HOME by Edgar A. Guest – Reverse Painting – 1925

$169.00

The motto HOME was published by The Buzza Company, copyright 1925, an excellent year for framed mottos. The country was in full swing enjoying prosperous times. Publishing houses were reaping the benefits as well. HOME remains in its original frame. The backing paper and hanger were replaced probably in 60s. Also, a Full Swivel Ring Picture Hanger was added to the top of the frame. It is left in place because the hanger is now part of the motto’s history.

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Buzza Motto – Home by Edgar A. Guest

HOME is printed on the reverse side of the glass which is often referred to as reverse painting on glass. This is an art form consisting of applying paint to a piece of glass and then viewing the image by turning the glass over and looking through the glass at the image.

Another term used to refer to the art of cold painting and gilding on the back of glass is verre églomisé, named after the French decorator Jean-Baptiste Glomy (1711–86), who framed prints using glass that had been reverse-painted. See https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Reverse_glass_painting

The motto HOME was published by The Buzza Company, copyright 1925, an excellent year for framed mottos. The country was in full swing enjoying prosperous times. Publishing houses were reaping the benefits as well. HOME remains in its original frame. The backing paper and hanger were replaced probably in the 60s. Also, a Full Swivel Ring Picture Hanger was added to the top of the frame. It is left in place because the hanger is now part of the motto’s history.

The poem reads:
“It takes a heap o’ livin’ in a house t’ make it home,
A heap o’ sun anshadder, an‘ ye sometimes have t’ roam
Afore ye really ‘preciate the things ye lef‘ behind,
An‘ hunger fer ’em somehow, with ’em allus on yer mind.
It don’t make any differunce how rich ye get t’ be,
How much yer chairs an’ tables cost, how great yer luxury;
It ain’t home t’ ye, though it be the palace of a king,
Until somehow yer soul is sort o’ wrapped round everything.
Home ain’t a place that gold can buy or get up in a minute;
Afore it’s home there’s got t’ be a heap o’ livin’ in it;
Within the walls there’s got t’ be some babies born,
and then Right there ye’ve got t’ bring ’em up t’ women good, an‘ men;
And gradjerly as time goes on, ye find ye wouldn’t part
With anything they ever used — they’ve grown into yer heart:
The old high chairs, the playthings, too, the little shoes they wore Ye hoard;
an’ if ye could ye’d keep the thumb-marks on the door.
Ye’ve got t’ weep t’ make it home,
ye’ve got t’ sit an’ sigh An’ watch beside a loved one’s bed, an‘ know that Death is nigh;
An’ in the stillness o’ the night t’ see Death’s angel come,
An‘ close the eyes o’ her that smiled, an‘ leave her sweet voice dumb.
Fer these are scenes that grip the heart, an’when yer tears are dried,
Ye find the home is dearer than it was, an‘ sanctified;
An‘ tuggin’ at ye always are the pleasant memories
O’ her that was an’ is no more — ye can’t escape from these.
Ye’ve got t’ sing an’ dance fer years, ye’ve got t’ romp an’ play,
Anlearn t‘ love the things ye have by usin’ ’em each day;
Even the roses ’round the porch must blossom year by year
Afore they ‘come a part o’ ye, suggestin’ someone dear
Who used t’ love ’em long ago, an‘ trained ’em jes t’ run
The way they do, so’s they would get the early mornin’ sun; Y
e’ve got t’ love each brick an‘ stone from cellar up t’ dome:
It takes a heap o’ livin’ in a house t’ make it home.
by Edgar A. Guest

Dimensions: 7 3/4” x 10 3/4”

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