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Hendersonville quilt sightings Julia Altshuler 08-30-2008
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Posted by Julia Altshuler on August 30, 2008, 6:40 pm


Jim and I are back from 10 days in Hendersonville where we met my
parents for a family vacation. My parents have no interest in
traditionally feminine activities. They actively don't know how to
cook, go out a lot, or get others to cook for them. My mother treats a
knowledge or interest in all things sewing as some arcane and useless
talent, the way some people have perfect pitch or can intuit 12 digit
prime numbers. My father has memories of his mother supporting the
family by sewing on a treadle during the Great Depression, but it's not
something you'd do for fun. I adore quilts and quilting. They accept
this about me but secretly wonder if I was switched at the hospital.


The first thing I did was take them for a tour of a quilt shop. I
didn't mean to. I wanted to drop by for a private orgy, but you know
how it is with family and limited time and rental cars. If I was going
to get a chance to go, they were going to come along.


The first point of connection was the 30s repro fabrics. I showed them
the shelf, told them about the renewed interest, and how these were
based on originals. They loved them. They thought of people they knew
who would wear housecoats made out of exactly such fabrics. They
remembered the way women would wear aprons with the small designs, then
take them off to go shopping downtown. They brought up the
sophisticated ladies who wore tailored black and pinstripe. Those were
30s fabrics too.


I showed Mom how new laser technologies made it possible to get a
greater selection of patterns on flannel. I noticed her reaching out to
pet the fabric. She's catching on, I thought.


The batiks had less appeal for them. They were interested in the room
of novelty fabrics. My nieces and nephews have different interests and
might like fabrics with basketballs or dolls. Mom was interested in a
Raggedy Anne doll for the youngest granddaughter, but she was so turned
off by the misspelling (raggaddy) that she thought better of buying it.


The sales clerk (owner?) asked us what sorts of quilts we made. I said
that I was mostly a piecer and machine quilter, that I knew how to do
hand applique and hand piecing, but while I love the result, I didn't
love doing it. Mom, of course, doesn't sew anything. It was a funny
moment. The women in the shop wanted to connect with Mom because she's
older, but Mom had no common ground with which to make that connection.


Dad was intrigued by big boxes of buttons. I helped him pick out 10
matching ones. As he now has the bent over shape of an old man, he has
a seamstress in Miami who puts buttons and button holes in the right
places so he can wear suspenders instead of a belt. He was thrilled
buying buttons.


They had a whole room of fusibles. I told my parents about how some
people love them and some people don't think their use belongs in real
quilting. I showed them the class samples of embroidery done on top of
the line Berninas and mentioned the same thing. Some think the new
technologies are great. Some think they're cheating.


I felt like a tour guide in my native country trying to give clueless
tourists some idea of why I love my home, why it excites me. My parents
understand enthusiasm, but they don't understand enthusiasm about fabric.


I showed them variagated thread. Dad pronounced that beautiful. I'd
realized that I hadn't found any fabric that I couldn't live without,
didn't have the suitcase space for it anyway, and was starting to feel
embarrassed for walking into a place of business and treating it like a
museum. Dad's getting hard of hearing, and they've both been loud
talkers their whole lives anyway, so I'd been practically yelling. I
couldn't walk out with only a purchase of buttons. So I bought
variagated thread, beautiful purples, blues, and greens.


There were more quilt shops in town, and Jim and I did find some time
alone to visit them, but the timing never worked. I didn't get to them
when they were open.


--Lia


Posted by Taria on August 30, 2008, 7:27 pm


I enjoyed your 'tour' Lia. You know a docent at the art museum told
me if I kept bringing my kids in they would learn to enjoy the place.
(free day only when nobody expected a nice quiet museum) It didn't
work so well on my kids but like you it wasn't due to my not trying.

I have gone along with my dad to what he calls 'the hippie book store'.
It is an occult store where he enjoys the astrology section. I try
to be interested but it is tough for me. I do like the crystals
but he isn't looking at those. I try.

