Category: story quilt

The Rebellious Weathergirl

My latest finished quilt is a journal quilt of sorts.  The background squares are color coded to the lowest temperature of a given day, the melon appliquéd on top indicates the high temperature.  My quilt has more than 365 blocks, and they aren’t arranged chronologically, but the quilt still tells my story of 2023.

While I was sewing on the binding, I dropped the quilt to the floor to go get more thread, and I loved how it puddled…where the front and back are visible and melons of two sizes show in the same shot.

I knew from the start that my arrangement of blocks would not be chronological.  I had seen quite a few photos of temperature quilts using various blocks to show the high and low temperatures of the day and with my love of journal quilts, I thought it would be fun to do.  Some people even include stitches to depict rain, snow, wind, but temperatures seemed enough for me.

i decided on appliquéd melons as my quilt block and chose to use a range of Cherrywood hand-dyed solid fabrics already selected by another quilting blogger. I cut 3” squares of fabrics, made a melon template that fit within that 3”, and was ready to sew.

Each day in 2023, I checked the previous day’s temperature data, recorded the figures on my spreadsheet, pulled the fabrics from my dedicated stash, and appliquéd a melon.  On days when we were away from home, I recorded the temperatures for Macon and for our physical location, stitching the blocks when I returned home. 

Early in 2024, I assembled the blocks on the design wall in monthly arrays, and made photos.  I also assembled two chronological arrays using 365 blocks; one for the temperatures at home, one for the temperatures in whatever location we had been.  With trips to Scotland, Colorado, and Louisiana, there were visible differences in those two arrangements.

Here I’m removing days from the Macon arrangement and replacing them with our travel days.
This is the final layout I assembled…reminding me of the Dots and Vines quilt I made similarly with circles.
I used a variegated thread to stitch it all together with a meandering quilting line.

I uploaded those two photos to Spoonflower (an online digital printing service) and had each one printed on ½ yard of cotton fabric.  I was then free to arrange the 400 blocks in a more pleasing arrangement than the calendar provided.  So I spent a few days moving blocks and looking, moving again, and finally settling on an arrangement that pleased me.  

The image on the top left shows chronological temperatures in Macon, GA 2023, the image on the right shows temperatures wherever we were.

The back of the quilt holds records of the two chronological layouts, and a strip that shows the temperature range assigned to each color.  The label is a vintage doily overdyed with indigo dye and the title, The Rebellious Weathergirl, acknowledges the fact that I knowingly broke the rules of temperature quilting.  The quilt measures 50” square and is finished with a ⅜” plaid binding.

Photos Tell Stories

I love to find old photos of people I don’t know.  Pictures tell stories, and y’all know I love stories.

One of my story quilts, Sprinster Sisters, stitched and embellished.

I’m preparing a presentation for my quilt guild on techniques used in textile collage.  One of my methods is to print photos on fabric, stitch a collage, then write a story to accompany it.

In getting ready for this part of my class, I went through my collection of photos picked up at garage sales and antique stores, and my imagination took off!

A “bad” photo…double exposure and such, but, man, can’t you tell this child is happy to be in her arms?

In my fabric collages, if I use photos of people I know, I feel obliged to stick to the truth.  I’m careful not to use an image without permission, and I strive to get the facts.  Those efforts take time.  If the photo tells a great story, or conveys a special memory, it’s worth it.

But, I do love to use a photo of unknown persons and tell my imaginative story. In those cases, the story evolves as I stitch this person, and it’s pure fun-writing fiction is a blast!

The photos I’m sharing here instantly brought adventures to mind…I can’t wait to print them and play with them.  One in particular is mind-boggling.  

It’s this family of four – printed as an 8” x 10” and mounted on a backer-board.  I saw it in an antique store over several visits, and finally couldn’t resist it.  The reason I was so intrigued is that the woman looks to be strange.  I know what I thought…but only verbalized it to Jim…he knows I have some off the wall ideas and wouldn’t think I had “lost it”.  

Some sewing friends came to visit, saw this in my sewing room, and one gal exclaimed, “That woman is DEAD!.”  “That’s what I thought,” I replied.  My friend went on to educate me about the Victorian era custom of taking a family photo ‘one last time’ after someone had died.  I then began to read about it and learned, that, indeed, it was a relatively common practice.

