What are they and how did it all get started? Here is the story of the originator Donna Sue Groves. I've also included the links for Quilt Barns across America,utube video of Ky Quilt Barns,and Maps for Kentucky. Enjoy
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A Patchwork of Hope: Donna Sue Groves, the woman behind barn quilts, faces the challenge of her life
Losing a job and learning you have cancer would devastate just about anybody – except for Donna Sue Groves. She is a survivor. What helps Donna Sue fight is the love and support of family and friends, and the community she has helped create through a simple idea of painting colorful quilt squares on barns.
When Donna Sue Groves was a young girl she spent hours in the backseat of the family car during vacations. Sometimes they would travel from Crede, West Virginia to visit grandparents in their native Roane County, WV. Other times, they would drive through Pennsylvania, up to New England.
Somewhere along the way, her mother Nina Maxine Groves, created a game for Donna Sue and her brother based on the different types of barns they saw dotting the countryside. Points were awarded per barn and painted advertisement. Donna Sue got really good at spotting barns and grew to love the different shapes and the stories of the people who built and worked in the wooden structures.
Years later, when Donna Sue was divorced and her mother widowed, they purchased a farm in rural Adams County, Ohio. When they toured the property, they came across an old tobacco farm. Donna Sue had never seen one before and thought it was the ugliest thing she ever saw!
Looking at the distressed wood of the giant barn, she joked to her mother, a celebrated quiltmaker, that she would paint a quilt square on it to give it some color. Donna Sue had a great appreciation for the colorful fabrics and patterns pieced together by the skillful hands of her mother, as well as both her grandmothers.
Her promise of painting a square became a joke amongst friends and neighbors, until one day some of those friends encouraged Donna Sue to make good. But she didn’t want to paint just one square. With the help of the community, Donna Sue created a “Clothesline of Quilts” in Adams County. The idea was to create a driving trail of 20 squares so that tourists would come to the area to see the quilt barns and stop at local merchants. It would be a way to bring economic opportunity to the area.
The first square was unveiled in 2001 and Donna Sue immediately started getting calls from neighboring counties. They wanted to know how they could start their own trail; asking everything from where to get the paint to how big to paint the plywood squares. Donna Sue was happy to share what she knew.
Almost ten years later, it’s now the National Quilt Barn Trail, spanning more than 20 states and British Columbia. Donna Sue is even getting calls from overseas; she wants to start calling it the “International” Quilt Barn Trail. There are still moments of amazement that this phenomenon all started in a small Ohio community.
In 2003, the second of the Adams County quilt barn squares was unveiled. It was a “Snail’s Trail” quilt pattern added to the Groves’ old tobacco barn. Donna Sue and Nina Maxine even added a second square on the side of the barn that faces their homes, away from the road. It is just for them. A reminder of a promise kept and a promise to keep fighting, no matter what tomorrow may bring.
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a website for more info and Quilt Barns in other states;
http://www.americanquiltbarns.com
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Quilt Barns of Kentucky
http://youtu.be/QtIhl3CVsuI
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Ky Quilt Trails--Maps
http://www.kentuckyquilttrail.org/
Private 2 floor Antiques&Collectibles Shop. Privately owned and operated business. Located in Historic Downtown New Albany,Indiana. AntiqueAholics stock and run this store.
Tuesday, September 27, 2011
Sunday, September 25, 2011
The Eyes Have It
Faces remain a favorite style of figural costume jewelry
Ask the average person on the street why people love jewelry and answers might range from wise investment to frivolous fashion indulgence.
But there's a whole psychology surrounding jewelry too, and why we love what we love and when. For instance, look at three different time periods when large-scale jewelry was the rage: the 1940s, the 1980s, and for the past five years of the 21st Century. Was there a common link in those trends? Sort of.
When life suddenly revolves around rationing and sacrifice, it makes psychological sense that anything big and abundant is going to prove desirable. Maybe a fantastic new dress was out of the question during the worst war years, but an enormous brooch, big as a lapel, was affordable and could make stale fashions seem fresh.
Beyond size, whimsy was another key ingredient for obvious reasons: Light-hearted and novel distractions were cheering, whether in movies or on fashion modes.
In the 1980s, on the other hand, jewelry's large scale was the child of ostentation often married to wealth. Bigness during the Reagan years made a statement about who we hoped we were: important.
Today those two decades intersect. As the divide widens in America between the haves and have-nots, oversized pieces feed the needs of different socio-economic groups hankering for what adornment bestows. A well-heeled woman might opt for a large fancy-color diamond as an enviable and envy-arousing investment, or massive Iradj Moini jewel-encrusted collar that boldly asks: What Recession?
On the other side of greener pastures, someone unemployed and scared out of her wits about the future still needs the occasional balm of lovely novelty, so a big bib dripping in stones on sale for $10 at Burlington Coat Factory can make a girl at least feel for a week like a million bucks.
This is all a round-about way of traveling to the demise of one jewelry trend, which I don't understand at all. In the Facebook era, why would the long-time figural favorite – face jewelry – virtually be made no more? It doesn't make sense, unless jewelry houses put the kibosh on kissers because women weren't buying them, but since just about every jewelry collection includes multiple countenances, what gives? Psychologically speaking, I have no answers for that one.
