people watching – Sandy Gilreath

SlowExposures

When we leave home for one of our Saturday “ride abouts”, we don’t always know where we’ll end up. Our most recent experience was at a county-wide photography exhibit. We stopped at one of our favorite bookstores, A Novel Experience, in Zebulon, only to discover it was on this day headquarters for glory.

Well, glory our way. SlowExposures, A Juried Exhibition Celebrating Photography of the Rural South, was in full swing in Pike County. Walking and driving to at least seven sites, we met interesting people, saw interesting photography and other art forms, and came away inspired.

Every person we met was friendly and informative and urged us to visit other artists as well. So we moved through the day on those recommendations, going from one “pop-up” venue to the next, only to be greeted by more fabulous photography, more unique ideas in presentation, more friendly people.

The photos were images made all over the South. The photographers were from as far away as Maine, and the exhibit was the 16th of its kind. How did we not know of this? Well, we know now!

There was a competitive collection of single images, and there were “pop-ups” all over the county. A pop-up exhibit was a collection of work from a single photographer or from groups with some common theme. Subject matter, or technique, or presentation could unite them for this exhibit.

If you think a picture is worth a thousand words, you can’t image the volumes spoken by some of these displays.

A collection documenting the memorabilia left behind by a soldier who ended his own life in 1959 was sobering The images mounted on black wood, in black frames, finished without a glass barrier, are stark and convey the mood of the project beautifully. (You can see photos of this here. Neither Jim nor I took snapshots of this work, it seemed disrespectful somehow – the display was the powerful.)

A former architect displayed part of an ongoing project to photograph all the azaleas in his home town. He lives in Nachez, MS, so that’s a lot of azalea blooms.

The settings for the exhibit were likewise intriguing. The main gallery was housed in an old store building in a small town six miles away from the county seat. Pop-ups were in commercial and government buildings as well as unique buildings in the community repurposed for this weekend’s treasures.

One artist had the fortune to have his work displayed in a stable. To take advantage of this venue, he created amazing large-scale displays to share his Forest re-Framed. There were dimensional elements, large scale prints with plates of glass in front to vary the distance from the viewer. There were huge prints on canvas with natural light illuminating the photos.

There were a couple of artists housed in a sharecropper’s cabin. The exposed structure of the building, painted white, was a perfect backdrop for their works.

Maybe I’m saving the best for the last. Or maybe just after such a day the anticipation builds so the last thing is the best. But our final visit was to the Hive, a small building (renamed for these two days) containing four artists who incorporate beeswax into their photo displays. Each of the four uses different subject matter and processes to make their encaustic work unique, but all were fascinating to this Beekeeper’s Daughter.

I felt a special kinship with Kevin. Kevin finds vintage photos at flea markets, collages the photos with other objects, and makes up a story about the person in the photo. Yes, like I did with Margene and Ruth, to name a couple – just makes stuff up! When I shared that I love to tell stories though my work, too, Kevin and I bonded. He gave me permission to share a photo of him, of some of his work, and later, he demonstrated his technique with wax. An earlier photo shows a closeup of one of his collages, but the shot below includes one of the fabulous vintage frames that completes his work.

Inspired, intrigued, amazed, fascinated; all good words to sum up the day. Another example of retired life with open-ended adventures! Except for the old geezer who pretended his name was Jim in order to claim our food in a crowded restaurant, the day was fabulous! Even that situation was quickly remedied by a poised waitress and it gave us another funny store to share for years to come.

Note: here are links to more of the artists whose work I described:

Satterfield’s Farewell

We bid farewell to a good friend today. A favorite restaurant is closing this week, so we ate one last lunch there. There are other restaurants in town where boiled peanuts are served as an appetizer, where waitresses are friendly, and where the food is good. But we will miss Satterfield’s.

This is a place where we’ve taken several out-of-town visitors to experience good southern food and atmosphere. It’s a spot where we’ve happily bumped into friends and enjoyed an impromptu reunion. We treasure the memories of conversations on the porch, meals in the sunken dining area, and the delight on the waitress’s face when our grandson ate everything he had ordered – and it was a lot! We even had our favorite parking spot.

