Grandma’s Jeans

Wrangler, Greensboro, North Carolina, United States, circa 2005, denim, length: 30”

These jeans are my genes. Like my lithe fingers and the shape of my lips, I inherited them from my maternal grandmother.

I stumbled upon my grandma’s Wranglers years ago while rummaging through a closet of old stuff. What was I looking for? An insecure teenager struggling to find what fits her in life, I pulled out these jeans and tried them on. Instantly, I loved them: broken-in yet still structured, not tight but not too baggy, a perfect medium wash, simple ornamentation. Mostly though, I loved them because when I put them on, I felt a visceral connection to my grandmother. I felt her humility in the understated details, her strength in the double stitching, her tenacity in the durability of the denim fabric, her calming presence in the blue hue.

Since the day I found them, my grandma’s jeans have become my most beloved pair of trousers. Thousands of miles have separated me from my grandmother since I was young, but when I wear her jeans, it feels like she is with me. Pulling on her jeans, I am reminded of my genes: all of those qualities that I admire about my grandmother exist somewhere within me too. – Haley G.

To learn more about Haley’s jeans and label, stay tuned for a special episode of The Museum of Where We Are podcast to debut this spring/summer!

Jhumka Earrings

Mumbai, India, circa 2015, gold, rose gold, diamonds, pearls, height: 2.7”

Have you ever felt the weight of growing up? I feel it on my ears two hours into wearing this beautiful earring, a Jhumka hanging on a big golden hoop with tiny pearls hanging at the bottom. Like growing up, the burden of the earrings goes unnoticed as I twirl around and grin, enjoying the jingling of the pearls. I chuckle at the sight of tiny rainbows formed when the sun hits the lustrous diamonds, making the earring seem ethereal. I am sure to take pictures that flaunt this earring and record a video where I bob my head to capture the essence of the Jhumka dancing in all its glory. But as time goes by, I feel my ears dropping and quivering, too feeble to continue to support the weight of their embellishments. Suddenly, even the slightest movement of the Jhumka painfully draws my attention to how the earrings restrict any vigorous movement of my neck. I do not realize the exact moment that the earrings stopped bringing me joy and caused me pain. Nor can I pinpoint the moment I stopped being a child. I know for sure, though, I am not a child anymore. – Vidhi S.

Cotton Paper Table Lamp

Papeles Artesanales Eclipse, Antigua Guatemala, Guatemala, circa 2021, cotton paper, bougainvillea flowers, wood, height: 15”

I am walking down the uneven sidewalks of Antigua Guatemala, the afternoon sunshine warm against my cheeks, the scent of fresh flowers hitting my nose as I pass a family that is creating the first flower carpet of the year in anticipation of the Easter celebrations.

When I open my eyes, I am not in Guatemala. I am sitting at my desk in my university apartment, well into the late hours of the night, staring at a blank AutoCAD document void of the design that is due in a few hours.

What hits my face is not the sun, but the mocking blue light emitted by my computer screen and the warm glow of the lamp that sits next to it, one that my mom gifted me before I left for university.

A breeze from the open window next to my desk wafts the fragrance off the dried bougainvillea flowers that are pressed into the surface of the lampshade in my direction.

I bask in the sensations provided by the lamp, a source of comfort in the absence of my hometown and my mother, who proudly awaits the PDF attachment that she will soon receive, complete with my latest design. – Sofia L.

To learn more about Sofia’s lamp and label, stay tuned for a special episode of The Museum of Where We Are podcast to debut this spring/summer!

Lucite Pen Cigarette Holder

Daytona Beach, Florida, United States, circa 1950, grit, lucite, paint, plaster, and seashells, height: 2.25”

The one thing that will always complicate my relationship with smoking is my great-grandmother’s quirky pen holder from the 1950s. She passed away from lung cancer after a lifetime of smoking. It was her greatest regret in life. I came into the world after she left, so this little plastic pen holder lives on as a conduit through which I connect with her. An intensely creative woman, she wrote beautiful letters ambidextrously and painted gorgeous landscapes; I myself love reading and drawing. As cancer slowly chipped away at her, she wrote several letters from her desk, undoubtedly brushing her fingers against this little Lucite gem when she reached for her pen. The desperate process of deeply relating to such a simple object has made it feel like an extension of my family, of myself. This plastic seascape of a pen holder is useless in a utilitarian sense: too small to hold any of my pens and just big enough to hold one guilty cigarette upright like a middle finger to her dying wishes. If not for me, it is for her that I quit smoking so often. Someday I will get it—maybe when I find a pen that fits. – Rory P.

Owala FreeSip Water Bottle

Owala, Lehi, Utah, United States, circa 2021, powder coated metal, plastic, rubber, height: 10.68”

Before the Owala FreeSip Water Bottle entered my life, was I truly aware of what it meant to be hydrated? This journey began with a simple addition to my daily routine, just carrying the bottle around, yet it led to an awakening. Before, water was an afterthought, but now it is a constant companion, urging me to sip, refill, repeat, and, most importantly, embrace a more active lifestyle. The transformation was subtle at first; I carried the bottle from home to school, then to the gym, and eventually everywhere in between. Gradually, I noticed the changes: increased energy, clearer skin, and a more consistent sense of well-being. This bottle was not just a receptacle for water; it was a reminder and advocate of the simple yet profound impact of hydration on my health. It has made me wonder: how often do we overlook simple everyday objects when trying to improve ourselves, unbeknownst of their possible profound effects? – Alexander L.

