luflic artifacts text
my role: photography, production, layout.

I walked into the antique store and was greeted by an old man. He seemed to be hard of hearing but was quite friendly. I asked him if I could photograph some of the merchandise in his store, to which he kindly replied “of course!” It was one of many stores I had visited, but this one stood out. The outside of the store front was covered in posters about everything being for sale. The store was closing, everything had to go or was going to get discarded, I assume.

The interior of the store was covered in signs as well, sprawled across the walls and over the hoardings of paintings. They were taped on shelves, door frames, tables, busts, just about anything you could see had been marked in some way. I attached the lens to my camera, deployed my tripod, screwed my camera on and pulled the lens cap off. As I searched for my first object of interest, I took note of the general atmosphere of the store. Music was playing through a set of old speakers mounted in the corners of all the rooms, the music crackled. They were probably antique, too. The distortion of the speakers gave the dance band and classical works a haunting feel, but it was comforting in a way. It was genuine.

Photography has the power to draw our eyes to new things, to recontextualize the sights of the everyday world. To deliver to us a view that we would not have normally seen otherwise, even if it were placed directly in front of us. Photography has the power to freeze a subject at a specific place and time in its story. The world of forgotten antiques makes a perfect subject, then. They represent long forgotten stories of forgotten people, specters who once displayed these objects in their homes or used them as tools. These are objects of affect, their rust and wear reveal to us parts of their history. From glass birds to rusted bottle openers, each of these objects was created with a purpose in mind. Some are no longer suitable for their original uses, either from age or disrepair.

These objects can also reveal to us parts of our culture, what we once valued, what we once saw as acceptable. Some of these objects are strange, perhaps even offensive by modern standards. Time flows around these junk objects, eroding away their original significance and leaving behind an “antique.” Objects forgotten, taken out of their contexts and placed next to each other. Assorted by vague descriptors like size, color, time period, or perhaps not at all. This association is the reason that this work needed to be bound in a photobook; these objects are linked in many ways. They have many things in common: location, age, lack of purpose, and the fact that they were photographed by me.

Looking closely, one can see the hidden details of these objects that the eye misses, they are cropped and isolated by the lens of camera lens in order to draw out the details that make up the objects. In this way, cameras do not only record objects, but also facilitate our understanding of them. It isolates not only the objects, but the specters that once possessed them. Looking upon these objects with modern eyes through the literal and metaphorical lens of modern equipment can show use truths about those who came before us and what they valued; even these “junk” objects are intricately crafted.

Mirrors are decorated with ornate metal borders, animals are rendered in a still-life pose by expert glass workers, and expressive wood carvings paint a tale of despair. They tell the story of a society obsessed with excess, one in which craftsmanship is so common that it loses its value. These artifacts are rarely purchased once they find themselves within the walls of an antique store, for they have not moved into a store; they have been placed into a museum. They wait for us to visit and observe them, to wonder about their origins, to admire their craftsmanship, but rarely to carry home either due to their lack of use cases or their price (usually both).

These items weave a tragic narrative of purpose lost, they carry with them a melancholic aura that signifies the consequences of materialism and our fascination with age and ruin. The photo captures these emotions in a way that the human eye cannot and shows us things that we cannot see when looking at these objects behind glass or on display shelves. These items needed to be photographed in order to tell their full stories, a field trip to their current residence would not invoke the same significance or focus. Worse yet, it is a very real possibility that these objects will disappear down the river of time to their next, and perhaps final, resting places, never to be seen again. Their magic lost forever in the process. For these artefacts, each moment can be a decisive one, their last chance at true preservation. And so, they put on a beautiful, cluttered, melancholic show to the tunes emanating from a set of aged, crackling speakers playing worn vinyl records that echo throughout their space.

Thanks for reading.

— Justice / justicedsn@gmail.com