Many final experiences are enjoyed without knowing it’s the last time you’ll be there doing that. In this case, the owner announced a few weeks ago that the restaurant will be closing. Happily, he’s just slowing down, not stopping. So some recipes and menu items will live on at another restaurant in town, but we will miss Satterfield’s.

One of my first thoughts when I read about the plans was, “where will that guy eat?” ‘That guy’ being a regular customer. He’s been there every time we’ve been for lunch, sitting at the same table. I wrote about him here. So, today I asked our waitress about him. She said he was wondering the same thing.

We are certainly not the only ones feeling the melancholy today. One waitress said, “it’s hitting me now. I’ve been in denial for three weeks, but today it seems real.” Other customers were ordering everything on the menu, to taste it all one last time. Some were taking selfies with their favorite waitress. One woman was there alone, her husband’s poor health having kept her away in recent months. But she had made special arrangements today to come have lunch. The staff pampered her with extra attention.

That’s the biggest thing we will miss. The love that was served with the food.

Lakewood Treasures

It started outside…I was inspired from the get-go by someone else’s embroidery and button designs in white frames on canvas. Napkin rings were made from silver-plate forks bent into an oval shape. There’s an idea!

And, color! The display of Fiestaware shown above is an eyecather by anyone’s definition. I don’t collect this dinnerware, but I certainly admire the pure saturated colors. This palette could be mimicked with solid Kona cottons in any modern quilt project.

This was the same day at Lakewood that I met Kristine, the Button Lady I wrote about recently. I promised to share more of the treasures and stories from that adventure.

So… I was gathering inspiration before I even got in the building. And, I bought things outside, too.

My first purchase was a couple of vintage cross-stitched pieces and a small black embroidered pillow from a vendor named Kathleen. As I gave her my $15, she said, “Thank you. You just bought two bags of feed for my horses.” She further explained. “I have retired race horses at my home in TN. My husband said, ‘If you want to keep them, you have to find a way to support them.’ So doing these markets is how I keep my horses.”

Inside, I found a lovely old tablecloth with lots of blue cross-stitch. The proprietor wasn’t there, so I hid it inside a cabinet so no one else would buy it before I got back. “It is damaged,” she said, when I returned to retrieve it and make my purchase. Yes, it’s damaged. I still love it.

Then in the ribbon emporium, I found sari silk, hand-dyed french silk ribbons in all widths, sparkly threads, glorious new printed ribbons with feathers and swallows, and some irresistible rayon.

Other booths inspired me with ladders laden with vintage cotton tablecloths, lots of blue and white displays of china, blue and white linens, If there was a color combination for the day, it was blue-and-white. That could be true of any day for me, because I gravitate toward that pairing whenever I see it. But there really was an abundance in sight this day.

I photographed Laurie’s booth filled with baby delights. Soft colors and fabrics in blankets, toys, and clothing for tender skin of babes and toddlers. As we chatted, I told this entrepreneur about the imaginary granddaughter that I conjure up when I want to sew with girly-girl colors. I learned that Laurie doesn’t have grandchildren yet, but she has a “Grandma’s hope chest.” “Maybe that’s what I should call my booth,” she exclaimed!

I visited with Ginnie and bought napkins and towels to use in the kitchen (or use in sewing projects). I bought a runner made from salvageable bits of an old indigo and white quilt and a length of blue lace with bunnies in the design. She had lots of tatting and trims, as well. Ginnie doesn’t have granddaughters, either. She has sons and grandsons (and three daughters-in-law that she loves). She feeds her love of feminine delights by buying and selling linens, old quilts, and trims.

Believe it or not, there are things I see and like but don’t buy. I passed on a $14 barkcloth bag – colors not in may comfort zone. Later I bought this piece of barkcloth ample to make several bags. A bargain at $15 and in colors I like to use!

There was a lovely linen tablecloth with purple morning glories. If only they had been blue!

