all lighted up, they glowed. One of them was apparently damaged. The lot sold for $110.

Next, I noticed a sleek lamp – also made of cased glass – with light brown stripes against an off-white background, with a white shade and scooped wooden base. It was described as a “Murano Venetian Art Glass Table Lamp. Cased glass.” Boy, would that look lovely on my table. It sold for $1,300.

Next, I found a round pot-bellied lamp – beige and brown, ceramic, painted and carved. It went unsold, even at $10. I was tempted, but passed on it.

Next was a Faux Lizard and Lucite lamp, shaped like a pencil. I wasn’t around when it sold.

The others included a pair of brass and metal “Leaping Gazelle” table lamps,. A pink art glass Murano table lamp – “flame shaped pink,” the auction sheet said. A pair of nude (female) figural lamps on a stone base. A chrome floor lamp topped with a fringed “Hula Skirt” shade in off-white. A Lucite stacked table lamp.

In another room, I came across another grouping of lamps – three in antique gilt, another in a brown earth tone. Three were described on the bid sheet as “Nielsen Mayne Star Table Lamps” and the other “Nielsen Mayne Earth Table Lamp.” They still bore the label from the store from where they had once resided: Christopher Norman Inc. in Manhattan, New York. All had list prices of $1,000 and $1,100. I was not around when they were auctioned.

I’m not a lamp person so I’m not sure if these were good buys or not, but I was just taken with the artistry of some of these lamps. Just amazing. Click on first photo below rather than viewing through PicLens.

[View with PicLens]

Black Americana cookie jars

sherry — Wed, 01 Sep 2010 17:10:53 +0000

I was a little disappointed as I took a seat inside an auction in progress last weekend. The pieces I had come to see – the black cookie jars – had already been sold.

I wasn’t going to buy any – most were ”mammy” images – but I was curious about how much they’d sell for. There were about 30 of them, and I saw them all sitting behind the auctioneer – sold.

They were among a lot of more than 850 cookie jars from two collectors. Looking at them lined up on long tables, I was amazed at the breadth of these collections. They were all sizes and shapes – from people to animals to castles to Little Red Riding Hood – and bore some familiar names – McCoy, Red Wing, Metlox, Shawnee.

From what I could see, they were in remarkably good condition and very clean. These cookie jars were loved.

“There’s a cookie jar for everyone,” a woman sitting next to me said. She was right. I watched as she bought a couple of them. Among the most popular were the Red Riding Hood jars, one of which went for $155. Many of the cookie jars with no-names sold for as low as $1, including Babe the Pig (which prompted the auctioneer to recall that silly Geico “Wee, Wee Wee Wee” piggy commercial).

But I was there for the Black Americana jars. At one point, I noticed that winning bidders had begun to walk up front behind the auctioneer and start toting away their buys. One was a black man with a cane carrying a cookie jar toward the back. I had seen him when I came in; he was the only black person among the 50 or so people at the auction.

Later, I turned and saw a grouping of the black cookie jars on a table in a back room. When I investigated, I found that they belonged to the man with the cane. He had bought most of the jars, paying from $85 to $170, he said. He’d keep some (he’s a collector; his wife had given him cookie jars as gifts) and will sell some. The photos on this post are the jars he bought at auction.

Fascinated, I wanted to know more about him. His name was Larry Whyte, and for 30 years he had been an auctioneer, he told me then and later in a phone interview:

Whyte, 65, and his wife, Barbara, 64, have a booth and showcase in Stroudsburg, PA, where they sell Depression glass and other antiques. Married 31 years, they both like antiques.

“My family went to a lot of auctions when I was young,” he said. ‘I decided to go to auctioneer school.”

He got his auctioneer’s license from the Mendenhall School of Auctioneering in High Point, N.C. He never had his own auction house, but instead conducted auctions around where he lives in Lancaster County, PA. Five years ago, he sold consignment items out of a 2,000-3,000 square-foot building. He’d sell mostly on Mondays, Wednesdays or Thursdays (which, he said, was a good auction day because folks don’t have much else to do on that day).

Not only was he an auctioneer, but he was also a real estate salesman and property manager (at one point, he managed up to 97 properties). “I did a lot of real estate,” he said. Was it lucrative? “Yeah, if you get it sold.”