White Gold Diamond Pendant

circa 1950, white gold, diamond, metal, length: 10” (necklace)

When does an object’s life begin? I believe this pendant’s life began in 1951 when my grandfather walked into a Polish restaurant in Baltimore and saw my grandmother sitting with her date across the room. She instantly caught his attention, and even though she was with another man, he asked her to dance. They danced a traditional polka; he was so enchanted by her that, when she sat down, he realized he had forgotten to ask for her number. He gathered the courage to ask for another dance. She immediately obliged, and after the dance, since he did not have a pen or paper on him, he drove straight home to write down her information. This was the beginning of a six-decade love story that includes four children, eleven grandchildren, and three great-grandchildren. This necklace was the first piece of jewelry my grandfather gave to my grandmother. Since her passing in 2017, the necklace has found a new home with me. It is now my job to honor its memory and integrity by wearing it as a reminder of my grandmother and allowing its story to persist for generations to come. – Elizabeth B.

Jewelry Box

Mundi, United States, circa 2003, leather, velvet, and brass, height: 5”

This jewelry box that I have owned since I was a baby has been like the older sister that I never had.

It guided me as I developed my sense of style. The box’s cream velvet compartments invited me from an early age to fill them up with whatever I could find. As I matured, the box’s contents prompted me to closely reflect on the jewelry I wore, and I would remove older pieces to start anew. The box continues to encourage me to try out new things. Although my Barbie necklaces are long gone, my jewelry box provided me with the space I needed back then to explore my place in the world of jewelry.

Like an older sister, my jewelry box has been by my side when I needed it the most. The box’s small mirror helped me decide what to wear as I nervously got ready for my first middle school dance. Giving its blessing, the box bestowed upon me the pearl earrings that I wore for my high school graduation.

When my mother bought me this jewelry box, she probably viewed it as just a storage device. Without realizing it, she purchased a loyal lifelong companion. – Marcella M.

Mr. Krabs Beanie Baby

Beanie Baby, Oakbrook, Illinois, United States, circa 2012, polyester fiber, plastic, string, wire, height: 5.5”

What, besides money of course, was Mr. Krabs looking for when he presented himself to me after being lost for years? My grandmother, Rena, bought Mr. Krabs, a SpongeBob character obsessed with money, for me and my brother in 2012. Consisting of vibrant red polyester, he was soft to the touch while still being durable. However, after a year of use, he vanished, never to be seen again. Or so we thought. While he departed from our memories, he remained in our grandmother’s house. When she passed two years ago, Mr. Krabs reemerged as we looked through her possessions for keepsakes and objects to display for her memorial. To my surprise, he was no richer than before, and no dirtier. At that moment, this object that brought joy to our family reminded me that even though Rena, always the life of the party and youthful at heart, was gone, her memories and impact on our family and our feelings still remained. – Andrew L.

Baby Blanket (Gigi)

Possibly Carter’s Baby Blanket, Tallahassee, Florida, circa 2001, possibly acrylic/fleece, length: 40”

How does one know they are grown up? Would you say a grown up still has their baby blanket? Laying at 40 inches long and 25 inches wide, my baby blanket rests at the foot of my bed in my apartment. Its washed out print of animals and palm trees lightly saturates its worn yet fuzzy surface. My blanket, Gigi, is more than just a piece of cloth. She is something greater: a best friend. Gigi is just what a friend should be: reliable and accepting. With the presence of Gigi, one may think I am not the epitome of a grown up, and maybe they are right. However, I feel like some version of one. Why does one have to sacrifice childhood wonder for the acknowledgment of growing up? As a child my imagination ran free. One day I was a dinosaur from a different planet who went to the beach on the weekends, the next a fairy who was also a famous chef. Why should I throw that magic away? I do not think that child will ever leave me, and the presence of Gigi reminds me of that little girl that saw her world in daydreams. – Charli Y.

Whopper Plopper Topwater Fishing Lure

River2Sea, Vacaville, California, United States, circa 2017, plastic, stainless steel, length: 3.5’’

I have probably tied this Whopper Plopper onto the end of my line at least 100 times. The thought of tying it on always gives me hope that I might catch my biggest bass of the year. Seeing a large fish dive out of the river and bite my lure as it swims along the surface is something I dream of all winter, and only occasionally get to enjoy during the summer. This lure has scratches, bends, and rust, and the paint is clearly chipping from the cheap plastic. The fish do not care about these flaws, so neither do I. Because I have had this specific Whopper Plopper for so long, I feel like it has a lucky bass catching charm that a brand-new shiny Whopper Plopper cannot have. I probably think this because I am a fisherman, and that means I am superstitious. I will say that I certainly have not caught a fish every time I have thrown this lure for a cast. However, every time I have used this lure, I was at least in nature, spending time with my father, or having a pleasant day forgetting my woes with my friends. – Devin S.

Leaf-Shaped Incense Burner

circa 2022, metal, length: 10”

I tend to struggle with my mental health in the winter. Those long, dark, cold days make it difficult to me to leave my apartment. However, I understand the importance of allowing myself to see the sky and feel fresh air. So, for those more difficult days, I fashioned myself a reminder. This incense burner is the centerpiece of what I affectionately call my “sun shrine,” a holy monument dedicated to warmth, vitamin D, and staving of seasonal depression. It is surrounded by other sun-themed tchotchkes, all on top of a borrowed cigar box where the actual incense is stored. The metal that makes up the burner’s form is cold and unyielding, yet its leaf design reminds me that I too need sunlight to thrive. And should I find myself without it on any cold and dreary night, I can light a stick and watch as the red-hot embers slowly seep down its length, the smoke wafting up in graceful ribbons. In these moments I am almost as cozy in my apartment as I would be by a crackling fireplace back home. – Sydney H.