I wasn’t the only one having fun looking and visiting with old and new friends – I took Missy’s photo in front of the Minnie Pearl booth! That’s what she called it, anyway. I think the expression on her face tells the story of what fun is to be had junking with the experts!

The conversations I have on days like this with strangers who are friends are unique. Some of these vendors are people I will see time after time, others whose paths won’t cross mine again. But for a few moments, we shared bits of our stories with each other. We share a love of things with a history behind them. And we relish the display of simply beautiful objects dancing with each other. I will remember these bits of conversation after we go our separate ways. Their ideas and wares will impact my thinking, my fiber art, and my own story as life goes on. I guess a part of me may go with them, too.

A Step Back Christmas

Even the outhouse was decorated for Christmas.

It was a cold bleak morning as we set out on a time travel adventure. We headed to a settlement called Step Back – a Victorian village – was open to the public to celebrate Christmas old style.

On 200 acres, a man with a vision has created a historic settlement. Roger Pierce has a general store, a schoolhouse, a church, and many farm sheds and buildings. Often the acreage is quiet, sometimes populated by school groups or scouts who have made plans to visit for a day. But yesterday was its annual opening to the public for Christmas.

Family members, friends, and local community members dressed in period clothing were on hand to educate and entertain. There was a corn sheller operating, grinding corn using energy from the waterwheel. A schoolmarm was on hand to answer questions and lead children in the construction of paper chains to decorate the tree. In the church, live piano music provided the perfect backdrop of Christmas carols and hymns.

Oh, and there were women, who for this day, donned their Victorian best dresses to pose as floozies. They layered the clothing to ward off the cold, fortified themselves with a bit of antifreeze (medicinal, they said). As they raised a toast, I heard “May we be floozed the rest of our lives!”

While walking about, we ran into old friends and made new friends. In a picturesque setting, we were enchanted with simple decorations of the past. As the day progressed, the sun came out from behind the clouds, and more people came out, too.

The people of this community recognize this treasure and come to show their appreciation. The owner was a local businessman with a love of history. After he retired, he began to create this haven. In some cases, he found old buildings and dismantled them and rebuilt them on his property. Other buildings are made from trees growing on his property. Likewise, the furniture and contents of the buildings are assembled from a wide range of sources. All of it comes together in a bucolic settlement which serves to trigger memories in older folks and educate the young.

Mr. Pierce charges no admission at Christmas or any other time. Those who choose to make a donation know that it will be used to buy toys for children whose Christmas would be less abundant without it.

And, did I say that “Mayor Pierce” wears overalls? Well, of course he does. Yesterday, many of the men working there, and some of the visitors, were wearing overalls. Yes, I got lots of photos. Yes, there will be some art quilts depicting this place!

The Camera

Sometimes the camera tells a story. Sometimes the camera is the story.

While exploring in some antique stores on Friday, I found some treasures. Bits of lace, buttons, old hand embroidery.

And photos of unknown folks with a story to tell.

Jim found a treasure, too. A miniature 35mm camera with leather case, original box, and paperwork. He enjoys giving these tools new jobs to do, running a roll of film through them, letting the camera tell stories again.

On Saturday, he took it to a local shop to get a new battery. The store owner, George, said, “I remember an occasion when I worked on a camera exactly like this one time before.” It was at a gathering hosted by Phil Walden in the 1970’s. A fellow came by with a camera like this in his hand, profanely exclaiming that it wasn’t working properly. George asked what seemed to be the problem, adding, “I work on cameras, I can look at it for you if you like.” Taking the offered camera, making the necessary adjustments, George got the camera working and handed it back. Andy walked away and continued photographing the social event.

Years later, the two men’s paths crossed again in New York. Andy looked at George and said, “Don’t I know you from somewhere?” After hearing, “I repaired a camera for you once in Macon, Ga.,” Mr. Warhol muttered, “Oh, yeah,” as he walked away.

Steel Magnolia

I heard her voice before I saw her.