So, what do you think?  I think this might be the case … and my imagination goes so many places… about the physical limitations the corpse would present to the photographer.  And, the expression on the face of the little girl on the right tells me she may be traumatized for a long, long time.

Note: Some of the old photos I’ve shared here are not always of the highest resolution – but the quality is good enough to print on fabric, then paint and embellish – and that’s my process.

And the bride at the top? Don’t you think she has a story to tell? I’ve actually written the story…waiting to share it with you once I had it printed on cloth…gotta get busy.

First Date

Their first date was at a church gathering for an all-day-sing. 

They grew up in the same county, attended the same high school, but it was a long commute between their homes. Twelve miles represented a fortune in time and money – in the early 1930’s, times were tough.

So they wrote to each other.  And one heard about a sing that was going to be at High Hill Church, in a far corner of the county – some ten more miles from each of their homes.  But families took Sundays off and went to such gatherings.  They planned to meet up at the sing, and the courtship became official.

They married a couple of years after that sing and went on to live and prosper in that same county…the “til’ death” part lasted 52 years, all spent in Turner County.  Prosperity didn’t come quickly – there were hard times on the farm – but happiness and contentment flourished.  My sister and I benefited from two loving parents.

This art quilt I call First Date tells a story of their lives in Turner County and includes evidence of many memories.

I found a map of Turner County printed in the 1930’s in an antique store and transferred it to fabric.  The colors in it and in the photos of my parents from that era dictated the whole piece.  (And ya’ll know I lean toward browns….)

I made a legend for the map depicting the church where they had their first date with a heart shaped button.  Other beads and french knots show the location of their homes and church home.

I included do-dads from a milliner’s supplies (my mother was one of the last to give up the habit of wearing a hat to church), bits of tatting, lace, buttons.  

There are remnants of one of Daddy’s suits, a bit of lace from one of Mama’s dresses.

A fabric flower is made from barkcloth much like the living room drapes we had when I was a child.

I made this and mounted it on canvas several months ago.  I haven’t shared it before because I’m not quite happy with it on the canvas…I keep looking at it, wondering if it’s best that way.  I may add a frame or may remove it from the canvas and finish it more like a quilt.  But …here it is, as it is.

Update…since writing this post, I found a couple of relevant photos..

A photo of my parents shortly after their marriage in 1935.
A photo of High Hill Church made in the 1930’s shows how the church would have looked on the occasion of that first date. It also reveals how appropriate the name is.  In the flat terrain of Turner County (average elevation 407 feet), High Hill sits at a dizzying 420 feet above sea level.

Garden Dance

Tawanda made an appearance in my last post.  I referred to her as my outdoor spirit doll.   Now she’s an element of an art quilt.  

We’ve been sheltering in place now for several weeks with no antiquing adventures to replenish my stash.  But, oh, how my collection has grown.

Since friends are at home, they’ve been cleaning closets and drawers and I’m reaping the rewards. One day the mailman brought a box from Alabama.  Susan had sent a box of tea towels, doilies, and dresser scarves her grandmother had passed along to her.  She kept the one she and her daughters would use, but sent others to me.  

This hankie’s image looks like the clematis blooming on our fence.

A friend is moving to another city and won’t be taking everything she has acquired over the years. She thought I could use a collection of women’s hankies. Oh, yes, indeed, I can.

This pile of blue from the fabric samples made my heart skip a few beats.

And Helen had a box of discarded drapery and upholstery samples.  Silk, linen, cotton, and wool.  Yes, wool.  I was amazed, too.  Lovely, lightweight, sheer wool.  I can’t wait to see how that behaves in the dye pot.

More drapery samples sorted by color…inspiration for a red quilt, I think.

And Joyce, a new friend who was at the last guild where I lectured has a box waiting for me filled with beautiful linens.  She no longer quilts, having moved on to a new focus in sewing, but has acquired beautiful pieces.  Once Joyce’s friends saw that she could give new life to their linens stored away in hiding, they shared with her.  “More than I can use in my lifetime,” she says.  So she is sharing with me.  Now that’s something to look forward to when this stay home order is lifted – a drive to collect that box!