My mom was my biggest sewing fan. I miss her. Gotta love family for
what they have in them though. Each has their own special gifts. I am
still looking for that is some family members. LOL


So what you gonna quilt with that thread? I enjoyed your stash
saga.
Taria



Julia Altshuler wrote:

> Jim and I are back from 10 days in Hendersonville where we met my
> parents for a family vacation. My parents have no interest in
> traditionally feminine activities. They actively don't know how to
> cook, go out a lot, or get others to cook for them. My mother treats a
> knowledge or interest in all things sewing as some arcane and useless
> talent, the way some people have perfect pitch or can intuit 12 digit
> prime numbers. My father has memories of his mother supporting the
> family by sewing on a treadle during the Great Depression, but it's not
> something you'd do for fun. I adore quilts and quilting. They accept
> this about me but secretly wonder if I was switched at the hospital.
>
>
> The first thing I did was take them for a tour of a quilt shop. I
> didn't mean to. I wanted to drop by for a private orgy, but you know
> how it is with family and limited time and rental cars. If I was going
> to get a chance to go, they were going to come along.
>
>
> The first point of connection was the 30s repro fabrics. I showed them
> the shelf, told them about the renewed interest, and how these were
> based on originals. They loved them. They thought of people they knew
> who would wear housecoats made out of exactly such fabrics. They
> remembered the way women would wear aprons with the small designs, then
> take them off to go shopping downtown. They brought up the
> sophisticated ladies who wore tailored black and pinstripe. Those were
> 30s fabrics too.
>
>
> I showed Mom how new laser technologies made it possible to get a
> greater selection of patterns on flannel. I noticed her reaching out to
> pet the fabric. She's catching on, I thought.
>
>
> The batiks had less appeal for them. They were interested in the room
> of novelty fabrics. My nieces and nephews have different interests and
> might like fabrics with basketballs or dolls. Mom was interested in a
> Raggedy Anne doll for the youngest granddaughter, but she was so turned
> off by the misspelling (raggaddy) that she thought better of buying it.
>
>
> The sales clerk (owner?) asked us what sorts of quilts we made. I said
> that I was mostly a piecer and machine quilter, that I knew how to do
> hand applique and hand piecing, but while I love the result, I didn't
> love doing it. Mom, of course, doesn't sew anything. It was a funny
> moment. The women in the shop wanted to connect with Mom because she's
> older, but Mom had no common ground with which to make that connection.
>
>
> Dad was intrigued by big boxes of buttons. I helped him pick out 10
> matching ones. As he now has the bent over shape of an old man, he has
> a seamstress in Miami who puts buttons and button holes in the right
> places so he can wear suspenders instead of a belt. He was thrilled
> buying buttons.
>
>
> They had a whole room of fusibles. I told my parents about how some
> people love them and some people don't think their use belongs in real
> quilting. I showed them the class samples of embroidery done on top of
> the line Berninas and mentioned the same thing. Some think the new
> technologies are great. Some think they're cheating.
>
>
> I felt like a tour guide in my native country trying to give clueless
> tourists some idea of why I love my home, why it excites me. My parents
> understand enthusiasm, but they don't understand enthusiasm about fabric.
>
>
> I showed them variagated thread. Dad pronounced that beautiful. I'd
> realized that I hadn't found any fabric that I couldn't live without,
> didn't have the suitcase space for it anyway, and was starting to feel
> embarrassed for walking into a place of business and treating it like a
> museum. Dad's getting hard of hearing, and they've both been loud
> talkers their whole lives anyway, so I'd been practically yelling. I
> couldn't walk out with only a purchase of buttons. So I bought
> variagated thread, beautiful purples, blues, and greens.
>
>
> There were more quilt shops in town, and Jim and I did find some time
> alone to visit them, but the timing never worked. I didn't get to them
> when they were open.
>
>
> --Lia
>


Posted by Polly Esther on August 30, 2008, 9:54 pm


Beautiful story, Lia. Thank you for sharing your quilt shopping event with
us. It's a memory you'll always cherish even if you came away almost
empty-handed. Polly

"Taria" <wrote>I enjoyed your 'tour' Lia. You know a docent at the art
museum told
> me if I kept bringing my kids in they would learn to enjoy the place.
> (free day only when nobody expected a nice quiet museum) It didn't
> work so well on my kids but like you it wasn't due to my not trying.
>
> I have gone along with my dad to what he calls 'the hippie book store'.
> It is an occult store where he enjoys the astrology section. I try
> to be interested but it is tough for me. I do like the crystals
> but he isn't looking at those. I try.
>
> My mom was my biggest sewing fan. I miss her. Gotta love family for
> what they have in them though. Each has their own special gifts. I am
> still looking for that is some family members. LOL
>
>
> So what you gonna quilt with that thread? I enjoyed your stash
> saga.

