Thrift Store Art
I wrestled with what to call this project, what the theme might be. On the surface the photographs are small art installations created or found in thrift shops. I nearly abandoned the work several times fearing that this was simply a collection of pretty pictures with nothing much to say. But I changed my mind based on the sincere encouragement of a fellow thrift store shopper.
While searching for inspiration in a Catholic church thrift shop near my home, I struck up a conversation with a gentleman who was helping a person with a disability look for new shoes. The three of us chatted amicably and it was fun to search for the perfect pair of shoes. As we parted ways, the gentleman asked, “With that accent, I have to ask, where are you from?” This is not the first time I have been asked this question. Even though I am from near here (only about an hour away), I have a sort of country accent that is unique to my hometown and my family of origin. I laughed and offered this simple explanation, “I’m from here, but just down the road in the Northern Neck, from Colonial Beach.” The gentleman smiled and said the sweetest thing, “Well, it’s refreshing the way you speak.” In that moment, I felt down in my bones the deep joy that comes with being yourself.
In many ways, walking through a thrift store is like strolling through a museum. We stop and study things that catch our eye and draw us in. In this respect, this project is not very different from any of my work because it is about noticing and appreciating the deep meaning of ordinary things. It isn’t about creating pretty pictures. It’s about seeing the beauty that has always been there.
At age 64, I finally feel justified in making the kinds of photographs that I make. And committed to the work. Most of these images were taken with my iPhone camera. It was the best tool for this kind of work—for taking pictures quickly, without a fuss, without drawing attention to myself, without invading anyone’s privacy. I’m happy to work with whatever tool that makes sense, whatever is available. It’s the seeing that matters, not the kind of camera I use.
Now more than ever, I practice creativity for its own sake. I don’t have to make art during stolen hours. I don’t have to make art that pays. I take what I have to create what I need. I make with a spirit of play. I have a lot of gratitude and compassion.
Thrift store art is still art.
It seems the woman I've turned out to be
Is not the heroine of some grand story.
But I have learned to find the poetry
In what my hands can touch, my eyes can see.
The pleasures of an ordinary life.
—The Pleasures of Ordinary Life by Judith Viorst
To view the book of this project, please click here.
