Yesterday we went downtown to catch the end of Artisphere. It was mobbed, partly because of the gorgeous weather (lucky participants!). On the way to Main St. from the parking lot, I saw this sign on the side of a building, a reminder of Greenville's former glory days as a textile manufacturing center:
Peculiar that the loom pictured is a handloom, not a power loom, but no matter. Nobody asked me.
Another bit of textile history, this time on the cloth beam of my upstairs loom, the one with the endless dishtowel warp on it. I've finally reached the end of the warp, but before I cut it off, I thought it was fun to look at it from the side. It's like the growth rings on a tree, revealing history to the patient observer. Now let's see...I think I can count ten, or is it eleven, dishtowels...
And personal history expressed in textiles: a few days ago a certain young lady had a volleyball accident in school, with a possible wrist fracture, and I was recruited to pick her up at school and take her to the doctor. Here's a jacquard sighting in the waiting room:
Turns out to have been a sprain, not a fracture. She's fine.