> Julia Altshuler wrote:
>
>> Jim and I are back from 10 days in Hendersonville where we met my
>> parents for a family vacation. My parents have no interest in
>> traditionally feminine activities. They actively don't know how to
>> cook, go out a lot, or get others to cook for them. My mother treats a
>> knowledge or interest in all things sewing as some arcane and useless
>> talent, the way some people have perfect pitch or can intuit 12 digit
>> prime numbers. My father has memories of his mother supporting the
>> family by sewing on a treadle during the Great Depression, but it's not
>> something you'd do for fun. I adore quilts and quilting. They accept
>> this about me but secretly wonder if I was switched at the hospital.
>>
>>
>> The first thing I did was take them for a tour of a quilt shop. I
>> didn't mean to. I wanted to drop by for a private orgy, but you know
>> how it is with family and limited time and rental cars. If I was going
>> to get a chance to go, they were going to come along.
>>
>>
>> The first point of connection was the 30s repro fabrics. I showed them
>> the shelf, told them about the renewed interest, and how these were
>> based on originals. They loved them. They thought of people they knew
>> who would wear housecoats made out of exactly such fabrics. They
>> remembered the way women would wear aprons with the small designs, then
>> take them off to go shopping downtown. They brought up the
>> sophisticated ladies who wore tailored black and pinstripe. Those were
>> 30s fabrics too.
>>
>>
>> I showed Mom how new laser technologies made it possible to get a
>> greater selection of patterns on flannel. I noticed her reaching out to
>> pet the fabric. She's catching on, I thought.
>>
>>
>> The batiks had less appeal for them. They were interested in the room
>> of novelty fabrics. My nieces and nephews have different interests and
>> might like fabrics with basketballs or dolls. Mom was interested in a
>> Raggedy Anne doll for the youngest granddaughter, but she was so turned
>> off by the misspelling (raggaddy) that she thought better of buying it.
>>
>>
>> The sales clerk (owner?) asked us what sorts of quilts we made. I said
>> that I was mostly a piecer and machine quilter, that I knew how to do
>> hand applique and hand piecing, but while I love the result, I didn't
>> love doing it. Mom, of course, doesn't sew anything. It was a funny
>> moment. The women in the shop wanted to connect with Mom because she's
>> older, but Mom had no common ground with which to make that connection.
>>
>>
>> Dad was intrigued by big boxes of buttons. I helped him pick out 10
>> matching ones. As he now has the bent over shape of an old man, he has
>> a seamstress in Miami who puts buttons and button holes in the right
>> places so he can wear suspenders instead of a belt. He was thrilled
>> buying buttons.
>>
>>
>> They had a whole room of fusibles. I told my parents about how some
>> people love them and some people don't think their use belongs in real
>> quilting. I showed them the class samples of embroidery done on top of
>> the line Berninas and mentioned the same thing. Some think the new
>> technologies are great. Some think they're cheating.
>>
>>
>> I felt like a tour guide in my native country trying to give clueless
>> tourists some idea of why I love my home, why it excites me. My parents
>> understand enthusiasm, but they don't understand enthusiasm about fabric.
>>
>>
>> I showed them variagated thread. Dad pronounced that beautiful. I'd
>> realized that I hadn't found any fabric that I couldn't live without,
>> didn't have the suitcase space for it anyway, and was starting to feel
>> embarrassed for walking into a place of business and treating it like a
>> museum. Dad's getting hard of hearing, and they've both been loud
>> talkers their whole lives anyway, so I'd been practically yelling. I
>> couldn't walk out with only a purchase of buttons. So I bought
>> variagated thread, beautiful purples, blues, and greens.
>>
>>
>> There were more quilt shops in town, and Jim and I did find some time
>> alone to visit them, but the timing never worked. I didn't get to them
>> when they were open.
>>
>>
>> --Lia
>>
>



Posted by Roberta on August 31, 2008, 5:59 am


What a wonderful story! Now they know much more about you, which
probably pleases them. You could use that variegated thread in a
little piece for your father and give him the thrill of recognizing
it.
I've taken non-quilters shopping before, and it's always interesting.
My dad was especially taken with the computerized gadgets -they had a
machine set up to stitch out a complicated embroidery, with no one
even sitting next to it!
Roberta in D