Happily, the current unfortunate retail trend doesn't prevent us from relishing the many vintage and later visages on the secondary market. It's also worth mentioning that faces remain a favored realm among artists and artisans, if not jewelry companies.
The variety of human expressions cast as jewelry is vast. So are values, styles and quality. Technically, a face pin might be a museum-quality cameo carving worth thousands of dollars, a stunning, delicately painted portrait pin, Art Nouveau ladies cast in sterling silver.
Snag anything that's unusual or remarkable. A face brooch that looks like an Alien Geisha is one example. The flip side is a face that's straight-out beautiful.
Ask the average person on the street why people love jewelry and answers might range from wise investment to frivolous fashion indulgence.
But there's a whole psychology surrounding jewelry too, and why we love what we love and when. For instance, look at three different time periods when large-scale jewelry was the rage: the 1940s, the 1980s, and for the past five years of the 21st Century. Was there a common link in those trends? Sort of.
When life suddenly revolves around rationing and sacrifice, it makes psychological sense that anything big and abundant is going to prove desirable. Maybe a fantastic new dress was out of the question during the worst war years, but an enormous brooch, big as a lapel, was affordable and could make stale fashions seem fresh.
Beyond size, whimsy was another key ingredient for obvious reasons: Light-hearted and novel distractions were cheering, whether in movies or on fashion modes.
In the 1980s, on the other hand, jewelry's large scale was the child of ostentation often married to wealth. Bigness during the Reagan years made a statement about who we hoped we were: important.
Today those two decades intersect. As the divide widens in America between the haves and have-nots, oversized pieces feed the needs of different socio-economic groups hankering for what adornment bestows. A well-heeled woman might opt for a large fancy-color diamond as an enviable and envy-arousing investment, or massive Iradj Moini jewel-encrusted collar that boldly asks: What Recession?
On the other side of greener pastures, someone unemployed and scared out of her wits about the future still needs the occasional balm of lovely novelty, so a big bib dripping in stones on sale for $10 at Burlington Coat Factory can make a girl at least feel for a week like a million bucks.
This is all a round-about way of traveling to the demise of one jewelry trend, which I don't understand at all. In the Facebook era, why would the long-time figural favorite – face jewelry – virtually be made no more? It doesn't make sense, unless jewelry houses put the kibosh on kissers because women weren't buying them, but since just about every jewelry collection includes multiple countenances, what gives? Psychologically speaking, I have no answers for that one.
Happily, the current unfortunate retail trend doesn't prevent us from relishing the many vintage and later visages on the secondary market. It's also worth mentioning that faces remain a favored realm among artists and artisans, if not jewelry companies.
The variety of human expressions cast as jewelry is vast. So are values, styles and quality. Technically, a face pin might be a museum-quality cameo carving worth thousands of dollars, a stunning, delicately painted portrait pin, Art Nouveau ladies cast in sterling silver.
Snag anything that's unusual or remarkable. A face brooch that looks like an Alien Geisha is one example. The flip side is a face that's straight-out beautiful.
Sunday, September 18, 2011
Decorating with Vintage & Antique Plates
Have you looked at decorating magazines lately? The top interior designers are hanging plates everywhere! Decorating with plates is an inexpensive way to make a bold statement. Exquisite china that is beautifully arranged says much about the homeowner. Why not make vintage and antique china an integral part of your home décor?
Here are fifteen savvy styling tips to get you started:
1. Hang plates horizontally along the top of a wall as an interesting border.
2. Butter pats as a border make an exciting visual statement, particularly in the dining room and kitchen areas. Many collectors enjoy displaying butter pats along the kitchen soffit. Another idea, hang around window frame.
3. Place 3 plates in an arch around the top of a framed print/painting
4. Hang large 19th-century Staffordshire platters next to breakfast table or maybe over a door opening.
5. Don’t despair over chips, crazing or glaze flaws — they will add to the shabby chic appeal of this easy-on-the-budget decorating scheme.
6. Plain white ironstone plates in a grouping make a chic statement against exotic wallpapers or lively paint colors.
7. Try matching same theme plates and platters such as roses or fruit-motif. Sometimes mixed unrelated styles work if in same color tones. An arrangement of vintage plates representing various states or tourist destinations is a real conversation piece and a reminder of great vacations.
9. Plates combined with Impressionist artwork create a serene environment.
10. Hang your collection of pie plates
11. Don’t throw out your breakages! Use to make a mosaic and hang that on wall.
12. Display plates arranged in an arch over a buffet or sideboard.
13. Hang a wooden plate-rail shelf in a dining room, kitchen, or hallway, and use it to display plates and do change your exhibit seasonally.
14. In earthquake areas use museum wax to attach valuable china pieces to shelves. Then make sure the shelving unit is earthquake-strapped to the wall as well.
15. Hang a beautiful 19th-century Limoges plate on your office wall to remind you of the lovely home that you have to return to each evening.
Antique and vintage plates can be found at very reasonable prices and these stunning pieces with a history are so much more appealing than contemporary china. Wouldn’t you adore having your home decorated with quality Limoges or Staffordshire china?