Garden Dance celebrates Tawanda’s exuberance with Spring and all the treasures I described.  I sketched her image, transferred it to fabric, then collaged bits of embroidery from one of those silk samples I mentioned, vintage crochet, some recycled denim clothing.  A few buttons, and a lot of hand stitching brought it all together.  That pop of color at the top right is a piece of trim I bought in Paducah one year.  It was a dusty bolt of unused drapery trim, stained and hopeless looking – and containing some polyester, I’m sure.  But for some reason it spoke to me; maybe the many, many yards of something for little money.  But it loves new color.  I’ve painted some of it and the bit you see here has taken a dive in the indigo dye pot.

Tawanda is a sculpture made of rebar and cement and she’s nearly 20 years old.  She was one of those purchases that I thought, “I shouldn’t spend this much money on yard art, but I really want to take her home with me.”  She was at a local garden center and I think I saw her dancing there on a couple of visits before I succombed to her charms.

As is often the case, I used an old quilt remnant as the base for this collage. Notice the patch some previous owner had made – I was thrilled that I found a place to include it.

She has brought a smile to my face on countless days over these years and I’ve never regretted that expenditure. It seemed it was time to memorialize her in a quilt.

Her name, Tawanda, comes from the movie Fried Green Tomatoes.  if you are familiar with the characters in that production, you understand.

The quilt finishes at 12″ x 16″. Here you see the label attached to the “front” of the old quilt which is now the backside of Garden Dance. The faded homespun backing is one of my oft-used vintage backgrounds. I wonder if the woman who made this scrappy quilt years and years ago would approve of my use of her work. If she was a Tawanda herself, I think she would say, “You go, girl!”

Cousins

Jane and Susie were not just cousins.  They were first cousins.  They were not just first cousins, they were double-first cousins.  

Their mothers were sisters, their daddies were brothers.  They were two years apart in age, and shared not only all their relatives, more than the average common DNA, but many experiences.  This early photo (about 1940) conveys the closeness they shared.

This photo was taken at the home of their paternal grandparents.  Many family photos were set on this porch, on these steps, actually.  Imagine a Sunday afternoon after church, adults visiting on the porch; maybe other cousins playing in the yard, neighbors dropping by.  These two almost sisters (later, they would have other siblings, but not yet), forging a lifelong bond.

I printed the photo on vintage linen, and added red French knots as buttons on Jane’s dress.  The bow in her hair is a found earring.  

Layering the photo on wool batting before densely quilting the background adds dimension to the girls. The oval “mat” is a vintage linen embroidered placemat layered on commercial quilting fabric. Beneath all this assembly is a layer of thin cotton batting. Shells (repurposed from an old necklace found in a thrift store) were attached using red seed beads to anchor them.  I hand quilted all the layers together using a seed stitch with tatting thread.  This thread is a new discovery for me (found in a bag of sewing supplies from an estate sale).  I’ve never tatted nor made lace, but the size 80 cotton thread created for these crafts is perfect for a lot of the hand stitching I do. 

Note to quilters:  that seed stitch leaves a messy backside, so when I use it, I don’t have the final backing on the quilt.  I attached another layer, the piece with red cross stitch on it, using the invisible baste stitch I learned from Jude Hill.  That’s really a seed stitch, too, with just a dot of thread showing on the top, the longer stitch on the “back” nestled in the batting, not coming through to the other side. 

That backing with red stitching is a section of an old tablecloth.  I found it on an antiquing plunder and was drawn to the cross stitch, of course.  The tablecloth has some stains and had a hole in it – making it less than desirable as a tablecloth.    But I rescued it and put it to work.  It’s very desirable as a component of art quilts!

The final quilt measures 16″ x 23″.

Ben’s Cow

Ben and friends went on a birding adventure.  As is often the case, they ended up in the countryside.  Ben is not a stranger to pastures and their inhabitants, but he was glad he had his camera to take this photo – this cow was not a breed he recognized.

When I saw the photo, I was entranced, too.  Ben gave me permission to play with his image on fabric.  At my request, he sent me a current self portrait to use, too.

