If you read this blog regularly, you may remember that I wrote a month ago or so about the sale of a pair of 18th century cast iron armatures which at one time were part of a pair of hand wrought and cast iron fully feathered eagles. I was told they graced the roof of the Palais Royale in the 18th century-who knows if this provenance is truth or fiction. In truth, I did not care about the provenance. Though great age had reduced those birds to their bare bones, no garden sculpture known to me has ever made such a powerful and personal visual statement. Though I can see right through them, they have incredible presence. They speak much to life, age, aura, memories, gardens- and dissolution. They are history represented in a way I cannot really explain. I could have lived with them all my life. But once I decided to buy and sell garden ornament, I knew there would be times it would be hard to let go. In this instance, it knocked the wind out of me.
We finally had a call to ship. Buck would crate them for what was the last leg of their long trip from Europe. From Paris, to Brussels, to Paris, to New England, to me. I only had them for a time-they moved on just a short time ago. I know the person who bought them, loves them. That is enough. They had travel ahead of them. We wanted to be sure they would be absolutely safe and secure for that trip.
It took Buck an entire day to build the pallets and crates, and load them up for shipping.
The designer was kind enough to email me that they made the trip without a hitch, and were unloaded without incident. I did respond with a request to see them installed in the garden. This went unanswered-which I understand. Neither he nor his client has any obligation to me. I had them for what seemed like a brief moment. This someone new and unknown to me will steward them with the same care as I did-of this I am sure. No one would buy these, unless they were sure they could not live without them.