Leather Briefcase

Bucharest, Romania, early twentieth century, leather, cloth, bronze, width: 24”

Rain, vodka, coffee, dirt, beer, piss—all elements stained forever into the leather skin of this briefcase. A protective case guards its contents from even the most unforgiving conditions. Rain, vodka, coffee, dirt, beer, piss—all elements of which a punk rock basement venue might reek. The lead singer takes a shot of vodka. The exhausted driver sips a coffee. The drummer finds a bush for a piss. The bassist rests on the dirty basement floor. They all run out into the rain to catch a cab home from a late show. The case is there through it all, the presence of the merchandise within makes or breaks the night. The financial value of the case’s contents will keep the band afloat until the next rainy night trekking through Philadelphia’s urban jungle. Just as the band would never leave a member of their own behind, they will never leave behind this case. No one knows what element left its mark last, and no one knows which element will make its mark next. But much like the memories the band has made together, the marks will never fade. – Nicolas T.

Hillel Winterfest Metal Mug

2021, metal, height: 5.5”

For all intents and purposes, a mug is meant to be drunk from. This mug is not for a human’s lips. You can see it in the dust gathered at its bottom, yet, on closer inspection, rust has stained its handle.

When held in one’s hand, the cold disuse seeps into your fingers like rain that should be snow, a stark contrast to its cousins in my cupboard who radiate warmth.

Yet, peer into its soul: find at the bottom a seabed of purple, blue, and pink wax. They melt together like a galaxy, with some of the original white of the mug’s bottom peeking through like stars. Light reflects off the wax projecting lighter variants of the colors onto the inner walls of the mug.

It never touched lips, but it did touch my heart. It was a convoy for my creativity, parked in my shower for almost two years, a home for crayons that let me litter my sterile shower walls.

For all intents and purposes, this mug has created its own purpose. – E. B.

Chick-fil-A Plush Cow

Chick-fil-A, Atlanta, Georgia, United States, circa 2020, polyester, felt, height: 8”

Have you ever felt disconnected from your family members after the death of a loved one? After my grandma’s passing, it seemed like there was a wall between my grandpa and me. It was almost like my grandma was the glue holding our family together. Then my grandpa started working at Chick-fil-A and I started collecting Chick-fil-A memorabilia. My collection started with this stuffed cow from him. This piece is my favorite out of my whole collection. Intricate two-dimension details make it look three-dimensional. It is not perfect: a loose pink string hangs from its nostrils. Collecting Chick-fil-A memorabilia has created an olive branch between us, though. My grandpa has helped me grow my collection to include all sorts of things, from a window sign to a puzzle and many stuffed cows. I like to think that he feels as much joy in obtaining the different objects as I do in collecting them. – Alexis M.

Dragon Necklace

Doylestown, Pennsylvania, United States, circa 2016, metal, length: 10.2”

The necklace is a reminder of the time my family would spend together. Every year we would attend an arts festival, and it was at one such festival that I found it. Sitting in the hot sun, amongst the bustling crowds and chittering conversation, it glittered from inside its booth. The vendor carried many beautiful pieces of metalwork, ranging from statues to charms and trinkets. Most people passed by, giving the stall but a passing glance. It just so happened that this little trinket, small as a quarter, caught my attention so dearly. It has become a cherished memento that has travelled with me throughout the years. Time may pass, but I inevitably come back to it. To me it is a memory, a friend, and a reminder of a time that I hold dear. – Sydney K.

Amazon Kindle Keyboard

Amazon, Seattle, Washington, United States, July 2010, plastic, metal, glass, height: 7.5”

A routine eBay delivery gifts a gray rectangle that mirrors my most prized childhood possession. The object it reflects is my Amazon Kindle, a means of literary exploration for younger me, and my ticket to living endless stories and adventures. With each page turned, the device would disappear further, allowing this eager child to perceive nothing but the gripping details of a narrative. Even with its limited storage, it seemed not all the books in existence could fill the walls of the valley I found myself falling deeper into with every word. I clung desperately to my small rectangular parachute, falling further and faster, refusing to ever pull the string. I got lost in the unlit screen until eventually, the rip cord was violently yanked for me. My Kindle was shattered on a family trip, and this version I hold today is a mere sibling of what once captured my every waking moment. I purchased it to reinspire my literary excitement, but ironically, with the physical medium returned, the software is now obsolete. It sits as a reminder of the endless worlds available on the page, and as an unredeemed ticket for adventure that I hope soon to cash in. – Jameson N.

Wooden Owl Figurine

wood, acrylic paint, height: 5.25”

Is it possible to make an object a memorial years after a loved one has passed? My mom surprised me one evening by gifting me a small wooden owl figurine with simplistic streaks of paint where it would warrant detail. Before I even had the chance to lay eyes on it, she told me it reminded her of me.

Her assumingly odd line of thought was all thanks to my Pop-Pop who lost his life to addiction when I was three years old. Before his passing, he gave me the nickname, “Hoot Owl”; my cooing resembled an owl’s hoot. This nickname soon turned into my legacy, held in loving memory of my grandfather. On my birthdays thereafter, I would receive gifts containing an owl in some way from my family.