Two years ago, while riding his motorcycle, he was involved in an accident that left him hospitalized for three months. “I almost died,” he said. When he was released from the hospital, he couldn’t walk. Now, he walks with a cane.

He stopped auctioneering: “I can’t do that kind of work anymore.” He’s sold off his 14-foot trailer (thought he’d get $500 for it, but instead got $1,350) and his auction tables (sold them to another auctioneer). A friend is expected to sell his 18-foot trailer.

Now he buys, sells and collects. He has four china cabinets full of items, including his Black Americana collection. His basement, he says, is crowded with stuff. “I like old stuff,” he said. “I like black stuff and I started collecting that.”

He’s sold Aunt Jemima pieces in the past and has seen the prices drop. Pieces that were selling for $500 a pop bring in only about $100 now, he said.

As for his cookie jars, he’ll sell some of them in his booth. One of the jars was made by a potter named Rick Wisecarver. On the auction sheet, the jar was listed as “Mammy with Churn, Wise Carver.” The Wisecarver cookie jar is the one to the far left among the cookie jars in the photo above. Next to it is a photo of Wisecarver’s maker’s mark.

In Googling, I found that Wisecarver was a painter and potter who made cookie jars with images of both blacks and Native Americans (these are said to be the most collectible). He lived in Roseville, OH, and started out as a painter before moving over to pottery-making at the suggestion of his mother, who owned a ceramics shop. He also made vases and other items. Wisecarver died in 2002.

Several sites warned of reproductions of his works, urging buyers to look for his marks: “Wilhoa’s Originals (a combination of his family and partner’s names), Cookie Classic, Rick Wisecarver, Rick W, the initials YW (for his mom) that is incised in the pottery, R Simms (partner) and RS. The number of the edition is often found, as well as the name of the actual jar,” according to the website about.com.

Whyte seems to have at least one najor winner on his hands.

Beyonce rewrites the ‘red lips’ stereotype

sherry — Tue, 31 Aug 2010 13:17:51 +0000

I was watching television one night recently when on screen popped Beyonce in a L’Oreal Paris commercial. Her lips were fire-red, and the lipstick seemed to be applied thickly, as if smeared on. Did her lips look large, too, the better for us to see them?

The commercial was a bit disconcerting because I had seen that image recently. It was the cover of a Christmas card with an image of a dark-skinned black woman with red oversized lips and wearing a kerchief. The card had no date on it but it was likely early 20^th century.

Beyonce in the commercial seemed to revel in her red lips and she worked it – proudly and unabashedly. A woman in control of her image. Unfortunately, that has not always been the case for us black women. The images I see at auction were never produced to make us feel proud. The evil minds who created them were intent on denigrating us.

Unlike most, the greeting card was not entirely grotesque. It was a tad close to being complimentary (even the message was in standard English and not dialect, which is usually the case). You can find the dark-skinned red-lips stereotype on noisemakers, dolls, postcards, magazine pages, kitchen towels, puppets, thermometers, products, food can labels, sheet music, in some decks of Old Maid cards and more. This was also the way black men and children (the worst seemed to be saved for them) were portrayed.

Interestingly, the image was always that of a person with dark brown skin or jet black. Beyonce was striking because she’s cinnamon-colored. I don’t recall ever seeing red lips on light-skinned blacks – always on the darkest of us, even though we were born in all colors of brown from the nonblack genes in our bodies.

I’m sure Beyonce will sell a lot of red lipstick to both black and white women. Why not? If you like red, wear it. It’s hard, though, for me to get past the history embedded in the image. Will Beyonce’s ad change that image? I doubt it. Unfortunately, her red lips combined with her entertainment persona play into another stereotype: the Jezebel.

These images are now called black memorabilia, Black Americana or black ephemera, and are hot sellers. Dealers and antique shop owners are no longer embarrassed to buy the stuff. No matter the message, no matter the characterization; they know that someone will pay a good price for it.

When black memorabilia comes up at the auctions I attend, it sparks a bidding war that boosts the prices. Most of the stuff is purely negative and reflects the animosity of the people who made it in this country and others far afield. I hate it, won’t buy it and could never imagine collecting it. I met a man once in Florida who collected it to take it off the market.