Sunday, September 11, 2011
Victorian Pictorial Brass Buttons and others
Brass picture buttons from the Victorian era are very collectible. These charming discs were stamped with images taken from everything from operas to children’s books, and animals. In fact, if you wanted to tell the world you were a fan of a work of literature, you’d sew buttons featuring scenes from the novel or story on your coat or shirt. Other picture buttons took their cues from nature (flora and fauna), the sciences (stars and moons), or mythology (cupids and fairies).
Black glass buttons from the Victorian era came next. When the Queen’s husband, Prince Albert, died in 1861, the monarch took to wearing black for decades. Much of England mourned with her, prompting a rise in the popularity of black clothing and jewelry. At first, black buttons were made out of jet, a fossilized coal found near Whitby, England. But jet was very expensive, so black glass was used as a replacement. Some black glass buttons were molded to create reliefs of plants and animals, or even detailed pictorials. Sometimes the buttons appeared to mimic fabrics; other times they were given a silver or iridescent luster to imitate needlework or crochet. Some black glass buttons were faceted while others were painted or enameled.
Another collectible type of glass button hails from Bohemia, which is now part of the Czech Republic. Between the wars, glass artisans made buttons in styles ranging from Art Deco to "realistics," which were buttons shaped like the objects they depicted
From the late 1800s through the 1920s, celluloid buttons were all the rage. Then came the Bakelite buttons, which were common in the United States from the 1920s through the 1940s. Bakelite buttons were sometimes carved and then embellished with a metal escutcheon in the shape of an animal or a plant. Others were decorated with glass sequins or costume jewels. The so-called "cookie" buttons were made out of long sections of laminated Bakelite that were then sliced into wafers, each one of which revealed a cross section of the lamination. Other types of Bakelite buttons were reverse carved and then dyed or painted from the back.
Of course, these types of buttons just begin to scratch the rich surface of this tiny collectible. Some collectors specialize in buttons in the Art Deco style, while others like the more modern look of Lucite or buttons cut out of shell. Still others collect based on themes—cats, dragons, Oriental imagery, famous men and women, etc.
Particularly noteworthy are the enamel buttons from the 19th and 20th centuries. Cloisonné buttons were the most difficult to produce because the process demanded that tiny threads of wire be soldered to a base. The resulting cavities were then filled with enamel and the button was fired.
We have a good selection of above mentioned buttons at way below going rates--an example would be that most of the victorian brass buttons sell in the $25.00each to $100.00each range on ebay and other sites. We purchased ours at a reasonable rate and want to pass the huge bargains on. Come see for yourself---- all the photos are just some of what we have available.
Saturday, September 3, 2011
Vintage European grain sacks & American burlap produce bags. The new in thing in home-decorating.
Fabric sacks, like the kind traditionally used by European farmers up until the middle of the last century for carting grains to and from the mill, can be spotted all over the home this fall.
On pillows. On tables. On lampshades.
The two looks emerging include striped linen and printed burlap.
Historically, linen grain sacks were produced on the farm.
Family farmers would set aside land for growing hemp or flax. They would harvest it, soak it to loosen the fibers, clean and spin the fibers into thread and then weave the fabric (because in those times durable fabric was not readily available). From the rolls of fabric different textiles were created, including utilitarian grain sacks. The grain sacks were used for the harvesting of whatever they were growing.
They were really a kind of a workhorse. Imagine when the farmers were harvesting their wheat, they would put the whole wheat into the bag and bring it to the miller, and when the miller had ground their wheat ... the sack was returned to the rightful farmer. Grain sacks stopped being made around the 1930s.
The other popular style is made of machine-woven burlap, a coarse, twine-smelling sack printed with the logo and name of a farm, co-op or mill. Today, the front printed panels of burlap sacks are sought after for use in upholstery, decorative pillows, headboard covers, rugs, framing or displaying under a glass tabletop. It's really easy to layer burlap, linen and chunky cable knits to add a touch of Country style.
While these original textiles continue to be discovered in people's attics and basements, a number of reproductions have come onto the market. They can be found at Pottery Barn,Target,etc and VERY HIGH PRICED. (Example: pillow Pottery Barn $80.00---ooh-eeee)
To purists drawn to grain sacks for their history and beauty, there's no comparison to the real thing: the handwoven quality, from dense to a medium open weave, and texture, from velvet-soft to coarse.
Another idea is to mix or use cutter quilt pieces. This picture shows a mix of seed sacks and quilt. By the way "cutter" quilts are those that have problems like tears, stains and holes. Or how about quilt tops that are unfinished? This chair is normally on a roofed porch but photographs good in the yard.
We currently do not have any European grain sacks but we do have some good American burlap bags and quilt tops. The photos below show some of what we do currently have.
Sunday, August 28, 2011
The Sand Man---Andrew Clemens
A 1970s fad and, more recently, an elementary school craft, sand bottles were a real, bona fide art form in the hands of Andrew Clemens, a deaf mute working in 19th-century Iowa.
Rivaling the realism of Victorian painting and lithography, Clemens’ remaining bottles garner thousands of dollars at auction today.
Working without glue, using naturally colored sand from Iowa’s Pictured Rocks region and tools of his own making, Clemens fashioned detailed images of (among others) George Washington, Old Glory, eagles, Native Americans, ships in full sail, steamboats, and flowers — often combining them with beautifully lettered names, dates, and greetings.
