Look at all items in vintage photos

The next time you see a faded sepia-toned photograph or portrait, stop for a moment and take a closer look.

There is a formality, even a solemnity in these formal portraits you don’t often see with modern photographs. After all, in the days before cameras were so commonplace as to be included in cell phones (or before there were any telephones at all), having one’s portrait made was an event.

I love to study the fashions on both the men and the women; the images of little boys in long curls and dress-like garments, men in starched collars and three-piece suits and women in elegant furs and sweeping skirts.

But I’m also fascinated by the objects that surround the person in the photo. The furniture, rugs and accessories in the background give you an idea of the time period in which the photograph was taken. Occasionally, the background of the photo gives a clue about the identity, or in some cases, the personality of the person in the photograph.

One of my favorite pieces is an early 20th century portrait. I bought it at a shop here in Spokane for a little more than $10.

The simple but well-made frame holds the image of a man who appears to be in his 40s. He has a neatly trimmed mustache and is sitting in a deep and luxurious leather chair looking at a book that he holds open on his lap. A heavy gold chain dangles from a buttonhole on his lapel and disappears into his left breast pocket.

Behind him, in soft focus, a large table holds books and papers and the framed portrait of a woman. The edge of the table is painted with a Roman design.

Floral drapery panels frame the windows and a silk lampshade hangs low over the table.

I love everything about this photograph, from the heavy wool of the man’s suit to the soft light – filtered through lace curtains – coming from the windows.

I wish I knew his identity. I wonder what he was reading.

What did he do for a living? What was written on the papers stacked on the large table behind him? Who is the woman in the silver frame?

You see? You don’t have to recognize the face in the picture to find a connection to the image.

When I look at his portrait I can hear the sound of the leather as the man shifts in the chair. I can imagine the birdsong outside his window and feel the texture of the curtains in my fingers. Through the photograph I am in the room with the man, in his time and place.

What I bought was a photograph. What I got was a mystery.

That’s the essence of treasure hunting.