After seeing so many of these items at auction, I began to wonder where the red-lips image came from. I Googled and the first link was for black face and minstrel shows on wikipedia. In minstrel shows in the early 1800s in this country, white men painted their faces black with burnt cork or shoe polish and their lips red to make fun of black people. The shows were immensely popular and remained so far into the 20^th century. But whites weren’t the only minstrels: blacks created their own such theatrical shows.

Another creation, the Golliwogg, the work of a British woman in the 1890s, grew out of the minstrel shows. It was a doll with black skin, red lips and woolly hair. I also learned that one of my favorite artists, Miguel Covarrubias – who knew and mingled with some of the most famous people of the Harlem Renaissance – made a drawing called “Seventh Avenue Type” (1927) that’s a stone-throw away from the image. Caricaturist Al Hirschfeld nailed it with his “Apollo Chorine” from 1941.

I wasn’t able to find an answer to my question, but I do know the harm that such an image wreaked.

Unfortunately, the image is not a thing of the past. When Barack O’Bama was running for president, someone who could not fathom a black man as the leader of the country produced what was called the O’Bama waffles featuring him with dark red lips (at least they toned down the lips but the image was obvious). And there was also the O’Bama poster with him in reverse white face with red lips.

The images now – and then – were meant to make us feel like victims, but it’s not so easy anymore because now we can fight back.

So Beyonce, wear your red lips, but with style. Just remember the history.

No friends among bidders

sherry — Mon, 30 Aug 2010 15:18:02 +0000

I heard a regular bidder say recently that there are no friends at auction. In other words, it was every man or woman for himself or herself. If you saw something you wanted and another auctiongoer wanted it, too, well too bad.

There’s nothing wrong with that. We know that each person in the auction house is a competitor. A person you may be chatting with and chummy with one minute may be your nemesis the next minute. But they’re your nemesis in a non-threatening way. Bidders respect each other, and generally don’t get fired up when they miss out on an item. Sometimes our interests intersect; there are only so many items on the auction tables and we’re bound to want the same ones.

I’m sure there are some friends inside the auction houses, and work the same way as my buddy Janet and me. If we see something we like, we mention it to the other. That’s not collusion, which is illegal at auction houses and can get you thrown out. In fact, at one auction house where we are regulars, auctioneers have warned us when the other was bidding. Once, we were both vying for a small black fabric doll in a checkered dress. Standing in the back of the room, I bidded on the doll – which was actually a pin – and then Janet bidded from where she was sitting near the front. Janet backed off when the auctioneer mentioned that we were bidding against each other.

I tend to walk around a lot at the auction houses, re-examining items or chatting with people. Two people I talk to regularly are vintage camera buffs like myself. And we are competitive. One person in particular searches me out – likely to gauge my interest in cameras he’s spotted on the auction tables. We normally compare flaws in the cameras (usually a shutter that does not work). Sometimes he wins the camera; sometimes I do. We don’t get upset because there’s always a next time and many other cameras.

We’re not exactly friends but we respect each other’s penchant for vintage cameras, so we share. There are others, though, who do not and I call them the lone rangers. They do very little socializing and don’t talk much to anyone, likely to keep their objectivity when the bidding starts. Having no friends or acquaintances means that they don’t have to feel any sympathy for you during the bidding.

An out-of-state dealer who comes to one of my favorite auction houses is one of them. The man is quietly focused, unwilling to engage in conversation (I’ve tried) and bids on everything. For some regulars, you know their interests – the two dealers who buy art glass or the one who buys vintage clothing or the woman who buys dolls. It’s hard to tell what this out-of-state dealer specializes in. Usually if he wants something, he’ll keep bidding until he gets it.

The other is also a non-socializing relentless bidder, but she does seem to specialize. Once, she bid a box of vintage Christmas cards up to $100 (the rest of us looked at each other incredulously because they weren’t worth it). She has also outbidded me on some vintage sewing items (I used to sew a lot and am always looking for unusual sewing notions or tools). This piece was a handmade notebook with stories about lace pieces someone had made and attached to the pages. Afterward, I asked to look at the book, and it was amazing. The buyer said that she loved handmade items of this sort. I couldn’t fault her for that; so do I. She had also outbidded Janet a couple times, once on a sepia photograph of young black musicians.

