Dots and Vines

Yes, I’ve been sewing in this safe-at-home time.  I’ve been busy finishing old abandoned projects as well as exploring new ones.

One of the new things I’ve done is this piece I called Dots and Vines.  Inspired by my grandmother’s quilt on this table in our den, I assembled many many circles appliqued on squares.  

Ollie Jane’s quilt lives on this table most of the year and I continually look at it and think, what a powerful design.  I ought to recreate it.  Finally, I did.

Though it doesn’t look much like her work (nor much like mine, for that matter – it’s rather modern, don’t you think?),  it’s another example of stitching that reflects the love of cloth through generations; a tale that never grows old.

I chose to use Cherrywood handdyed fabrics.  The circles are 1” in diameter, the squares finish at 3”.  I spent many morning hours on the porch stitching these, and many more hours doing the same at night in front of the tv.  Many hours of delicious time thinking and soothing the soul while pulling a threaded needle through cloth.  

There were days when the finished blocks danced all around my design wall, trying to find the right arrangement of color.  Here you see them with several fabrics I considered using as borders.

But the final arrangement has no border.  A nice stripe from Kaffe Fassett’s collection as binding seemed to bring enough closure.

I knew the entire time that I wanted to quilt a meandering vine from variegated thread, so that’s the rest of the title, Dots and Vines, a bit of homage to a book I came to love in college math classes, The Dot and the Line.  I considered August 12, 2020  as its title – that’s the day I finished the quilt and it just happened to be the 225th day of this calendar year.  But that title requires too much explanation in casual conversation, so Dots and Vines it is.

I made many more circle blocks that are waiting another use.  But the 225 that I chose means I have a 45” square finished piece.  I like that size.  It’s good to drape over a chair, take along on a photo ride-about, or use as a table topper.

I continue to stay busy with a variety of things, including nature photography.  But most things are connected to fiber in some way.  Don’t you think it would be interesting to make a textile version of these mushrooms?  I see red thread here.

More about my grandmother’s quilts can be found here and here. Enter “Ollie Jane” in the search box for even more.

Lockdown Learning

Friends I encounter many days on my morning walks.

During the five months that we’ve been staying at home, I’ve had time to explore new things.  

A zebra longwing in our front yard.

I’ve used my camera a lot, learning more about it, and even adding to the equipment inventory.  When we first learned that we were elderly and in the high risk group for Covid-19, I started sendng a morning photo greeting to our girls via text message.  Just a pretty way to say to them, “the old folks are fine,” so they could get on with their day without worrying about us.  I used my phone at first, learning new photo and editing capabilities.  

Then there were things the phone didn’t capture as well as I wanted, so I pulled out the digital mirrorless camera and learned more about it.  

We have several rabbits in our yard this year. So far, we’ve only SEEN them eating grass, but a few other plants have been mysteriously pruned.

When I needed a faster lens, or more “reach” for some of my subjects, I needed a better zoom lens.  

A woodland sunflower captured on a visit to Piedmont National Wildlife Refuge.

Looking through the lens of a camera changes things.  I’m not much of a gardener, but I needed to know the names of the plants I was photographing – because at least one of three recipients of these messages would ask.  And, distractions in the background weren’t good, so I pulled more weeds than I ever have before.  Who knew that such a simple act was so transformative?

A drawstring bag incorporating a bit of vintage embroidery and hand-dyed indigo linen.

Simple things are transformative in the sewing room, too.  I’ve used this time at home to explore more stitching opportunities, too.  I’ve finished several traditonal UFOs (and now I realize I need to photograph those), explored ways to include vintage linens in different projects, and reread many of the quilting books on my shelves.

Exploring more uses of ink on fabric inspired by Pam Holland’s draplique tutorial.

Though I could have done all this at any time, there’s something about not having plans to go anywhere, not having deadlines to meet, that is liberating.  I do miss seeing my quilting friends at guild and I miss teaching classes, but without those obligations, I’m enjoying researching new aspects of my own creativity.

A fabric flower adorns a notebook cover made from vintage linen fabric. I secured all layers using a double seed stitch to add texture. This new-to-me stitch is a fun one I will use again!

Airing the Quilts

The day was sunny and clear – perfect for a big thick quilt to dry on the lawn.  So I gathered some old ones that had been waiting for an outing and draped them on the fence to air.

This pattern is called Chain and Bar, according to Jenny Beyer’s Album of Patchwork Patterns, designed by Clara Stone, published in Practical Needlework, ca. 1906.

