Today my mom and I went to an Amish Quilt auction. I’m not particularly enamoured by the Amish, but I do find them a curious subculture. With their homemade clothing in shades of blue, green, and maroon, I sometimes wondered if their color choices also indicated their family origin.
The quilts show exquisite skill. They do not, however, show exquisite fabric. This is the great travesty of this quilt show/auction: cheap fabric. Low thread count in some (not all) of the quilts takes away from the mastery of skill. The quilts still fetched excellent prices, so either I’m a big snob or buyers are blinded by the “Amish Made” tag (which, let’s face it, is why the Amish allow us outsiders onto their farm once a year).
They do not like to have their pictures taken. I only had courage to ask a small group of nine-year-oldish boys, and they said no and scurried around a corner where they peered at me taking pictures of other things. After that I had to be stealthy and shoot “from the hip” – meaning I needed to focus by listening to the beep my camera gives to tell me its focused rather than bring it up to my eye. I got this shot from that business:
Eventually I was found out, however, as the last half hour we were there, everytime I brought out my camera, there were some young men perched somewhere over my shoulder. I figured they were there to either tell me to stop it or because they were curious about the camera. In the end, I just put it away as I had visions of Harrison Ford popping one to the obnoxious tourist in Witness (yep, being a little melodramatic there).