Using sand for decoration, however, was not his invention. A technique called marmotinto was employed in eighteenth century Britain to create temporary banquet table pictures for King George III, not to mention for hundreds of years previous by Tibetan monks making elaborate sand mandalas.
By the 1840s the making of permanent sand pictures had become a parlor craft among middle class women. Depicting cottages, cliffs, or churches, they were created by sifting sand — especially naturally colored sand from the Isle of Wight — over glue-covered boards.
These pictures were often made as mementoes of trips to the seaside. Those tourists who didn’t create seaside souvenirs often bought them, including artistically filled bottles of sand.
Sand bottles made by Choctaw and Sioux Indians a decade after the craft fad had run its course in the East, when examples made their way West. Using variegated sand, which they arranged in designs resembling their textiles, these Native Americans sold the bottles as souvenirs.
Soon settlers in the Dakotas, Oklahoma, western Illinois, and Iowa — especially members of the “cracker barrel clubs” that met in grocery stores, shut-ins, and the handicapped — began to imitate the Indians’ bottles. It’s not surprising, then, that an early Clemens bottle design read: “Filled By A. Clemens A Deaf Mute of McGregor, Iowa.”
Born in 1857, Andrew Clemens was the third son of German immigrants who settled in McGregor, Iowa, then a thriving transportation hub. At five, Andrew contracted the encephalitis which left him deaf and, eventually, speech-impaired. For six years, Clemens studied at the Iowa Institute for the Education of the Deaf and Dumb. It was on family trips to the Pictured Rocks region, a mile south of McGregor, that he discovered the sand that was to become the basis of his future fame.
Pictured Rocks sand is colored by the iron oxide in water dripping onto it from the limestone above. Shades range from pale pink to deep red, every shade of grey between white and black, as well as green, blue, and earth tones. Andrew Clemens would use 42 different colors of sand in his bottles. Twice a year, he and his brothers spent two or three days at Pictured Rocks, collecting sand in bags sewn by their mother.
Soon mail orders arrived, even from overseas — and Clemens moved from the grocery into his parents’ home, setting up in business for himself in their front room. There, probably for the light, he worked by the window — attracting the attention not only of McGregor’s townsfolk, but also of European tourists and local schoolchildren who tried, with limited success, to imitate him.
By then, his bottles had evolved past his early geometric designs into the complex motifs for which he became well known, with different pictures on the fronts and backs. Clemens only worked from a picture or model when he worked on commission — as with a bottle depicting the pontoon railway bridge at Prairie du Chien or one showing an early engine of the Chicago, Milwaukee, St. Paul & Pacific Railway. He often reproduced a patron’s new home or commemorated a holiday or personal celebration.
For a short time, he even worked in a “dime museum,” earning $25 a week. Chicago’s South Side Museum, however, was more carnival sideshow than art gallery. A barker would break every bottle Clemens made — as soon as he made it — to prove the veracity of his “glueless” method.
Asked to participate in Chicago’s 1893 Columbian Exposition, Clemens declined for health reasons — the tuberculosis which caused his death, at 37, the following year.
Clemens began his bottles by rubbing the sand dry with the bowl of a spoon, creating teeny, uniform grains. His tool kit consisted of seven implements he had fashioned from green hickory. A tiny scoop, holding one-quarter teaspoon of sand and attached to a 9? hickory stick, introduced the sand into a bottle. To do the actual “painting” and to keep his pictures straight, Clemens manipulated two other 9? rods — one sharpened to a point, one ending in a hook.
As if to complicate an already delicate task, Clemens had to “paint” upside-down because of his bottles’ openings. He used four packers, the longest measuring a foot, to press the sand down tightly. A stopper overlaid with wax sealed the finished bottle which bore a round label on its bottom reading: “Pictured Rock Sand Put Up By A. Clemens Deaf Mute McGregor, Iowa.”
Depending on the complexity of its design, a single bottle could take as little as three weeks or as long as three months to complete. A truly complicated pattern occasionally required a year, not that surprising given the detail Clemens achieved, whether in a breaking wave or blade of grass.
Many consider Clemens’ greatest work to be the 12-inch bottle with George Washington (on horseback) on one side, the Great Seal of Iowa on the other. The seal side also proclaims the state motto, “Our Liberties we prize and Our Rights we will maintain.”
For small bottles, Clemens charged $1. A pint-sized bottle with a more elaborate motif cost $5. A large bottle with lettering and fancy designs, however, could set a customer back $8, a lot of money at that time. McGregor’s children often asked $1 for their bottles but were delighted to get a dime.
Clemens made hundreds of bottles in his lifetime, but only a few dozen survive. Most recently, a Clemens bottle with a sailing ship on one side, “E.F. Parkhurst, Sheldon, Iowa 1887” on the other, sold for $12,075, while a bottle with a steamship/eagle and flag sides realized twice that. Although the auction house that sold “C. & R. Cox to Cora Sept 20, 1883,” prefers to protect the amount of the buyer’s successful bid, it too acknowledges that Clemens bottles can sell for as much as $20,000 each.
Rivaling the realism of Victorian painting and lithography, Clemens’ remaining bottles garner thousands of dollars at auction today.