Another lone ranger – he does have at least one female friend he talks to – buys everything but doesn’t know what he’s going to do with the stuff. We’ve heard that he does not sell anything now but plans to start selling “someday.” He has outbid Janet and me on black memorabilia (the positive kind), and it just riles us. We want to keep these remnants of black history for ourselves and he has them sitting in his overloaded rental apartment collecting dust.

I do have one competitor who has the same tastes as me, so we go head to head sometimes. At auction recently, some black postcards and greeting cards came up for sale. From where I sat, I could see that most were the red-lip caricatures that I abhor. I could also see a greeting card with a woman on the front that appeared to be a little more complimentary. That one I found interesting. So, I started bidding and then someone standing behind me kept bidding against me. Since I really didn’t want the other cards, I stopped. When I turned I realized that it was my usual competitor. I asked to see the card: It was a Christmas card with a black woman – with red lips but not so awful – on the front.

Later, he gave the card to me to keep (a very nice gesture). But that’s not uncommon: The winning bidder will sometimes give you or sell for a small price the one item you wanted in a lot that he or she won.

Sometimes, if not friends, there are decent people at auctions.

Belle Kogan – a female first designer

sherry — Fri, 27 Aug 2010 11:20:58 +0000

I didn’t see much that moved me on the box-lots table in the back room of one of my favorite auction houses recently. Not until I spotted a light beige vase interspersed among some small junk on one tray.

I turned the vase over, looking for the maker and saw the words “Red Wing.” I recognized the name, although I didn’t know much about this manufacturer. It didn’t matter, though, because the vase itself was lovely.

It had a smooth creamy glaze, very clean and simple lines, and the top left extended into a curlique. I couldn’t find a nick, chip or scratch on it. Inside, though, was the remnant of a flower-shop foam block with holes left by the stems of artificial flowers.

I watched and waited for the auctioneer to finally get to the table with the tray. The auctioneer started the bidding at his usual $20, then $10, then $5, then $2 and then $1. I got the tray for a buck.

At home, I found the website for Red Wing and learned more about the history of the company. The site seemed to be focused more on the art pottery and stoneware the company was producing now, not on the creations from decades ago.

Then I tried looking for the vase based on the model number on the bottom – B1418A – and found a question regarding it on the Red Wing Collectors Society website. It seemed that my piece was actually a nesting vase that sat in a nook on the front of a larger vase #B1418. The pair was valued at $50-$55.

Curious about what the large vase looked like, I searched for it and came across the name of the designer: Belle Kogan. She created the design for Red Wing in 1952. Intrigued, I Googled her name and then I was hooked. That’s what I love about auctions; you never know whom you’ll be introduced to.

Kogan had a fascinating story: She was among the first women industrial designers in the country, and worked her trade at a time when a woman’s job was inside the home. In a 1939 interview with the Brooklyn Eagle newspaper (and quoted in wikipedia), Kogan, a white woman, recounted an incident showing what she was up against:

“(a) large company that manufactured large electrical appliances . . . wrote in answer to a letter of mine that I should come out to see them on my next trip to Ohio,” she said. “They ignored the fact that my name was ‘Belle’ and addressed their letter to Mr. Bell Kogan. When I arrived, the shock was unbelievable: the engineers decided they couldn’t work with a woman. So I collected my fee of $200 plus expenses and left.”

How amazingly dumb.

Kogan was born in Russia in 1902, and her family moved to Allentown, PA, in 1906. She got a scholarship to the Pennsylvania Academy of Art, but chose instead to go to Pratt Institute in Brooklyn. She opened her own firm in New York in 1932 (or 1931, depending on what you read online) and created works for a number of companies.

She was one of the first to experiment with plastics, and made Bakelite jewelry and melamine dinnerware. For Zippo, she designed cigarette lighters – which are said to be very rare – that were sold around 1938 and 1939. She also designed silver pieces for such companies as Reed & Barton. She also designed a novelty clock.

In 1938, Red Wing Potteries commissioned her to design shapes for 100 new vases, which became known as the “Belle Kogan 100.” The pottery-maker had been around since the mid-1860s, founded by German immigrants in Red Wing, MN, near the Mississippi River. It mostly made salt-glazed stoneware pottery – crocks, jugs and bowls – for use in the home, but branched out into art pottery and more in the 1930s. Its stoneware and art pottery are considered very collectible.

