Patina

Rick and I bought a used frame for a print we were given. It’s not an antique or anything (though it bore the label “vintage” in the eBay listing–which I doubt.) We have been known to go overboard on frames–buying period antique where the original warranted it–usually buying something beat up and restoring it to its former glory. This was not the case here. The print is fun–and represents a warm and fuzzy period in Rick’s past. We wanted the frame to be just that–fun.

It is. It has, however, a chalky faux-old paint finish. Usually when faced with such an item (and I’ve dealt with several), I clean it and protect it with a clear coat of flat acrylic. It makes it easy to dust and keep clean going forward. There are decisions to make, along the way. I’m not a great believer in preserving dirt. But some will argue that dirt is a part of the patina. Sometimes, if you strip away the dirt, what’s left is a blah piece, with no character. Since I’m no fan of filth, I take that risk.

This all reminds me that everything nostalgic has its own patina, as does our personal version of history. There are, after all, folks in this country waving the Confederate flag. Done right, peeling away the layers of time forces you to address what’s underneath, warts and all. This concept applies, whether you’re dealing with an antique, with your personal memories, or the larger picture of history, generally. The best we can do is to unpack it, with an open mind. Remove the dirt that just comes with age, but leave that which is part of the original–ugly or lovely, or both. Then re-evaluate.

Relieved of its patina of grime this little frame is exactly what we were looking for. After a quick protective coat, a matt, and some glass, this frame will do the print justice. And I guess that’s the best we can do.