Working without glue, using naturally colored sand from Iowa’s Pictured Rocks region and tools of his own making, Clemens fashioned detailed images of (among others) George Washington, Old Glory, eagles, Native Americans, ships in full sail, steamboats, and flowers — often combining them with beautifully lettered names, dates, and greetings.
Using sand for decoration, however, was not his invention. A technique called marmotinto was employed in eighteenth century Britain to create temporary banquet table pictures for King George III, not to mention for hundreds of years previous by Tibetan monks making elaborate sand mandalas.
By the 1840s the making of permanent sand pictures had become a parlor craft among middle class women. Depicting cottages, cliffs, or churches, they were created by sifting sand — especially naturally colored sand from the Isle of Wight — over glue-covered boards.
These pictures were often made as mementoes of trips to the seaside. Those tourists who didn’t create seaside souvenirs often bought them, including artistically filled bottles of sand.
Sand bottles made by Choctaw and Sioux Indians a decade after the craft fad had run its course in the East, when examples made their way West. Using variegated sand, which they arranged in designs resembling their textiles, these Native Americans sold the bottles as souvenirs.
Soon settlers in the Dakotas, Oklahoma, western Illinois, and Iowa — especially members of the “cracker barrel clubs” that met in grocery stores, shut-ins, and the handicapped — began to imitate the Indians’ bottles. It’s not surprising, then, that an early Clemens bottle design read: “Filled By A. Clemens A Deaf Mute of McGregor, Iowa.”
Born in 1857, Andrew Clemens was the third son of German immigrants who settled in McGregor, Iowa, then a thriving transportation hub. At five, Andrew contracted the encephalitis which left him deaf and, eventually, speech-impaired. For six years, Clemens studied at the Iowa Institute for the Education of the Deaf and Dumb. It was on family trips to the Pictured Rocks region, a mile south of McGregor, that he discovered the sand that was to become the basis of his future fame.
Pictured Rocks sand is colored by the iron oxide in water dripping onto it from the limestone above. Shades range from pale pink to deep red, every shade of grey between white and black, as well as green, blue, and earth tones. Andrew Clemens would use 42 different colors of sand in his bottles. Twice a year, he and his brothers spent two or three days at Pictured Rocks, collecting sand in bags sewn by their mother.
Soon mail orders arrived, even from overseas — and Clemens moved from the grocery into his parents’ home, setting up in business for himself in their front room. There, probably for the light, he worked by the window — attracting the attention not only of McGregor’s townsfolk, but also of European tourists and local schoolchildren who tried, with limited success, to imitate him.
By then, his bottles had evolved past his early geometric designs into the complex motifs for which he became well known, with different pictures on the fronts and backs. Clemens only worked from a picture or model when he worked on commission — as with a bottle depicting the pontoon railway bridge at Prairie du Chien or one showing an early engine of the Chicago, Milwaukee, St. Paul & Pacific Railway. He often reproduced a patron’s new home or commemorated a holiday or personal celebration.
For a short time, he even worked in a “dime museum,” earning $25 a week. Chicago’s South Side Museum, however, was more carnival sideshow than art gallery. A barker would break every bottle Clemens made — as soon as he made it — to prove the veracity of his “glueless” method.
Asked to participate in Chicago’s 1893 Columbian Exposition, Clemens declined for health reasons — the tuberculosis which caused his death, at 37, the following year.
Clemens began his bottles by rubbing the sand dry with the bowl of a spoon, creating teeny, uniform grains. His tool kit consisted of seven implements he had fashioned from green hickory. A tiny scoop, holding one-quarter teaspoon of sand and attached to a 9? hickory stick, introduced the sand into a bottle. To do the actual “painting” and to keep his pictures straight, Clemens manipulated two other 9? rods — one sharpened to a point, one ending in a hook.
As if to complicate an already delicate task, Clemens had to “paint” upside-down because of his bottles’ openings. He used four packers, the longest measuring a foot, to press the sand down tightly. A stopper overlaid with wax sealed the finished bottle which bore a round label on its bottom reading: “Pictured Rock Sand Put Up By A. Clemens Deaf Mute McGregor, Iowa.”
Depending on the complexity of its design, a single bottle could take as little as three weeks or as long as three months to complete. A truly complicated pattern occasionally required a year, not that surprising given the detail Clemens achieved, whether in a breaking wave or blade of grass.
Many consider Clemens’ greatest work to be the 12-inch bottle with George Washington (on horseback) on one side, the Great Seal of Iowa on the other. The seal side also proclaims the state motto, “Our Liberties we prize and Our Rights we will maintain.”
For small bottles, Clemens charged $1. A pint-sized bottle with a more elaborate motif cost $5. A large bottle with lettering and fancy designs, however, could set a customer back $8, a lot of money at that time. McGregor’s children often asked $1 for their bottles but were delighted to get a dime.
Clemens made hundreds of bottles in his lifetime, but only a few dozen survive. Most recently, a Clemens bottle with a sailing ship on one side, “E.F. Parkhurst, Sheldon, Iowa 1887” on the other, sold for $12,075, while a bottle with a steamship/eagle and flag sides realized twice that. Although the auction house that sold “C. & R. Cox to Cora Sept 20, 1883,” prefers to protect the amount of the buyer’s successful bid, it too acknowledges that Clemens bottles can sell for as much as $20,000 each.