On Sat, 30 Aug 2008 18:40:27 -0400, Julia Altshuler

>Jim and I are back from 10 days in Hendersonville where we met my
>parents for a family vacation. My parents have no interest in
>traditionally feminine activities. They actively don't know how to
>cook, go out a lot, or get others to cook for them. My mother treats a
>knowledge or interest in all things sewing as some arcane and useless
>talent, the way some people have perfect pitch or can intuit 12 digit
>prime numbers. My father has memories of his mother supporting the
>family by sewing on a treadle during the Great Depression, but it's not
>something you'd do for fun. I adore quilts and quilting. They accept
>this about me but secretly wonder if I was switched at the hospital.
>
>
>The first thing I did was take them for a tour of a quilt shop. I
>didn't mean to. I wanted to drop by for a private orgy, but you know
>how it is with family and limited time and rental cars. If I was going
>to get a chance to go, they were going to come along.
>
>
>The first point of connection was the 30s repro fabrics. I showed them
>the shelf, told them about the renewed interest, and how these were
>based on originals. They loved them. They thought of people they knew
>who would wear housecoats made out of exactly such fabrics. They
>remembered the way women would wear aprons with the small designs, then
>take them off to go shopping downtown. They brought up the
>sophisticated ladies who wore tailored black and pinstripe. Those were
>30s fabrics too.
>
>
>I showed Mom how new laser technologies made it possible to get a
>greater selection of patterns on flannel. I noticed her reaching out to
>pet the fabric. She's catching on, I thought.
>
>
>The batiks had less appeal for them. They were interested in the room
>of novelty fabrics. My nieces and nephews have different interests and
>might like fabrics with basketballs or dolls. Mom was interested in a
>Raggedy Anne doll for the youngest granddaughter, but she was so turned
>off by the misspelling (raggaddy) that she thought better of buying it.
>
>
>The sales clerk (owner?) asked us what sorts of quilts we made. I said
>that I was mostly a piecer and machine quilter, that I knew how to do
>hand applique and hand piecing, but while I love the result, I didn't
>love doing it. Mom, of course, doesn't sew anything. It was a funny
>moment. The women in the shop wanted to connect with Mom because she's
>older, but Mom had no common ground with which to make that connection.
>
>
>Dad was intrigued by big boxes of buttons. I helped him pick out 10
>matching ones. As he now has the bent over shape of an old man, he has
>a seamstress in Miami who puts buttons and button holes in the right
>places so he can wear suspenders instead of a belt. He was thrilled
>buying buttons.
>
>
>They had a whole room of fusibles. I told my parents about how some
>people love them and some people don't think their use belongs in real
>quilting. I showed them the class samples of embroidery done on top of
>the line Berninas and mentioned the same thing. Some think the new
>technologies are great. Some think they're cheating.
>
>
>I felt like a tour guide in my native country trying to give clueless
>tourists some idea of why I love my home, why it excites me. My parents
>understand enthusiasm, but they don't understand enthusiasm about fabric.
>
>
>I showed them variagated thread. Dad pronounced that beautiful. I'd
>realized that I hadn't found any fabric that I couldn't live without,
>didn't have the suitcase space for it anyway, and was starting to feel
>embarrassed for walking into a place of business and treating it like a
>museum. Dad's getting hard of hearing, and they've both been loud
>talkers their whole lives anyway, so I'd been practically yelling. I
>couldn't walk out with only a purchase of buttons. So I bought
>variagated thread, beautiful purples, blues, and greens.
>
>
>There were more quilt shops in town, and Jim and I did find some time
>alone to visit them, but the timing never worked. I didn't get to them
>when they were open.
>
>
>--Lia

Posted by Julia Altshuler on August 31, 2008, 10:05 pm


My grandparents had a summer home in Hendersonville. The last time I
was there must have been when I was 13 or 14. The house was long since
sold. Several owners have lived there since. My parents remember the
area well. This was a nostalgic trip for them. They kept asking me if
I remembered this or remembered that. The answer was always no. They
even got Jim to drive us all out to the exact street where the house
still stands. Nothing was familiar.