This gift was different, however, as it came into my life without warning. The surprise of the figurine is what made it so meaningful to me, as it was carefully thought of without the external pressures that a birthday would cause. In this way, it made me feel closer to my Pop-Pop, like he wanted my mom to choose that gift for his Hoot Owl. – Liv C.

Slip On Shoes

Adidas, 2020, canvas, rubber, length: 11”

You know you love something or someone when you begin to look for their positive qualities in alternatives. My pair of shoes is not the prettiest, or the most expensive, but there is a reason they have survived the trash bin for years. The extremely weathered state displays the extent of wear that these shoes have endured in their days. Complete with tears in the siding and toe caps caked in mud, these shoes may have experienced more than any single pair of shoes should. Most people would have thrown them out years ago when the original white canvas started to initially grey or when the first indication of a tear began to reveal itself. I continue to pay these sneakers the respect and dedication that they have given me. Even if I wanted to toss them, I could not because I continue to look for them in other shoes. Wearing a shoe that has not formed to perfectly accommodate every intricacy of my foot feels almost as uncomfortable as replacing my mother with somebody else. It is just not possible to abandon something that you love so much because it loves you right back. – Will S.

Canga de Praia

circa 2010s, likely viscose, length: 63”

The canga is a unique cultural garment of Brasil, serving both as a beach cover-up and towel for the women who don its cooling embrace. Mine holds memories of sand under the blazing southern sun, lightly splashed by crashing waves on the beaches of Rio de Janeiro. Within the weave of its fraying pattern, I see the rolling mountains and vibrantly colored homes built upon them. I still smell coconuts and salt water, and hear the carioca accent my whole family speaks with. Looking at it reminds me of home and an incurable saudade which I carry with me every time I wear it.

Yet, I am an imposter.

It never fits or looks quite right, tightly contouring my body as if it were a sharp blade burning to reveal what lies beneath my skin. I can feel the Redeemer’s disapproving gaze as he looks down upon me in my mockery of his father’s creation. He questions my place in the pattern or cloth of my culture. The imperfect thread of color that escaped the pattern, barely unnoticed, dares to show the world I am an imposter of my own reflection, existing in between what is and what is not. – Cairo F.

Vietnamese Cup Coaster

Dinh Thi Nguyen, Binh Dinh, Vietnam, 1980s, mother-of-pearl, bamboo, rattan, width: 4”

This coaster, passed down from my grandmother's hands to mine, is more than a practical item; it embodies a legacy of love, craftsmanship, and cultural heritage that spans generations. As it rests on my table, each delicate shell and intricate pattern tells a story of my hometown’s bustling markets and warm embrace in Binh Dinh. The formal busyness in their design evokes the vibrant energy of the markets, with each shell and pattern contributing to the lively tapestry of my memories.

Growing up with a minimalist mindset and experiencing the transient nature of college life, I never imagined forming attachments to material objects. Yet, this coaster defies my expectations, drawing me in with its rich history and vibrant symbolism. Just as the intricate inlay work mirrors the kaleidoscope of life in Vietnam, this coaster reflects my journey of growth and resilience, serving as a beacon of hope.

With each cup placed upon its surface, I am reminded of the enduring legacy of tradition and the importance of cherishing connections across generations. In a world marked by constant change and uncertainty, this coaster is a tangible link to my past, grounding me in the values and memories that shape my identity. – Rosie N.

Bach’s Rescue Pastilles Tin

Bach Flower Remedies Ltd., Switzerland (distributed by Nelson Bach USA Ltd), circa 2020, tin, enamel, diameter: 3”

This tin refuses an immediate reveal of what it holds. Its lid slides along the base’s ridges, but it does not wind open along a threaded lip. I often hand the tin to my friends and watch them test its edges to figure it out. You must push down the center of the tin’s lid to open it. The lid pops loudly, pushing out the edges clasping its base. While this spectacle entices wonder, there is nothing grand inside. My tin has been empty of pastilles for a long while. My main use of it these days is as a portable ash tray. Its value for me lies in how it pushes open the possibilities of the world. Before encountering this tin, I had no familiarity with such an opening mechanism, and it continues to be the only example of it that I have encountered. This tin’s mechanism fascinates me as it taught me a new way for a lid to be a lid. Even closing it, which releases a loud ‘tuk’ sound, provides a moment of novelty and levity. – Hanna P.

Jewelry and Music Box

Taiwan, circa 1990, wood, metal, felt, height: 7”

Can the imperfections of an item outshine its beauty?

Over the summer, I found this jewelry box at a flea market. Its charming metal handles and dark wood finish attracted me, but upon a closer look, I noticed a metal crank on the back. When turned, it started singing me a sweet song. I could not pass up such a unique box, so I purchased it for five dollars.

When I got home, I cleaned my new box. Only then did I discover the barely visible black marker streaks along the top. I was upset. Who could deface such a pretty wood finish? I wished that I saw the imperfections at the flea market. I thought that if I had done so, I might not have bought the box.

Maybe the marker on the top was the reason it was discarded. Maybe its previous owner thought that no one would want a jewelry box that was not in pristine condition.

I now love and appreciate my jewelry box how it is. The box spoke to me when I found it, and I am glad I did not ignore its call because of some small imperfections. – Annaliese H.