Kogan worked with the company until the 1960s, creating lines of dinnerware, kitchen ware, cookie jars, vases, window boxes and bowls. The Smithsonian Institution has papers, sketchbooks, photographs and other documents from1920 to 1986 that she donated. She died in 2000.

As for my vase, I wasn’t able to find one that looked exactly like it, which is unfortunate because I’d love to see what color combination was used with it. You can see some of Kogan’s other designs on the website of the Minnesota Historical Society. The site Wing Tips has a list of her Red Wing designs.

It was good meeting you, Belle Kogan.

A wedding dress on the cheap

sherry — Thu, 26 Aug 2010 16:22:17 +0000

The two wedding dresses were lying on top of a box under a back table at the auction house. I was surprised to find them because it’s not often that I see new – and very clean – wedding dresses at auction.

Usually, they are vintage wedding gowns, a little faded from storage, their colors way off-white. But these two looked to be pristine – and so snowy. They were in their original boxes, and their interiors were stuffed with tissue paper. They had the typical wedding-dress look with white beading.

But how did they end up here? Usually items at auction are passed on by relatives after someone dies and the family has no need for their stuff. These were obviously not in that category.

I wasn’t sure how well these dresses would sell, though. The bidder would have to be a dealer who sold clothes or someone on the hunt for a wedding dress at that particular time and was lucky enough to come across one here. The other issue was size: One of the dresses looked to be a 12, the other a bit larger for a buxomy woman.

I was sure that the highest bidder would get them at a great price compared to what they’d cost in a retail store or online. At this auction house’s last vintage clothing sale, an Art Deco ivory and silk embroidered wedding gown went for $20.

I doubt if these dresses ever lived at Kleinfeld Bridal in New York, where the TLC show “Say Yes to the Dress” is filmed. I’ve seen the show a couple of times, and the gowns are gorgeous. But they are also expensive – in the thousands of dollars. At Kleinfeld, brides-to-be – and family members – are filmed as they choose from a selection of designer dresses.

Online, brides-to-be may be able to find dresses in the hundreds of dollars, but who wants to buy a wedding dress they can’t try on? And I’m sure we all remember the Philadelphia woman from a few years ago who was scammed when she tried to buy a Monique Lhuillier-designed dress on eBay. The scammer even admitted to her that she had been scammed. That situation, though, had a happy ending.

Or can you ever forget the Carol Burnett episode when she mimicked Scarlett O’Hara in “Gone With the Wind” by wearing the drapes from her window. I loved Carol Burnett; she was so naturally funny. (The Harry Ransom Center at the University of Texas in Austin is seeking donations to refurbish Scarlett’s green curtain dress, wedding dress and other costumes from the movie for a 75^th anniversary exhibition in 2014.)

At the auction for the two wedding dresses, there wasn’t a thundering of bidders. As usual, the auctioneer started high – way past $100 – but ended up at $5 before someone made the first bid. The bidding proceeded back-and-forth between two people before it stopped at a whopping $25. The highest bidder had choice and took the smaller size.

Then the bidding started again at $5, and stayed there. The other bidder got the second dress. Now that was a steal.

Why no one wants my dark-skinned doll

sherry — Wed, 25 Aug 2010 15:23:54 +0000

She has sat through several flea markets, this dark-complexioned wooden doll I got at auction a few years ago. She has watched as her companions – two light-colored fabric dolls in dresses with Asian script – were sold. So what that they were sold cheaply, but at least someone wanted them.

But not this doll. She was on the flea market table again over the weekend – front and center, waiting for some little girl or some nostalgic woman to take her home. Most people ignored her; only one woman picked her up to look her over. And then plopped her back down.

An articulated doll, she has a very dark brown color and woolly hair. She carries a cute little basket of wool, a piece of yarn and a small wooden knitting needle (there were two of them but I’ve had her so long that one has been lost).

Why doesn’t anyone want my little dark-complexioned doll? It slowly dawned on me as I watched her sitting there on the flea market table that maybe she was too dark for most people’s tastes. Which was interesting because some of the most beautiful dolls I saw at the International Black Doll Show and Sale in Philadelphia two months ago were as dark as her – and me.

Maybe she was ignored because she was a craft doll, or that she had a country look, or that she was made of wood or that she looks too homely. I don’t think so. I think it was because of her color.