While I was checking in with the receptionist, I heard her explaining to her husband about his procedure. She lovingly, kindly, patiently explained the test they would perform on his arteries.

With my clipboard in hand, I sat near the husband on a couch in the waiting room. I realized a woman in a wheelchair was near him, but didn’t pay much attention. As I answered the questions about my medical history and symptoms with almost all no’s, I realized how fortunate I am to have these interruptions to my schedule – these bothersome tests that are recommended when one reaches a certain age – be nothing more than that. I became conscious of the frail woman sitting near me. She couldn’t have weighed more than 80 pounds. But her leg braces and shoes looked much heavier. She sat erect in that chair, though, alert and composed.

After her husband was called for his procedure, she sat quietly waiting. When I heard a mechanical sound, I realized she had tapped her watch and it was audibilizing the time for her. I paused to think of the challenges she has every day and now her husband is in for some tests. My interruption to my day for this pesky test was seeming less troublesome by the moment.

Before I could complete my pages of family medical history and engage her in conversation, her partner returned. He said, “ I can go now. Should we call transport?” “Yes, push me over and we’ll ask them to call.” She tapped her watch again and it gave the time as “8:05.” Then again, and it spoke “8:06.” But it was 11:06 a.m. Oh, my.

The pair approached the desk where, in a confident voice, she asked, “Could you call our transport for us, please? The number is ….”. She recited the ten digits confidently. And, then, “Thank you,” in as strong a voice as any southern lady possesses. That voice alerted me that this woman did not want my sympathy. She has my respect.

I’ve thought of this couple many times in the days since that encounter. I wonder about his test results. I wonder who cooks for them. I wonder if they get out a lot and interact with other people. But I do not wonder if she is handling everything like a steel magnolia. I know she is.

Art quilt notes: The finished size is 13” x 17”. The line drawing is free-motion machine stitched on a remnant of an old linen pillowcase. The remainder of the work is hand stitching – layers of vintage lace, buttons, and an old quilt fragment complete the assembly. The lace tablecloth remnant and linen coaster used as a label were dyed in my indigo vat.

Backroad Therapy

The past couple of weeks have been filled with busyness; so we decided on a day of exploring. Our country drive took us past peaceful scenes of green, pastures filled with cows, fields of hay just mown – and some just baled, and irrigation systems at work. We were headed to Molena and Woodbury, to check shops we like in those towns, and Zebulon to visit the bookstore.

We explored several antique stores. A few items came home with us but we mostly collected ideas. Ideas for the porches, for decorating, for repurposing some old crates and boxes and cans.

Most shops weren’t very busy (one of the perks of being retired and being able to shop on weekdays) so we had Interesting conversations with shop proprietors. There was the lady who had a midnight visit from a female cardinal in her workshop, there was the handyman who built a bench from an old spool bed, and we missed the Corgi named Macon in one of our regular shops. It seems her owner had errands to run before opening the shop today, so Macon got the day off. We met Macon on an earlier visit I shared here.

The other customers who did appear offered opportunities for people watching and people listening. I overheard a man say, “we could buy this and I could strip it down to the original wood.” He was referring to a table I’ve admired before. I admired it in part for its wonderful new chalk-paint finish.

Lunch was high on the agenda, because we remembered the fabulous food at The Blackbird Cafe.

The place is entrancing with tables and light fixtures made from pipes, peeling plaster revealing brick beneath, and condiments corralled in sewing machine drawers. The food is wonderful, too. Their homemade kaiser rolls were still warm from the morning’s oven and were just as heavenly as we had remembered. Yum.

We were there early, so the photos showing the space without people is misleading. The people did come. They do come. Every day.

More walking, more exploring, more driving about. Then we went to Red Oak Covered Bridge. It’s the oldest in Ga, and you still drive across it. We both marveled at the same feature – no graffiti. Wow. There is a sign saying “No Graffiti – $1000 fine”. Maybe Meriwether County officials enforce that.