Meditation Mug

Monks of the Taize Community, Taize, France, circa 2018, glazed clay, height: 4.5”

I was given this mug in the summer of 2018 on my first solo trip outside America, in a small village in the mountains of southern France called Taize. The man who gave it to me took me in and welcomed me when I was alone, when I was petrified about being out on my own for the first time. Through meditation, he helped me chisel away that fear and discover peace. This mug reminds me of that kindness he showed me. It also reminds me of myself. It reminds me of the conflicting innocence and maturity that came with exploring the world alone when I was only sixteen. My mug reminds me of the tranquility that I experienced meditating in the French countryside. But it also reminds me that, in a way, I am mourning that tranquility. That sense of complete serenity may not be a feeling that an adult can entirely re-capture; worldly responsibilities always seem to get in the way. This humble ceramic is a portal back to Taize, allowing me to step through and once again feel the gentle breeze and warm sunshine there, in the hills of France, in days long past. – Danny V.

GameCube Controller

Nintendo, Kyoto, Japan, 2001, plastic, width: 6.69”

Holding it now, I am reminded of the challenges faced and the victories savored. My Nintendo GameCube Controller has been an enduring partner, bridging the worlds of childhood wonder and adult complexity. As a child, it was my conduit to fantastical realms conjured up by imagination and pixels. Super Mario Sunshine and Super Smash Bros. Melee were more than games; they were vibrant, colorful worlds with immersive challenges and characters that felt like old friends. The tactile feedback from the buttons and the precision of the joystick translated thought into action seamlessly. As I grew older, this controller transformed alongside me. The buttons and joystick became worn, the result of countless battles fought and hours invested crafting strategies. Each imperfection evidences a chapter in my tale of perseverance and play. Its design is more than functional; it is an extension of my hands. This controller connected me not just to games, but to friends who shared this passion, making every encounter a mix of nostalgia and new discovery. It represents more than just technological innovation; it is a symbol of my growth, a bridge between the person I was and who I have become. – Jose M.

St. Christopher Necklace

Italy, circa 1900, white gold, length: 13”

“It will protect you like it did with me,” my father said as he passed this necklace to me a few days before I left for college. It consists of a chain made up of many small rings joined together in a double helix shape and, at the bottom, the star of the show, a pendant showing St. Christopher, the patron saint of travel. Being in an unfamiliar city for the first time was nerve wracking but knowing that I had my necklace with me, an object that once belonged to my father, and before him, my grandfather, made the experience a little bit easier. Hearing of him mostly through stories from my father, I knew my grandfather was a proud New York City police officer for years. Knowing this necklace protected him all that time gave me confidence it could do the same for me. Although it may look like a simple silver necklace, this object carries fond memories of my late grandfather and constantly reminds me that, although I may not be with my family, I am eternally connected to them. – Gavin C.

Tommy Hilfiger Sports Bag

Tommy Hilfiger, circa 2010, polyester, rubber, width: 4.75”

This has no name, no purpose, and an oscillating identity. It is in a perpetual state of choosing its major. I found it when I was twelve, rummaging through my mother’s bathroom drawers for something empty and begging to be stolen—toothpaste, floss, or an object of equal importance. For five years, it served as my bathroom bag full of unused contact lenses and buttons, and it served another three as a pencil bag caked in lead and dust from the inside out. Now, it sits on my apartment desk bulging with many sets of Dungeons & Dragons dice. It doubles as a prop for my USB camera that replaces the built-in webcam my laptop lacks. This bag with no name lacks commitment or clarity, but lounges happily in my room knowing that if it were truly worthless, it would have exited the lives of its keepers long, long ago. Inevitably, the bag will switch occupations once more: there are too many dice inside of it, and those dice need a new home. The dice bag which used to be a pencil bag which used to be a bathroom bag will be a brand-new bag. – Cameron C.

Copper Silver Coin Set

United States Mint, United States, 1972 and 2017, nickel, copper, diameter: 1.5”

The deeper meaning behind these coins lies in their representation of my time as a twenty-two-year-old magician. The copper silver coin transposition—visual and impossible—is a true classic of coin magic. If I could master it, I could finally become a coin magician.

Upon receiving the coins, I noticed the stark contrast between the metals. These were not quarters. These were large, solid coins. I knew these coins would be hard to conceal, as I had only worked with half dollars prior. Yet, I was excited by the challenge.

Practice, perform, practice, perform—frustration turned into elation. An audience of three people became an audience of thirty and my confidence suddenly skyrocketed. I could finally perform coin magic to a large audience.

A couple months ago, I looked at the coins. I saw a younger magician proficient in cards yet aspiring for more. Today, I see the endless possibilities of creativity.

Someday, I will remember all the amazing performances I had with the coins and the joy of becoming a better magician. But today, I must practice. – Daniel B.

Gold Tiffany & Co “Dog Tag” Necklace

Tiffany & Company, United States, 2020, gold, height: 1” (pendant)

Jewelry is a core way many choose to express themselves. Yet, there are times when it can make you feel like you are trying to be someone you are not. Seeing myself in the mirror, a dainty gold necklace adorning my neck, felt wrong. But was it the necklace, or was it me?

A gift from my mother, this necklace is sentimental. She selected it for me as a sixteenth birthday present. At the time, I loved it. It symbolized the mature, put-together person I wanted to be. How could I just grow out of it? I asked myself this while trying to find ways to make it work, to make it match the person I felt I was inside. I battled to pair it with silver chains, stacked it with my favorite necklaces, and even altered its linkage, yet these attempts were in vain. The only proof: the battle scars worn into the soft gold. Now, it just sits on my vanity, a gentle presence. I hope that one day the person I wanted to be four years ago will come to be, and I will feel right wearing it again. – Nikita P.