Her rejection reminded me of the experiment conducted in the 1940s by psychologists Dr. Kenneth and Mamie Clark, and repeated several times over the last decade. The Clarks used black and white dolls to determine how a group of black 3- to 7-year-olds in Harlem perceived themselves. The psychologists found over and over that the children preferred white dolls, would rather play with white dolls and said white dolls looked more like them.

White was perceived as good and pretty, and black as bad and ugly. The psychologists concluded that the children had feelings of inferiority and self-hatred engendered by the prejudice, discrimination and segregation they were experiencing in their young lives.

Remember that these were children who saw no one like them in the media, watched as their mothers and fathers and aunts and uncles were victimized, and read little of their people’s historical contributions in textbooks. Even in their own families and neighborhoods, they were confronted with the brown paper-bag test (to determine if a person was too dark to join a club), bleaching creams to make them lighter, straightening combs to make their hair silky, and the admonishment: “If you’re white, all right; if you’re brown, stick around; if you’re black, step back.”

But the Clark’s study was 70 years ago. That can’t be true now – after the positive messages of the black power movement and James Brown’s “Say it Loud, I’m Black and I’m Proud,” and black people starring in and making movies, and working not as maids and janitors but in nontraditional professions. Certainly, our self-images have been elevated.

Maybe, maybe not:

In 2005, Harlem teenager Kiri Davis recreated the study in a New York day care center and found similar results. In her 2007 documentary “A Girl Like Me,” she also interviewed teens who talked about the images they were raised with. As I watched the video, I wanted Davis to ask the children why they chose one doll over the other. (I’ve read stories where journalists failed to ask those very important follow-up questions, to get at the why. It drives me crazy.)

In 2009, Good Morning America conducted the study again. It found that most of its black children wanted to play with the black dolls and chose them as the nicest. They said both dolls were beautiful.

Earlier this year, CNN tried it again (including with children from my state of Georgia). Most of the black and white children they tested preferred white dolls over black dolls, although the black children’s choices were not as strong. The black children in the CNN video I watched chose the darkest skin tone – the color of my wooden doll – as bad.

In the study, Anderson Cooper asked the “why” question. Said one little girl, as she rubbed the dark brown skin on her forearm: “I don’t like the way brown looks” because it looks nasty (she said subsequently that it “sometimes” looks nasty). She admitted that she didn’t know why she felt that way, though.

The studies showed that this notion of white being all right is still very prevalent, embedding itself consciously and unconsciously in us and our children. Unfortunately, too many of us black adults still feel some self-hatred, believing that if not us then the black person sitting next to us is – as the children said in the study – “bad.”

When my wooden doll is not on a flea market table, she has her own place in the nook of a piano that I no longer play. She seems at home there, and I believe that’s where I’ll keep her instead of putting her through the rejection. I think she’s lovely – coarse hair, dark complexion and all.

They remind me of Big Mama

sherry — Tue, 24 Aug 2010 17:32:24 +0000

Every now and then when I’m at auction, I see a piece of furniture or some other item that reminds me of my grandmother. Things that belonged to her and represented who she was to me.

Annie Lee didn’t have a lot of material things, but she had a lot of children. She lived at a time when families were large, and women kept the house, birthed the babies, fed them, clothed them and raised them, and tended to their men. My grandfather worked the farm with his older children. I grew up there, but by the time I was older it was no longer a working farm, so I escaped that drudgery. I don’t think farming is a pleasant memory for my mother and her siblings.

I don’t recall hearing my grandmother complain about her life, because most women just didn’t expect much more – black women in particular. She did have her church and her faith, which sustained her. And I can’t forget her church hats.

My memory is of a fair-skinned woman in cotton print dresses and what we called slides (comfortable worn flat shoes she could just slide her feet into) who was one of the best cooks in the world (just like your grandmother, I’m sure). Here are auction items from the past that remind me of her:

The metal porch chairs. Hers were red with white square centers in a design with holes in the back and seat to keep your backsides cool. I spent many a summer on the front porch sliding back and forth in the long glider chair (I came across a restored one on the web selling for $1,000. Wow!). I found two metal chairs at auction once: One was painted brown and the other one white.

The chifforobe in her bedroom that she kept her clothes in. It was a wooden piece of furniture, with one long door with mirror, a short door and drawers (at least that’s what my sister remembered. I just remembered that she had one).