Another day spent enjoying the world, seeing the beauty close to home, and treasuring the pleasure of the moment. Those are important goals since two funerals were included in our busyness recently. Death is a part of life, but when it comes to someone we know, especially when it’s unexpected, we are reminded to enjoy the everyday. Yesterday we did just that.

Quilters’ Retreat

A few days ago, I crashed a party. We were on a backroads jaunt and I remembered that some of my friends were attending a quilting retreat at a nearby wildlife refuge. I asked Jim to make a stop and let me say Hello. He asked, “Can you just pop in? Were you invited? “ I assured him, “It will be fine. They won’t mind. They will all be happy to show me their projects.”

And, they were. They were busy. They were happy. And they did not mind my intrusion.

There is a reason many quilters like the bee motif. Quilters and bees buzz about with a purpose in mind and get things done!

I was greeted with smiles and hugs from many friends, and made the acquaintance of new quilters as well. Sheila and Barbara and Jean and Donna were the first to see me and report on the fun. I didn’t get photos of everyone’s work, but everyone was busy and productive.
Angie was piecing some animals. Mary was working with baskets. Jean had stars on her design wall. She had discovered that her alternate blocks were cut from directional fabric, unnoticed until they were put on the wall. She had lots of advisors to help her decide how to deal with this dilemma.

Joyce had two big appliqué projects: a Baltimore Album that just needs a few details and a border attached, and a fabulous Kim McLean pattern all with big pieces of Kaffe fabrics. Joyce is one of our guild’s charter members and she still produces more quilts than several of the rest of us combined! She was sitting beside Hilda, her BFF for more than FIFTY years. They have worked on many projects and been to many retreats and heard many stories in that time, don’t you know?

Dewey was there with his longarm machine and an eight-foot table. He had already quilted two quilts at the retreat for other participants and was doodling on his machine while he waited for others to get backs prepared for him to quilt their tops.

Here is Donna working on a One-Block Wonder. And Dewey had just finished the quilting on her Friendship Garden before the retreat. Now she can add the binding and label and it’s done!

Mary had run to the store, but her work-in-progress is here. Mary is the organizer of this event. Someone has to take charge and she does it well! She reserves the space, organizes the guest list, plans the food, and assures that everyone has fun. And she is successful, because these people plan their calendars around Mary’s retreat dates. Because of her, the sisterhood thrives.

Candace is a local designer and teacher with her own line of patterns. Here she is working on a new pattern design. And there were some of her finished products with chickens made from her hand-woven fabrics. Wow!

Lynn was putting the finishing touches on a garden scene, while Eleanor was working on a batik project complete with labels to insure that every block ended up in exactly the right place.

Getting away from home, focusing on a project or two, socializing while you work, learning from each other, what a blast! I loved visiting this beehive.

Drugstore Deli

Sometimes the quaintest treasures are right in our own backyards. On a recent afternoon when we were out antiquing, we found a delightful lunch spot in an old downtown building in small town USA.

As is our habit, we were eating after the crowded hour, in fact, we had the place to ourselves. It was open, inviting, very clean, and offered just the menu we were looking for; soups, sandwiches, salads.

Our waitress Vicki told us that the soup was almost gone, being in high demand on a such a cold day. There was less than a serving (by their standards) left of today’s special so they gave us a complimentary bowl. It was fabulous, as were our sandwiches. But before the food was served, I was captivated by the decor. There were quilts! An old log cabin quilt first caught my eye. It was hung above a beautiful dresser and its subtle colors and handwork stole my heart! A more modern medallion quilt was displayed in another corner, and yet another eyecatcher, a blue and white quilt, was used on a table.

I asked permission to take photos and shared my fascination with the old log cabin quilt. The conversation led to an old-home-week kind of reunion with people I’d never met. Jo, the owner, came out of the kitchen to share the quilt stories. The log cabin quilt came from her husband’s family. Her father-in-law had two aunts, Alice and Exor, who did a lot of needlework of all types. One or maybe both of these women worked on this piece of family history.