To learn more about Nikita’s necklace and label, stay tuned for a special episode of The Museum of Where We Are podcast to debut this spring/summer!

Rice Paper Floor Lamp

HAY, Denmark, circa 2023, rice paper, bamboo, aluminum, height: 22.12”

The bamboo skeleton gently stretches the rice paper and is perched upon aluminum legs, which provide a secure structure for the expanding material. This embodies the environment I sought to foster in my new home. The move from New York to Philadelphia was a conscious decision to reshape my environment, to create a space where I could stretch and grow into myself. This lamp entered my life during this time of transition. I had just signed the lease for my new apartment. I was coping with a sense of loss, deep loneliness, and sorrow. I was completely in the dark with my hardships. This simple lamp illuminated my new space, an environment where I would be fiercely intentional about cultivating safety and peace. As the world darkens outside, my silent companion emits a warm glow. It is both nurturing and functional, and above all, honest in its mission. – Jordan R.

Gromit Mug

Half Moon Bay, Stephens Way, Warminster, United Kingdom (made in China), circa 2020, ceramic, height: 4.25”

Two years ago, this mug fell off my desk and, when it hit the ground, the handle shattered. When it broke, it felt as if a piece of my soul had gone with it. I initially bought this mug because it was an internet trend, making the rounds on social media as an object of desire, or a “meme.” For a moment, the Gromit mug became a symbol for being “in on the joke,” a badge of honor to indicate to everyone else that you were “hip.” Due to the fast-moving culture on the internet, most people are no longer interested in the mug, but for me, it has transcended being a temporary gag and has become a cherished symbol of my journey throughout early adulthood. It represents a time when I was concerned with trying to be someone else to “fit in.” Like the Gromit mug, I may not be perfect, I may even be a little broken, but that is okay. I have become much more comfortable in my own skin, and while Gromit himself was not what led me to this growth, he was there with me through it all, dutifully holding my pens and pencils. – Cody H.

Square Wooden Box

circa 2016, wood, metal, height: 2.5”

Can everyday objects be heroes? I never would have guessed that I would see this square wooden box as one, but it has the battle scars to prove that it is.

The imperfections of an object can tell many different stories. While this box has obvious gashes, the wound that holds the most significance to me is one dent on the inside of its brim. It was from enduring a hit from one of the corners of my stone d20 while my party and I were fighting the main villain of our Dungeons & Dragons campaign. We were on our last legs, but so was he. It was my turn, and I needed this roll to count. My Game Master had a house rule where if you have a dice box and your roll lands outside of it, the roll does not count. I made my roll and momentarily dreaded seeing it hit the brim of my box, but thankfully, it caught the die and helped us kill the great evil. 

Thanks to this square wooden box, our party came out of the battle victorious. Because of this heroic act, I would say that yes, everyday objects can be heroes. – Sophie Y.

Uzbek Tea Set

Artistic Ceramics of Uzbekistan, Yusui, Uzbekistan, circa 1978, porcelain, gold, cup height: 3.2,” teapot height: 9”

This eye-catching tea set represents how hard working and tenacious my family is, and I aspire to be just like them. It has been alongside my family through every hardship and success, providing a warm drink for comfort. My family grew up in Uzbekistan and did not have the same luxuries they have now. They had to work harder than everybody else to survive. Even though they did not have much, they had this handmade tea set. After every hard workday, every stressful day, my family would come home to a warm cup of tea. I listened to them talk and laugh together. Even now, having tea together has remained a constant in our lives that brings us together. Once opportunity struck, my family moved to America and took our tea set with us. Eventually, my family rose to the top, and continued using this set. It not only reminds me of my family but also my culture. I was young when we moved, so I did not get to fully connect to my culture. Even though I do not remember my time in Uzbekistan, I still feel connected to my culture and family whenever I have a cup of tea. – Yasmina S.

Gold Watch

Citizen, circa 2018, gold, silver, length: 6.5”

Have I changed since high school? My best friend at the time and I bought matching watches for ourselves to commemorate graduating from high school. This watch is very much a symbol of my past. It is rarely on my wrist nowadays, no longer matches my personality, and I no longer talk to the owner of the watches’ twin. The flashy gold contrasted by silver with small diamonds on the face instantly jumps out at the viewer. The gold surrounds the black face, connected to a silver band with gold down the middle. The watch and I are not at all similar. I try to blend in and not cause attention to myself, but this is not the story my watch tells. The gold watch screams “look at me!” I am not sure what caused me to buy the watch in the first place. Maybe I wanted someone to notice me. Maybe I wanted to pretend I was something I was not. I feel pity for the watch because it should have a better owner, someone that would proudly display its beauty on their wrist. Someone with the same personality as the watch should have it, not me. – Jack P.

Sari Quilt

Tara R., Mysore, India, 2005, silk, cotton, nylon, length: 72”

Why do I hold on to this quilt?

Across cities, seas, and climates, it reminds me of a peculiar dichotomy, of steely resilience and benevolent warmth both layered into one.

On an unbearably hot night, about fifteen summers ago, my mother handed me a quilt after much digging around. The bold patterns and the impossibly soft sheen of my grandmother’s saris that make up this eccentric piece were a delightful break from the minimalist aesthetic of my possessions.

An obvious reason I held on to it is that it reminds me of home. But my attachment to it has another facet, this curious sense of pride. I picture my great-aunt, this solemn woman with razor sharp focus, as she crafts this piece. It is a tangible connection to my grandmother; she wore these saris in the prime of her life when my own mother was just a kid. It reminds me of her quiet strength and tireless spirit in raising and nurturing a family of six in all varieties of calamitous circumstances. It reminds me of the long line of outrageously strong women in my family whose shoulders I stand on. – Nihitha S.