Sunday, August 21, 2011
Tiny Plastic Toys--Cracker Jack
Although the Cracker Jack prizes were the smallest toys a child could play with, they were fun and made you use your imagination. I loved to eat Cracker Jack's but I couldn't wait to get to the prize inside. I kept a box full of them as a child, but they have been long ago lost or thrown out. Recently I found a tin full of them. Good memories, I couldn't help but smile inside and out. I dumped them out and began to sift thru the little treasures.
Some of the prizes I found were: animals, spinning tops, whistles, tools, key rings, sports figures, circus people, a trophy, and others. Some of the prizes were the kind that needed to be put together. Many of the prizes needed some assembly. Some were as simple as snapping two pieces of plastic together. “Look what I just made.”
About a year ago I had a bracelet made with Cracker Jack toys. It was constructed with a heavy elastic cord and safety pins. Each pin held a different Cracker Jack toy. I put it in the shop for $25.00 and it was gone very quickly. I was sad to see it go, but I could tell the person that bought it was thrilled.
Many Cracker Jack toys have no markings on them at all. Some of the markings are: The C. J. Co; Cracker Jack, C. J. C. O; The Cracker Jack Co, and Cracker Jack SP.
http://members.cox.net/jeepers/archives.html
A good website for Cracker Jack toy archives. Shows photos of toys and their names and meanings. Pretty cool.
Monday, August 15, 2011
Haggling – the dealer’s perspective
I found this article and it is right on so I decided to share.
Haggling over the cost of merchandise is a practice centuries old – a practice alive and well in the antiques market. For buyers, the temptation to ask for a better price is just too strong to deny. For sellers, coming down a bit on the price is often a good way to make a sale. It’s a practice that can benefit both buyers and sellers, but can, at times, be a bother and annoyance.
I understand the anger some dealers have over haggling. Not all customers are polite and some can be downright rude while trying to negotiate a better price. While I hope my columns anger no one, I do not apologize for what I’ve written about haggling. Like it or not, haggling has been a part of commerce for centuries, and it’s here to stay.
I’ve been on both sides of the haggling process. I consider myself primarily a collector, but I do have a retail sales license and have dealt in antiques for many years. I once had an antique shop. I’ve had booths in antique malls. I’ve sold antiques and collectibles on eBay and at traditional auctions. I’ve set up at antique shows and flea markets. I know what it’s like to be a dealer as well as a collector. Having been on both sides of the haggling process gives me insight into what it’s like for both the seller and the buyer.
I like to focus on the positive, but the negative is more instructive. Let me give you the dealer’s perspective by relating some of my less than pleasant experiences with buyers. Buyers can consider this a guide on what not to when seeking a better price.
At a recent flea market, I took some of the stoneware I’ve been culling out of my collection. Among the pieces was an eight gallon jug, circa 1890. I had bought the stoneware pieces long ago and wanted to clear them out, so I priced them very reasonably. The jug had a very small, old chip. In my area, such a jug in that condition is usually found priced at $45-$65. I priced mine at $38. One collector offered me $30 for the jug, nearly 25 percent less than the market price. A discount of 10 to 15 percent is about as much as a buyer can expect. I offered to come down to $35. In a rude tone of voice the collector announced, “Well it’s chipped! It’s not worth that!” She was entitled to her opinion of course, but I didn’t like the rude delivery. Needless to say, we didn’t strike a bargain. The lesson for buyers here is that rudeness will get you nowhere with most dealers.
Another piece I took to the flea market was a nice 1-gallon jar, circa 1900. It was a beautiful piece with a nice ochre glaze. I would generally expect to see such a jar priced at around $25-$35. I knew I’d probably paid about $8 for mine and priced it at $18. If it sold, it would be quite a profit for me and quite a good buy for buyer. A collector asked my best price. I offered her the piece for $15. She countered with $10, nearly 50 percent less than the asking price, which was already significantly below the value of the piece. I wasn’t willing to take less than $15, so there was no sale. In this case, the collector wasn’t rude, but her offer was unrealistic. Collectors shouldn’t expect dealers to give deep discounts. As a dealer, I’m also not fond of the counteroffer. When I’m asked for my best price, I give it. At that point it’s take it or leave it.
As a dealer, I’ve found myself on the receiving end of extreme rudeness from those who use such rudeness as a tactic to get a better price. Let me throw in a quick disclaimer here – the vast majority of collectors are very kind and polite. Remember, we’re exploring the negative side here. Over the years I’ve heard such comments as “That’s twice what that’s worth!” “In that condition, it isn’t worth anything!” “You’ll be lucky to sell that for half what I’m offering!” “It’s obviously a reproduction!” “That’s far too high!” Most often, the comments are made in a rude tone. I’m so accustomed to enjoying my encounters with buyers that the rude individuals are a bit of a shock. I find such comments insulting. I always try to price my items for a bit less than they can be found elsewhere. That way buyers will purchase from me and not the dealer next to me. I’m well aware damage detracts from value, so when a piece is damaged, I price it accordingly. When someone comes along and criticizes my prices or my integrity, I’m not inclined to give them a better deal. Rudeness will get a collector nowhere with me and I’m sure most dealers feel the same.