Jo is not a quilter, but has treasured the quilts these family members made and decorates her home and restaurant with them. Vicki has done needlework in the past, but quilting is not part of her experience (yet) though she has friends who sew and quilt.

In the course of the conversation, I learned that Jo’s husband, and his quilting aunts, were related to Ferrol Sams. Yes, the same Ferrol Sams whose novels and short stories are part of the great storytelling tradition of the South.

The sisterhood of experiences connecting us with needle and thread is never to be denied. Vicki told of her friend who makes bags, pillows, quilts, when she hears of a need. I recalled the women in the Peachtree City guild who were making tote bags and duffle bags for children in foster care to use. I never cease to be amazed at the generosity of women who sew.

I have a stack of muted red fabrics from the French General line that are waiting to be cut up and sewn back together. After seeing that old quilt in similar colors hanging in the Drugstore Deli, I’m thinking log cabin is a good plan.

Our outing that day was a mere 20 miles from home, in Byron, Ga. The Drugstore Deli is in corner building near the railroad tracks.

Fair Days

I’m home after three days at the Georgia National Fair where I shared my work as one of their Artists in Residence.

Though I’ve long recognized quilts as an art form, I’m still surprised to see the word artist after my name. This experience was affirming and fulfilling for me, and I hope it was informative and inspirational to others.

The photo shows my booth where I shared my quilting stories and demonstrated techniques. I had several quilts entered in the fair, and three of them were easily visible from my booth. Whether by design or coincidence, the fair organizers added opportunities for me to share more stories of making bed-sized quilts on a home sewing machine, improvisational piecing in the style of Gee’s Bend quilts, and Government Bird Goin’ for a Ride.

Jim and I enjoyed the opportunity to visit with former students, their parents, and now husbands, wives, and children. We saw former work colleagues and friends, made connections with other artists in textiles, photography, woodworking, drawing, painting, and sculpting. We made many new friends as people stopped to talk about quilts, my ragged lamp, and my Featherweight sewing machine.

I took the Featherweight because it is my traveling sewing friend. I take it to classes and work sessions at our local guild, I have taken it on a photo trip when Jim was taking a course and I would have time alone in a motel room. It is compact, light weight, and a work horse. Maybe everyone knows that. But everyone doesn’t know that it can be used for free-motion quilting.

One of the goals of my days at the fair was to share the technique of hand-guided, free-motion quilting. I chose the Featherweight because it is a simple straight stitch machine. That’s all you need. I wanted to erase the notion that you can’t quilt without a big, expensive, computerized machine. The Featherweight conveyed that message well.

Children were fascinated with the Featherweight. Maybe because it is so small and sweet it looks manageable. It’s certainly not threatening in any way. I stitched names into quilt sandwiches for Marin, Christopher, Alexis, Catherine, Mark, and more. Fragments of cloth, batting, and a bit of thread can bring smiles to faces of children of all ages.

I talked to men and women whose mothers or grandmothers quilted and they wish they had learned from them while they could. (I’ll be your substitute Grandma. I didn’t listen to mine like I should have either, but other quilters and I will be glad to step in and fill in the gaps. Send me an email (sandy@sandygilreath.com) with a question and I’ll link you to a tutorial online or try to answer you in some way.)

I talked with women who made one quilt, or started one, then became frustrated with a skill they didn’t have, and put it away. I talked with those who work full time and can’t work it in their schedule. My answers: “Relax, it’s supposed to be fun.” “Join a guild. Someone there will offer advice and assistance,” “Start with something portable, like English Paper Piecing.”

I talked with young families wherein the husband/dad wants to explore quilting. One asked if he could start learning with a $100 machine from a bargain store. My advice was to find a reliable used older machine. I fear that a new one made with plastic parts will be less sturdy and operate less smoothly than an old one. “I’m afraid if you have frustrations with tension or mechanics as you are learning, you might think you don’t like sewing; but what you don’t like is a cheap machine.”

I have almost all my baskets unpacked and things back in place in my sewing room. My brain is bursting with ideas generated by conversations over the past few days. Fun times stitching ahead!

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