These are specimens from Jim’s family.  Two grandmothers made quilts in styles distinctive enough that he and his sister can specify the household from which they came.  But they don’t always know which generation the maker was from.

Most are tattered and need repair before they can be washed.  But what treasures they are, and what stories they tell.

My research tells me this block is a variation of a Cogwheel block. I find a similar block published in 1931. These compass style blocks take on many forms as each “ring” can be combined with portions of other similar blocks.

One grandmother’s quilts are heavier than the other’s. Granny used a thinner cotton batting than Grandmama did.  They may have processed both at home, or one used ginned cotton while the other used some straight from the fields.

Some of the fabrics are delicious and vibrant colors, others have faded to be unrecognizable, still others have disintegrated completely.

I personally love the backs of these old quilts, too.  Homespun cotton on every one – and, interestingly, in many cases that fabric has NOT disintegrated. 

I am in the process of repairing these pieces of history so that they can travel on through the generations.  Sometimes that means more labor intensive work than others, but it’s a joy to join these women’s work with my own stitches.

I am adding a label to each quilt that tells what we know of their history and maker – but the fabrics and stitches tell a story, too.  The rust circles on the back of this one tells me that this quilt lay under a mattress at sometime, against bare bedsprings.

And, the one quilt that was ready to wash is now drying between two layers of cotton sheets on the grass – the bottom sheet to protect it from grass stains, the top sheet to protect it from birds flying over. 

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!”

Staying in Place

I’ve been busy in recent days, but at first it seemed self-serving somehow to share my fun.  You see, I love staying home and creating; so doing that is not much of a sacrifice to me.  But at a time when others are compelled to stay put, whether for their own health or for the common good, and find it stressful, I thought it might be impolite to seem happy about it.

Social media tells me that the ones I know who are getting though this time of uncertainty most peacefully are those who stitch.  That’s not news to me – that stitching soothes the soul.  Others who sew (or knit, or paint, or draw, or build things) know the peace that comes with using your hands.  

One of my favorite haunts is this booth at The Cotton Depot in Monroe, GA

Yes, I do miss going to antique stores and other venues where I get inspiration (and I miss eating the occasional meal without cooking, too). But, since I can’t do those things, I will enjoy the time to do what I can.

So here’s a summary of my recent days.

I first cleaned my sewing closet.  The last big group meeting I attended was March 3 when I gave a program at a nearby quilt guild and taught a Stitch a Story class (techniques for textile collage).  All those samples and supplies had to be put away and the suitcase refreshed for the next class.  That next class has been postponed, but I am prepared.

Preparing for a class like that means pulling out elements from my stash, and I do that with abandon.  So afterwards, the bonus room in our house (my sewing closet, I call it) over the garage, needs a lot of straightening.  I did that with joy.  Re-organizing and neatly placing fabrics and trims is a labor of love.  Discovering forgotten treasures is part of the process.  

I continue working on art quilts, and I’ve added a new passion: fabric flowers.  The techiques and combinations of embellishments make for seemingly infinite possibilities.  I keep a basket of supplies on hand when an idea strikes for a new approach.

I usually like to “do my own thing” these days, but a kit from Maggie Bonanomi was the perfect project for a few nights in front of tv.  The bunny is now ready for gardening at our house.

And, speaking of gardening, Jim and I had created a new path through our woods in the past winter.  Warmer temperatures inspired us to burn collected sticks and debris in evening fires in our firepit.  Every day the walk on the trail leads us to new discoveries – most notably trilliums – on our property.

We delight in “surveying the plantation,” checking to see which plants have leafed out, which are still waiting to be sure frost is gone.  It’s a thrill to see the first bloom on the Spiderwort (Tradescantia), the geranium that was protected all winter showing its color.

Quiet days now are spent reading and sewing.  We watch little tv, but love old westerns.  We watched an old episode of Gunsmoke yesterday where Doc had a couple of cholera patients.  At the end of the episode, we remarked that “they didn’t mention quarantining Miss Kitty or anyone else.”  We probably would not have noticed that in the past.

Tawanda is my outdoor spirit doll. She reminds me to be happy year round – but she is especially right about the garden these days as plants are coming to life (including the indigo).

So I guess you could say my quarantine days are spent in art therapy and dirt therapy.  I hope yours are, too.  And, I hope at the end of this we have all learned something about a kinder and gentler way to live, without so much hustle and bustle.  May we all be safe.

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.