To learn more about Nihitha’s sari quilt and label, stay tuned for a special episode of The Museum of Where We Are podcast to debut this spring/summer!

Rainbow Mug

FTD Florists, 1984, ceramic, height: 3.75”

Years ago, I spotted this mug upon its proud post, tucked alongside the rows of left-behind ceramics at a local thrift store. It was love at first sight. My mother made a comment at its design affectionately, as if to point out the similarities between it and myself.

I already had plenty of mugs, but this one? I would be lying if I said I bought it for any reason besides being gay.

The rainbow emblazoned upon it struck a chord of kinship: something bold, conspicuous, and queer among the arrays of normal and safe patterns, as was I. There is a bond between queerness in all its forms, between man and man, between man and mug. It cannot deny what it is, just as I cannot.

The mug, however, is easy to care for, and easy to please. When chosen out of the colorful, queer assortment of cups I own, it is actualized in this simplest of acts. I can only hope to share such simple, marvelous joy.

When you hold it, cupped in your hands, heat wafting through the morning air, it feels like it was meant to be there. – Quinn A.

Hive Worm Plush

Bungie, Numskull Designs, 2022, fabric, length: 13”

Everyone has things they fear and, typically, a way to cope with said fear. This plush, for me, is one such way of coping. The Hive Worm Plush is a recreation of a character from the game Destiny. These creatures make their hosts into eldritch monsters that skitter about in the Dark and slaughter entire worlds, traumatizing what little may survive. These worms are the harbingers behind the biggest threat to the Milky Way. The plush’s morbid, grub-like appearance both adheres to this motif of death and consumption and provides a tactile experience akin to that of a football. A trinity of neon-green, glow-in-the-dark eyes adorn its stubby, mossy head. Burnt and rotten brown fuzz constitutes the three pairs of spikes along its spine, its belly and the little legs attached, and the pronged tail. Those small defenses are the only protection for these pitiful creatures when separated from their host. For they are, in the end, only cowards that hide in the Darkness from the Light. – Connor R.

Pewter Hand Engraved St. Christopher Necklace

Hamilton Jewelers, Hamilton, New Jersey, United States, 1997, pewter, length: 18”

He is a constant companion in my travels, a protective shield when exploring the unknown. This handmade pewter jewelry, passed down by my late great-grandfather, found its place not only around my neck but in the very fabric of my adventures. Engraved by hand, Saint Christopher watches over me, a patron for travelers, a guardian through my journeys. He primarily shines in my room, though his impact and presence are felt far beyond that space.

The narrative of this piece intertwines with personal adventures and milestones; it ventured with me beyond borders, to the Dominican Republic, a place then new to me. He helped guide me back to my hotel when I got lost outside our resort. Dangling around my neck, he was not an accessory; he was my courage, helping me fight against the apprehension of new challenges.

He provides me with fashion, as this necklace is a statement, a complement to the outward portrayal of my identity. Outside of fashion and beyond travel, this St. Christopher pendant stands as a testament to heritage, protection, and a trophy that fills me with confidence, wherever I may venture. – Patrick C.

Floral Plastic Bowl

Vinh Co Plastic. Inc, Tan An City, Long An, Vietnam, circa 2022, plastic, height: 3.5”

I carried this big bowl from Vietnam, hoping it would bring home a piece of my motherland. But it comes with a transaction as well. It is designed for family meals, hinting at actions and duties I yearn to fulfill.

“Fill me up,” its voluminous form yells at me, “with enough food for your entire family!” I want to fill the bowl, "Up to that blue line!” But I am the only one who finishes the food and ends up overeating every day. The bowl’s weight grows as food is added, demanding care as I carry it. The flaring mouth reminds me to hold it with two hands and bow down while putting it on my table, much as my parents in Vietnam taught me to give and take things with both hands to show respect. However, when dining here in the United States, alone, after stooping down to settle the bowl and admiring its flowers, I look up and find only the empty side of the table. 

The bowl dictates a transaction I cannot complete. However, I embrace this failure as the bowl treasures a piece of my Vietnam, marking my journey to this new land. – Tin T.

Photograph

August 8th, 2019, Instax Fujifilm, height: 3.4”

I have pinned or taped this photograph to the bedroom wall of every apartment I have lived in since it was taken. Every time it catches my eye, I am pulled into the gravity of this moment, fused to the film and the plastic encasing it.

One month into backpacking through Europe at 17, my best friend and I threw down our bags, tired, having spent the night wandering around a city we did not know. We savored some chips and a handful of landjäger, a Southern German sausage. She opened the curtains behind the bed expecting to reveal sunlight but just found more grey wall. We laughed as she called her mother, letting her know we arrived safe. I picked up the Instax camera and listened for the whirr of the flash charging up before I pressed the photo button. I stared down at the developing photo, pretending to not blow air on it to hastily speed up its reveal. I watched as the black film grew spots, and the spots took shape. I remember thinking this was the kind of photograph you show your kids.

Slightly sun-bleached now, it shares a memory I hope will never disappear.  – Sophia P.