When I’m working on art quilts, I try to channel my inner child – to remember that “it’s supposed to be fun.”  I think I nailed it this time!

I printed the photo on fabric and added batting and stitching to give the cow dimension.  I  pieced sky (a bit of some old linen I had overdyed with indigo) and ground fabric.  On a recent antiquing tirp (probably the day Ben was finding the cow) I had found an old pin shaped like a windmill.  So I added a windmill, quilted some clouds, and had an art quilt.

I ended up with a new quilt attached to a bit of an old quilt.  That’s not new for me.  But this time I added pages between those two layers.  This little girl had a blast!

I know a picture is worth a thousand words, but Ben uses words to tell really fun stories; so I thought words were important, too.  The cow’s quote is from Ben.

The piece is layered in more ways than just the physical, which is obvious.  Ben and I first met as math colleagues.  When I needed a back for the cow in pasture layer, the numbers fabric jumped off the shelf and said, “use me!”.  

The outer dimensions of the whole assembly are 14” x 20” .

To read about another cow quilt, check out Government Bird Going for a Ride.  Or Walker’s Pasture.

Papa’s Girls

This photo was taken around 1920, the girls with the man whose name peppered lots of stories.  His daughters called him Papa, one calling that name in the days before her death.  “Papa is waiting for me.”  

In this photo is Papa with two granddaughters; Cleo was born in 1914, Corine in 1916.  Their mother died in 1918, giving birth to their little sister.  Their father was in the Army, then a traveling photographer, so he was not around to parent them.  They lived with this grandfather, spinster aunts, and an invalid grandmother.

The photo is printed on a fragment of vintage linen fabric, layered with wool batting, then collaged with bits of vintage lace, rickrack, beads, ribbons, hand and machine stitching.

The green background is a heavy linen fabric, frayed on the edges.  I try to channel the little girl in me when I’m playing this way.  One of the things I loved to do when I was a child was to pull threads on the edges of linen fabric to make a fringe.  I see I still have that skill.

The heart in the top left is a bit of a silk log cabin quilt that was deteriorated to smitherins.  I’ve used bits of it several times, but this time the edge seemed a bit too raw.  So I couched a twisted black and white cord around the edges.

I layered all of it on a bit of new commercial fabric that looked old to me, then used freemotion quilting in a heart strings design to make the many layers one.

The backing is another commercial fabric that reminds me of a dress my grandmother wore.  The label is becoming my go-to; handwriting on a vintage doily.

I’ve written more about these spinster aunts before:  https://sandygilreath.com/spinster-sisters/

And, did I mention that the older girl is my mother?  Oh, the wonderful Papa stories I’ve heard!  I remember more every time I see his image.

The finished quilt measures 26″ x 16″.

Recess

Purple is not my go-to color.  But a discarded (finished but not framed or pillowed) piece of cross-stitch art came home with me to live a new life.  Purple I didn’t love, but old needlework from unknown hands – I love that!  And the words spoke to me.  “My Day is Complete – I Heard a Child Laugh.”  Well, doesn’t that speak to all of us?

These little girls had been playing on my design wall for months (okay, years), waiting to jump onto some yet unplanned quilt.  The purple girls decided they belonged with the purple words.

I plundered through my stash of vintage linens until I found an old embroidered dresser scarf that was the perfect size for a background.  Layering the girls and wool batting on the dresser scarf, I gave them dimension with dense machine quilting.  Then it was time to play with hand stitches.

My thread stash revealed a skein of hand-dyed embroidery floss in just the same colors as the girls.  So I used two strands of it to secure the edges of the fabric used as the base for the girls.

I appliquéd hearts (these words tugged at my heart strings, you know) from some similar fabrics to the white space, then stitched some hearts with that same floss to distribute the colors throughout the quilt.  A few fun buttons came to play as well.

I added a layer of thin cotton batting beneath the whole piece as well as a remnant of an old linen sheet I had dipped in the indigo dyepot.  Back to the sewing machine for some strings of hearts to glue the layers together.

I love the rolled up quilt stories – maybe there’s a bit of mystery about them.  So I sewed the first phrase on the backside of the piece, enticing the viewer to unroll it.  A big Mother of Pearl button along with a bit of silk ribbon provides a closure of sorts.

