So, i have been meaning to post this on my blog. It is a photo of a lamp I found when cleaning out my grandparents’ shed last year. She is a little beaten up, but they don’t make things like they used to. She is heavy and solid in weight, but so weightless in form. I love her.
I wish I had been able to ask my grandparents where they got it. Knowing Pop, probably out of the trash heap. I wonder, though, if my Grandmother bought her. It is hard to imagine my Grandparents, with their hardscrabble backgrounds, having beautiful and timeless things like this, but some of the things we found at their house surprised us.
So, I rewired her, and put a shade on her (wish I knew what the original shade had looked like – I am not sure this one is a good fit) and she sits on my desk, where I write sometimes, and I feel like she is urging me on, shining light down on me and reaching up to the sun, prompting me to do the same.
I wonder if she made my Grandma feel the same way. I wonder how she became relegated to the dusty, hot shed.
There is something so hopeful about her; I guess that is what I love most about her.