Her cast-iron skillet, the best way in the world to fry the chickens she raised and the corn bread we couldn’t resist. I have one of those skillets in my kitchen (any good Southern cook does), but don’t use it often, though.

The Ball mason jars for canning figs, peaches, blackberries, pears. We picked blackberries in the wild, and to this day, they are one of my most favorite fruits. I have vivid memories of being pricked by thorns on the blackberry bushes and being stung once by a wasp. Those creatures seemed to live around blackberries and fought with us for the juicy treats.

The aprons she wore (and likely made). Today, they’d be called vintage. I recall seeing a box of aprons on the outside table at an auction recently, and they were readily snapped up. Fatimah Ali, who writes the Healthy Southern Comfort blog, wrote about inheriting aprons from her “cousin” Sis.

And her clip-on earbobs. That’s what we used to call them. The brass clips on the back would eat into your flesh after an hour or so of wearing them. Hers were usually simple, nothing fancy. They were the only type she wore, along with the nut brown face powder that she loved.

What things remind you of your grandmother?

Playing around with doll furniture

sherry — Mon, 23 Aug 2010 16:26:52 +0000

The woman peered into the little white paper bag, not sure of what she’d find inside. “Is this doll furniture?” she asked. Yes, it is. She then picked up the bag and began taking out the plastic pieces:

Fireplace mantle. Bed. Upright phonograph. Dresser and mirror. Kitchen cabinet with sink. Refrigerator. Sofa. High chair. About 25 pieces of tiny doll-house furniture, some a little warped. (Click the photo below to get a full view of the furniture.)

She didn’t say much while she was examining them, but by the look on her face I could tell that she was remembering – the memory of her own doll house as a little girl. Many of us have those memories. I don’t recall having a doll house, but as an adult I can’t resist the cute little furniture.

The woman was faced with a dilemma: She loved the pieces and wanted them, but wasn’t sure how she’d used them. She wasn’t a collector (and I’m sure she no longer had her doll house), so like many of us she needed a good reason to buy them. Uncertain, she finally left, said she wanted to look around a bit more – and think about what she’d do with the furniture – and come back.

And she did return. “I brought my husband,” she said, and behind her dutifully trailed a tall man who seemed okay with the idea of helping his wife decide on doll furniture. He followed her to the bag, she showed him the pieces and they talked among themselves. Still uncertain, she left again without buying.

The woman was one of several people who peeked into the bag of furniture pieces at a flea market last weekend, but one of only two who was interested enough to take them out. It’s almost the same at auction: Most people avoid doll furniture unless they are collectors or dealers, and there are plenty of collectors. Some collect different types of dolls – Vintage Barbie is highly collectible and one of the most collected, along with her early outfits – doll houses, doll furniture, doll accessories and anything else doll-related.

Two months ago, I attended the International Black Doll Show and Sale in Philadelphia and met women – there weren’t any men as I recall – who sold antique and vintage dolls, and others who made their own dolls. The hand-made ones were some of the loveliest dolls I had ever seen. These women were artists.

I had dolls as a child. What little girl didn’t? Those were our free-from-worry times, when we could escape to a make-believe world where we and our dolls could be and do anything we wanted. The good times, as Al Green called them (but he wasn’t singing about dolls. Beware: I started listening to “For The Good Times” for this blog post, and couldn’t resist clicking ”How to Mend A Broken Heart.” What memories!).

I recall as a junior or senior in high school making miniature doll-house furniture. Looking back, it’s amazing to me that I actually did it. I don’t recall much of the making of the furniture (such as where I got the wood, cut it into pieces and glued it together), but I recall why. It was for a French assignment that a classmate and I were working on. We had to come up with a novel way of learning the French terms for furniture pieces. My brainstorm was to make the pieces and attach the names to them.

I’m sure we got a good grade for our innovation. I gave the furniture to my teacher for her little girl.

As for the woman at the flea market: When she came back a third time, the furniture was gone . Someone else had seen the pieces, taken them out of the bag, fell in love with them on first sight and bought them on the spot. The first woman bought an early version of the Sorry game instead.

Sometimes, you just have to just let nostalgia take over. Doll furniture waits for no one. Tell me about your experiences with dolls and doll houses.