This is a bookcase my brother made when we were teenagers at home. He followed a plan from a DIY magazine he subscribed to, using the instructions (more or less) with a few improvisations on the way. He was always at his happiest making and doing. The bookcase ends up being an object that has outlasted him. I think its got an authentic sixties feel to it, and now it works well to store my back numbers of JECL: now ten years old. Still thinking about objects and material culture, I wanted to document this because it was a performance of something or other: and now its performing something else. It's useful. The object doesn't carry the story, or represent anything, it's just caught up in everyday events; a bit like Stan Ogden's glasses.
It's a very cool bookcase. I like having stuff that meant something to someone else. I had my Dad's first bookcase (from when he was a boy) in my house for ages. I just used it for the kids' books. When I could afford a proper bookcase I gave my Dad's one back to him. And so it has a bit extra on its story. It's all about the provenance.
Provenance? I thought that was somewhere that teachers went on holiday! Seriously though, I like your story. I suppose I'm just thinking around where those meanings reside, from a sort of socio-semiotic point of view.
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