Silver Cuban Link Curb Chain

Miabella, Italy, circa 2018, solid 925 sterling silver, length: 20”

My girlfriend gave me this necklace for our one-year anniversary. We had just moved to a new state to attend college. The chain served as a reminder that I had people to count on. Over the years, the pristine silver chain has endured injuries, broken links, and regular wear during my own daily toils. Despite this, the necklace shines just as brightly as the first day I received it. It is the only necklace I have ever owned, and I have worn it every day since I got it. To me, the necklace is a source of solace that I can carry around with me. Whenever there are moments of doubt, feeling the small links of sterling silver on my fingers strengthens me with the connections I have with my loved ones and fills me with thoughts of home. Although it is made of cheap material, this necklace feels like a magical heirloom worth a thousand jewels. – Parker S.

D&D 5th Edition Player’s Handbook

Wizards of the Coast, Seattle, Washington, United States, circa 2014, paper, cardstock, ink, height: 11”

“An unnecessary necessity” are the first words that pop into my head when I think about this book. The turbulent life of a college student, constantly moving and changing as you learn how to be an adult, makes it difficult to keep frivolous things with you. And what could be more frivolous than a large, heavy book that is available online? Yet the pristine digital copy does not have the wear I cherish. This wear takes me back to some of my fondest memories sitting around the table with friends playing a game that has inspired my path in life. It recalls years of shoving the book into my backpack, the corners getting beat up week after week, and frantically flipping through pages looking for a specific line. The stories conjured by the wear and tear of this copy are mine and mine alone, a grounding force as the whirlwind of life churns and grows. I cannot imagine leaving the memories locked in this book behind, no matter how annoying it can be to pack. This book will always be a necessity to have in my home, no matter how unnecessary it might seem. – Zac M.

Decorative Vase

Thailand, 2020, pottery, height: 12”

Writing this label helped me realize that this vase is more than just a decorative piece sitting in my college bedroom. Five years ago, I was just an insecure sixteen-year-old girl looking for my first job. I landed at the Marshalls in my town. It never crossed my mind that this place would change me. I started there as the quiet girl barely noticed. Through my high school years, I grew as a person not only from working in retail, but because of the people I worked with. I formed lifelong connections with my coworkers, whether they were my age, twenty years older, or my boss. They watched me grow from a timid teenager to the ambitious, confident, and driven woman I am today. I debated buying this vase every shift for weeks leading up to when I left for college freshman year. I thought it was another one of my impulse buys, but now I realize that it is a reminder of my coworkers back home who are there to encourage me through life's journeys. – Lydia J.

To learn more about Lydia’s vase and label, stay tuned for a special episode of The Museum of Where We Are podcast to debut this spring/summer!

Blue Urn Necklace

circa 2023, string, metal, glass, ashes, length: 18”

Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. This is my first year without you, the first year you could rest. This first year sucks. I should not have to remember the last time I heard your laugh, asked you for advice, shook your hand. If I knew that goodbye was goodbye, I would not have left. What if I stayed a few more hours, a few more minutes, just a second longer? Could it have changed the outcome of that day? Or would I have seen it all play out? I already did. The day of my best friend’s uncle passing I dreamt of yours. I felt it. I was there. I heard your last breath, I felt your pain, and then it was gone. I am stuck with your ashes. I may not understand why you had to go, or where you went, but I am left with enough of your memory and your joy within these small particles of dust that hang from my neck. I know I will see you soon, and will no longer carry that weight anymore. – Kolton J.

Olympus Infinity Stylus

Maitani Yoshihisa (designer), Olympus Cameras, Japan, 1991-2004, plastic, metal, glass, height: 4.7”

A camera gives the holder the means to document the world and capture life through their lens. With this camera, I document the world and capture life, just as Harold E. Gruen did. I found this Olympus Infinity Stylus at a thrift store in California a couple years ago. From a name tag stuck to the back, I was able to learn about the man who wielded the camera before me. Harold earned his Master of Science in Electrical Engineering in 1959 and worked as an electronics manufacturer all over the United States before landing in Santa Barbara in 1966, where he passed in 2019. When taking pictures with the camera, I like to think about what he would have shot. I wonder what the pictures he shot look like and where they are now. Learning about the previous owner of the camera gave me another reason to shoot with it. I am motivated to document with this camera not only because I like to take pictures, but because I believe that Harold would want me to continue to capture life with our Stylus. – Kai Z.

Philadelphia Flyers Gritty Mascot Plush

Squishable, New York, United States, circa 2019, polyester fiber, height: 10”

“He’ll reach into the depths of your soul, better not look too long,” I facetiously exclaim when guests ask about the rotund, mischievous creature perched precariously by my entryway. I used to hate this plush of Gritty (the mascot of the Philadelphia Flyers), describing him disparagingly as “the sun logo from CBS Morning News combined with a three-year-old’s middling attempt to draw a lion.” I eventually warmed to him though, seeing as my old roommates cherished the little guy. In joking reverence, they constructed shrines to him in our dorm complete with absurd Gritty tribute paintings, pinup drawings, candles, and poetry. Friends, acquaintances, and strangers all joined in, planting pictures of Gritty in obscure locations around campus, and engulfing entire walls in constellations of memes. Now, years later, he sits alone in my apartment. Matted tufts of orange fur keep him from sitting upright. He desperately attempts to roll back to when he was surrounded by the soft laughter of friends. For as much as he brings me joy, my adoration is cut by a sharp sorrow as I reminisce about these past friendships. I should have followed my own advice: best not to look at him for too long. – Emma M.

To learn more about Emma’s Gritty plush and label, stay tuned for a special episode of The Museum of Where We Are podcast to debut this spring/summer!