It costs a lot more to deal in antiques than most collectors realize. I used to set up at a nice flea market in Princeton, Ind., about 15 miles from where I lived at the time. I went there because it was close, spaces were reasonably priced, there were a lot of buyers and sellers, and the flea market was well organized. It cost me $35 for a spot for two days – very reasonable considering some flea markets charge as much as $150. I was also out the expense of gas for three round trips, one to set up, two to sell. That’s 90 miles of driving, not an insignificant cost with high gas prices. There was also my time to consider and all the work. It takes me several hours to unpack all my collectibles for a flea market and just about as long to pack them up at the end. Then there’s the work I did at home, cleaning, pricing, and packing – days worth! If you’ve never set up at a flea market, take the amount of work you think it takes a dealer to set up, multiply it by 10, and you’ll have it about right. Add to this the time and cost of gathering pieces to sell and you’re looking at a lot of time and expense. I think it becomes understandable then, that dealers are not pleased by rudeness or ridiculously low offers.
There’s nothing wrong with haggling for a better price. As a buyer, I often haggle. As a seller, I accept it. It’s a great way for buyer and seller to come together, but it’s not a pleasant experience when one party or the other gets rude. Don’t hesitate to haggle, but avoid the mistakes made in the examples above. If you do your chances of success will be much increased.
Haggling over the cost of merchandise is a practice centuries old – a practice alive and well in the antiques market. For buyers, the temptation to ask for a better price is just too strong to deny. For sellers, coming down a bit on the price is often a good way to make a sale. It’s a practice that can benefit both buyers and sellers, but can, at times, be a bother and annoyance.
I understand the anger some dealers have over haggling. Not all customers are polite and some can be downright rude while trying to negotiate a better price. While I hope my columns anger no one, I do not apologize for what I’ve written about haggling. Like it or not, haggling has been a part of commerce for centuries, and it’s here to stay.
I’ve been on both sides of the haggling process. I consider myself primarily a collector, but I do have a retail sales license and have dealt in antiques for many years. I once had an antique shop. I’ve had booths in antique malls. I’ve sold antiques and collectibles on eBay and at traditional auctions. I’ve set up at antique shows and flea markets. I know what it’s like to be a dealer as well as a collector. Having been on both sides of the haggling process gives me insight into what it’s like for both the seller and the buyer.
I like to focus on the positive, but the negative is more instructive. Let me give you the dealer’s perspective by relating some of my less than pleasant experiences with buyers. Buyers can consider this a guide on what not to when seeking a better price.
At a recent flea market, I took some of the stoneware I’ve been culling out of my collection. Among the pieces was an eight gallon jug, circa 1890. I had bought the stoneware pieces long ago and wanted to clear them out, so I priced them very reasonably. The jug had a very small, old chip. In my area, such a jug in that condition is usually found priced at $45-$65. I priced mine at $38. One collector offered me $30 for the jug, nearly 25 percent less than the market price. A discount of 10 to 15 percent is about as much as a buyer can expect. I offered to come down to $35. In a rude tone of voice the collector announced, “Well it’s chipped! It’s not worth that!” She was entitled to her opinion of course, but I didn’t like the rude delivery. Needless to say, we didn’t strike a bargain. The lesson for buyers here is that rudeness will get you nowhere with most dealers.
Another piece I took to the flea market was a nice 1-gallon jar, circa 1900. It was a beautiful piece with a nice ochre glaze. I would generally expect to see such a jar priced at around $25-$35. I knew I’d probably paid about $8 for mine and priced it at $18. If it sold, it would be quite a profit for me and quite a good buy for buyer. A collector asked my best price. I offered her the piece for $15. She countered with $10, nearly 50 percent less than the asking price, which was already significantly below the value of the piece. I wasn’t willing to take less than $15, so there was no sale. In this case, the collector wasn’t rude, but her offer was unrealistic. Collectors shouldn’t expect dealers to give deep discounts. As a dealer, I’m also not fond of the counteroffer. When I’m asked for my best price, I give it. At that point it’s take it or leave it.
As a dealer, I’ve found myself on the receiving end of extreme rudeness from those who use such rudeness as a tactic to get a better price. Let me throw in a quick disclaimer here – the vast majority of collectors are very kind and polite. Remember, we’re exploring the negative side here. Over the years I’ve heard such comments as “That’s twice what that’s worth!” “In that condition, it isn’t worth anything!” “You’ll be lucky to sell that for half what I’m offering!” “It’s obviously a reproduction!” “That’s far too high!” Most often, the comments are made in a rude tone. I’m so accustomed to enjoying my encounters with buyers that the rude individuals are a bit of a shock. I find such comments insulting. I always try to price my items for a bit less than they can be found elsewhere. That way buyers will purchase from me and not the dealer next to me. I’m well aware damage detracts from value, so when a piece is damaged, I price it accordingly. When someone comes along and criticizes my prices or my integrity, I’m not inclined to give them a better deal. Rudeness will get a collector nowhere with me and I’m sure most dealers feel the same.