The label was part of another rescued dresser do-dad.  It seemed to fit the story unfolding.  These girls loved to play outside in a flower garden.

When I work on art quilts, I tell myself to channel the little girl inside.  This piece certainly did that.  I saw myself with Kaye and Rene and Marcia and Juanita and Margie and Debbie and more running and playing and skipping rope on the grounds of Sycamore Elementary School.  Thus, the title was obvious.

Oh, and the girls?  They are a fragment of my childhood, too.  My mother cut paperdolls from folded bits of paper, catalog pages, and even church bulletins to entertain me.  I tapped those memories one day and these little girls came to life. 

Unrolled, the piece measures 18″ x 34″.

Emma Sue’s Work Basket

Emma Sue Emerson was born in 1930.  No, her parents did not give her that rhythmic name.  She was born Emma Sue Whittle, marrying Bob Emerson at age 20.

Bob and Emma didn’t have any children, but they would have been wonderful parents.  They gave of themselves to nieces and nephews and to the community as a whole.  Emma never worked outside the home much; in those days women weren’t expected to have a career.  Oh, she substituted at the grammar school when they needed her, sold a little Avon, and she sang in the choir at church.

Emma and Bob had seventeen nieces and nephews. Emma spent some time working on items to fill the nieces’ hope chests.  She embroidered linens, tatted edging for pillowcases, made some baby clothes when a new generation came along.

An accident at the canning plant in the early 1970’s left Emma’s right hand with some nerve damage and she could no longer execute the fine stitches needed for some embroidery.  She learned to write with her left hand and didn’t miss a beat with other day-to-day activities.  Those hope chests of the youngest nieces were filled with unadorned sheets and pillowcases (with neat hems done on the sewing machine), and copies of recipes handed down through the years.

An assortment of treasures from Emma Sue’s sewing basket came into my possession and I collaged them together to tell Emma’s story.

A bit of a stained and unfinished dresser scarf, a remnant of barkcloth (from draperies in the 1950’s), some lace, a tab from a linen shirt, and a collection of buttons reveal elements of Emma’s life.  A corner of one of her pocket hankies is held in place by a belt buckle from her sewing basket.  A large hook and eye like those used to fasten coats was included, too.

I wove a base from strips of cotton – some of which were in the basket, others I added from similar fabrics.  I attached it all to a bit of an old grain sack to give it a firm base, then used a quilt remnant to provide a backing and frame.  The dimensions of the finished piece are 16″ x 26″.

I hope the wall hanging will trigger fond memories of Emma Sue when viewed by those who knew her.  I love it when pleasant memories are not packed away in a box.

Safe Haven

I don’t say this often, but this art quilt was all hand stitched.  I almost always attach something by machine, or get a trapunto effect by using dense machine stitching to add dimension.

In this case, the underlying quilt itself was all hand stitched.  But it is not all my hand stitching – some unknown woman made the quilt remnant which is the base of this piece.  She pieced baskets from a rather unattractive orange fabric with a white background.  As I stitch things onto it, I know at least part of it was made from sheets – the thread count is high, making my stitches less than pleasurable.

I overdyed the remnants of this antique store find in the indigo dye pot and now I have green baskets on blue.  Much better color.

This piece got its start when I found escutcheons at Seventh Street Salvage and brought some home.  The composition was started with a thrill, but stalled when I struggled to find a way to attach the heavy piece to the cloth.  After months of staring at it and rejecting first this potential solution, then the next, I just sewed it on.  Who knew it could be so obvious?  Or so simple.

The weight did dictate that some support was needed, so I mounted the piece onto a canvas mat – that involved hand stitching too.  You can examine this photo taken from the back and see that stitching.

The machine was needed to attach the label to the canvas.  That could have been done by hand, but it’s faster and easier by machine – gives my hands a break.  I first remove the needle and presser foot, put the canvas under the needle bar, reattach the needle and presser foot, then stitch free motion to attach the label.  

I combined elements I liked because of the color or the mood they conveyed. The title is obviously linked to the key and the escutcheon, but I like to think of our home as a safe place for the birds and the bees and the flowers, as well as for the humans here.