Sad Cowboy Story

Today I was armed with the glamorous task of sorting, pricing and packaging a box of photos that I accumulated over the summer.  A picture of a geographically malapropos statue for a tiny Texas oil boom town in the 1920s incited a little history lesson....Apparently in 1917, 21 year old Charles H. Noyes fell from his horse trying to rope a calf and died.  His parents, completely grief stricken, commissioned the famous Pompeo Coppini to sculpt a statue in memory of their only child. When Coppini traveled to the modest Noyes ranch in 1919 to discuss the statue, he had his doubts about Noyes' ability to pay what amounts to a quarter of a million dollars today, but Noyes assured Coppini that he was prepared to pay twice that.  His bridle, boots, and saddle were sent to Chicago to help the sculptor, but since the boy had had only three pictures taken in his life, his parents had to travel to Coppini's Chicago studio when it was time to sculpt the face.  After a few adjustments to the sculpture, Mr. Noyes told Coppini "Please do not touch his face again, for that is our dear Charlie."   Mr. and Mrs Noyes sold the ranch and did not return for the unveiling, stating that they could not bear to see their son again.

Coppini's statue of Chas H. Noyes watchin over Ballinger Texas. Coppini's work can be found in Italy, Mexico but closer to home, he is known for the Cenotaph honoring the Alamo defenders, sculptures around the Texas state capitol and the Littlefield Fountain in front of the University of Texas tower.

 

Toss Up - Adrian Pearsall vs. Frank Fagan, "The Loonie"

 So this week it's a toss up and I leave it up to you to decide if the find of the week is a fantastic Adrian Pearsall barrel chair OR this 1911 edition of Selected Poems inscribed: 
"Hap" - Age 6 - Grade 4 - T'chr - Mr Crowder -
Address ggxyz Cow Alley, Fishburn
next door to Frank Fagan, the loonie. 
Both classics.

The Shoemaker

“Him that makes shoes go barefoot himself.” - Burton—Anatomy of Melancholy. Democritus to the Reader. P. 34. (Ed. 1887).

Look at these beauties. I traded for these chairs... it was a good trade.  She got four Russell Wrights and I got two Albinis. I did not know that they were Albinis at the time.  I was looking for something "fun" for my daughter's room.  I want to go back, to the day that I bought them before I discovered that they were Albinis when they were just cute and retro and perfect for her room.  I want to go back to the second that I clicked on the site where I saw another broken Albini child's chair with no upholstery sell online for more than my car is worth.  Because in the very next second,  I leapt from the computer petrified and stumbling down the hall just in time to witness my daughter poised one-legged on a leaning Albini trying to get a dress out of the closet. I reprimanded her for not innately knowing what whack switch had flipped in her mother while lovingly moving the pair to a corner of the living room where I thought I could "keep an eye" on them. I have spent the bulk of a very protective year now witnessing things like my naked one year old straddling the chairs like a water skier holding a spoonful of peanut butter in one hand and a grape filled metal Ferrari in the other while pounding them both on the fragile wicker loops on the back.  Screw it, it is time to sell -  they are going to perish in my home.  I am tired of my failed attempts at conveying to any overweight guest that the American Empire rocker is much more comfortable than the tiny wicker child's chair and could they please eat their f***ing Krispy Kremes on grown up furniture before they kill the iconic Albini.  They are a pair. They are a very rare pair.  They are a very rare pair of children's chairs. They are a very rare pair of Franco Albinis with the original sparkly atomic vinyl and they deserve better than this shoemaker.