It costs a lot more to deal in antiques than most collectors realize. I used to set up at a nice flea market in Princeton, Ind., about 15 miles from where I lived at the time. I went there because it was close, spaces were reasonably priced, there were a lot of buyers and sellers, and the flea market was well organized. It cost me $35 for a spot for two days – very reasonable considering some flea markets charge as much as $150. I was also out the expense of gas for three round trips, one to set up, two to sell. That’s 90 miles of driving, not an insignificant cost with high gas prices. There was also my time to consider and all the work. It takes me several hours to unpack all my collectibles for a flea market and just about as long to pack them up at the end. Then there’s the work I did at home, cleaning, pricing, and packing – days worth! If you’ve never set up at a flea market, take the amount of work you think it takes a dealer to set up, multiply it by 10, and you’ll have it about right. Add to this the time and cost of gathering pieces to sell and you’re looking at a lot of time and expense. I think it becomes understandable then, that dealers are not pleased by rudeness or ridiculously low offers.
There’s nothing wrong with haggling for a better price. As a buyer, I often haggle. As a seller, I accept it. It’s a great way for buyer and seller to come together, but it’s not a pleasant experience when one party or the other gets rude. Don’t hesitate to haggle, but avoid the mistakes made in the examples above. If you do your chances of success will be much increased.
Monday, August 8, 2011
The collecting conundrum
by Art Elder
Have you ever wondered why collectors collect? The mystery has been studied by scholars through the years trying to answer this conundrum. Why collectors collect what they do is another fascinating topic.
It has been said that, as the human form developed, there were first hunters, then gatherers, followed by collectors. Almost everyone collects something – but why? One only needs to watch children to see they will pick up and put in their pockets just about anything they find that is bright and colorful. Perhaps that proves that in spite of our numerical age, all collectors are still just kids at heart. Or – possibly there is a hidden collecting gene in all of us that the researchers have not yet discovered! But wait – maybe it is just the basic survivalist instinct in all humans (and many other animals) to save for the hard times in the future. Perhaps it is merely the thrill of the hunt. Some ask if collecting can result from a medical condition or an addiction. After all, psychoanalyst Sigmund Freud once said that his collecting was an addiction, rivaled only by his craving for nicotine!
Collecting is usually pursued as an interesting hobby, although occasionally, some collectors are known to become obsessed. The majority of collectors ascribe the incentives and stimuli they receive from collecting to one or more of the following:
• The knowledge gained by learning about the items they collect.
• The networking with fellow collectors.
• The pleasure that they derive from finding and acquiring a new and much sought after object that fills a gap in their collection.
• Memories and recollections – particularly the fond memories of childhood – may frequently determine what a collector chooses to collect.
• Sometimes the collected item may have nothing to do with the collector’s childhood, but rather something that is discovered later in life, and is found to be particularly interesting to the collector. An example might be Civil War memorabilia.
Here are the views of three frequently quoted experts:
Marjorie Akin, an anthropologist at the University of California, Riverside, has studied the subject of collecting and wrote in her book, Passionate Possession, the Formation of Private Collections that people collect for a connection to the past and memories. Akin wrote, “Objects can connect the collector to the historic, valued past.”
Akin also includes four other reasons why people collect. The first is to satisfy a sense of personal aesthetics. Secondly, to please personal tastes. Third, to show individualism. Akin concludes the fourth reason is the collector’s need to be complete, and the sense of completion is one of the main drivers of collectors. She adds that collectors may choose a subject to collect because of the challenge there is to complete the collection. Akin said she has seen people cry out in relief once they find the final piece and their collection is complete.
Kim A. Herzinger, a Professor of English at the University of Southern Mississippi, and an award-winning author and avid collector, provides another twist on obsession with collecting. He wrote, “Collecting is a means by which one relieves a basic sense of incompletion brought on by unfulfilled childhood needs. It functions as a form of wish fulfillment, which eases deep-rooted uncertainties and existential dread.”
Herzinger adds that collecting may also become a passion. “Collecting, like most passions, has the capacity to let (the collector) live in another world for awhile. If I could tell you why passion allows us to inhabit another world, I would stop collecting.”
He adds that the collector becomes engaged in a kind of worship. “The collector is experiencing the kind of sensory transcendence that we most closely associate with religion or love. Like religion or love, the collection is a kind of security against uncertainty and loss.”
However, if these reasons seem too implausible or complex, then Kurt Kuersteiner, offers one refreshingly simple reason. In his published article, “Collecting Collections,” Kuersteiner wrote, “I believe the main reason people collect something is a basic interest in the topic.”
Walter Annenberg, former publisher, philanthropist, and ambassador to the United Kingdom said simply, “If it moves me, that was enough. Being moved is what collecting is all about.”
In reality, there are probably as many different reasons as there are collectors. Collectors are individuals. The debate over the reasons will go on and on, but the one truth that cannot be denied is that people will continue, whatever the reason, and they will continue to collect the items that interest them – whatever that may be.
It is reported that Albert Einstein once said, “Not everything that counts can be counted, and not everything that can be counted, counts.”
What Einstein meant in this fascinating quote can be interpreted differently. I prefer it to mean that, for a collector, what is important should be the personal attraction to the collection, and not its size or value. The enjoyment of the collecting process is what really counts.
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