Dad walked straight up to the
house, knocked, explained to the annoyed man who answered that he used
to live there and asked if he could look around. The man answered no.
If I'd known what Dad was going to do, I would have stopped him. As it
was, I merely wanted to climb into a hole, but Dad has reached that age
where people make allowances for him. He talks loudly about people in
their presence too. No one seemed to take offense. That's either
because North Carolinians are nice or because they all have grandfathers
at home themselves. Mom gets away with things too. At a restaurant on
the Blue Ridge Parkway, Mom got up to get a closer look at a special
sort of wine dispenser. If I'd done it, a waiter would have kindly
asked me to keep out of the way. When Mom did it, no one said a word.


One place that my parents remembered especially fondly was the Folk Arts
Center in Asheville. They bought a beautiful handcrafted wooden bench
there 30 years ago and figured they'd go back and get another. No
similar bench was to be found, but it was a wonderful outing.


Oddly enough, I was more impressed with the turned wood bowls, the
stained glass, and some of the pottery than I was with most of the
quilts. It was nothing I could put my finger on. Maybe it was the way
I thought the quilts had gotten too far away from their roots. Yet I've
said that I love artquilts, so maybe it was just that I didn't think the
ones displayed were the best examples. I've seen better in shows.


I was more impressed with the quilts I saw in an antiques mall on
Brevard's main street. On another day, we'd driven out to Brevard. My
parents are slowing down. Dad especially can handle a little activity,
then needs to nap. Mom can stay awake longer, but she has a
hard time in the heat-- which is defined as anything sunny. So we'd
taken a very short hike in a state park, seen a waterfall which
couldn't have been a quarter mile from the parking lot, continued on to
Brevard, had lunch, and just as I would have loved to walk up and down
Main Street, my parents had had enough. I convinced them to walk into a
store with antiques in the window that was between the restaurant and
the car.


It was the best thing I could have done. They loved it. They'd never
been anywhere like it. They remarked on that at length. I explained
that I didn't go into Antiques Malls daily, but I had seen them before,
that they were fairly common with a lot of dealers all with merchandise
displayed under one roof. That meant that there were quilts speckled a
few places around the store.


The one I liked the most was an orange peel with a white background.
What made it especially interesting in addition to good workmanship was
that it used a lot of 30s fabrics. After talking about 30s
reproduction fabrics only days earlier, it was cool to see the real
deal. Right next to it was a nearly all white quilt that was quilted
with white thread. It wasn't quite a whole cloth, but it was close.
Mom said that she was thinking that there wasn't much work on that one,
then saw the stitching and knew better. See? She's learning.


Upstairs, they had a whole section of pages from popular magazines from
the 40s. That was a hit. You could reach in at random and see some ad
for Karo Syrup or for train travel on pullman cars where the ad writers
were trying to turn the wartime shortages into advantages. They were
selling everything by appeals to patriotism.


I saw the most unusual quilt there. It wasn't in the best shape. In
some of the scraps, the weft threads had worn away. That gave me
another chance to show off my superior knowledge. (That's a joke. I've
picked up a lot of information about quilts and quilting as we all have.
I'm no expert.) With all the avenues to take an interest in quilting
in, I've purposely avoided antiques. If I got into them, I'd be
collecting old quilts in addition to a fabric stash, and there literally
would be no place to live in the house.


First I explained how cotton fibers usually last a long time but when
certain sorts of fancier silks were used something in the mordants for
the dyes (not sure of this; I said I was no expert) the chemicals in the
fiber itself made it deteriorate faster. That would explain patches
with some fibers still in good shape and others that were non-existent.
But that wasn't the most interesting thing. This quilt was made with
rectangular blocks.


I'd told my parents how a block is a repeating design motif. At the
fabric store, Mom had picked up a book on sampler quilts and had asked
what made a sampler. I explained how blocks are repeating motifs but
how they don't have to repeat in a single quilt. During that
explanation, I said how blocks are nearly always square, sometimes
hexagonal, and not other tesselating shapes until the modern day.
(There are exceptions. You have one-patch quilts made up of equalateral
triangles or apple cores, but those would be called patches, not blocks.)


And then we see a quilt with a rectangular block made up of half square
triangles with an alternating plain (rectangular block). I'd never seen
anything like it and wondered if I should be getting a photograph.


The other place we saw quilts was in Asheville's arboretum, but I'll
save that for my next post.


--Lia


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