Neither of them ever married. This photo was taken sometime around 1912. They were 18 and 15 at the time. Within ten years, their mother would be confined to a wheelchair, their older sister would die in childbirth, leaving two young daughters to their care.
The family was rich in acreage, but World War I and the boll weevil meant cash was in short supply, and these two women contributed financially to the household.
The older of the two earned teaching credentials, sometimes living with families in distant communities (ten miles from home) and sending money home. The younger ran the household as the orphaned nieces and younger sister grew up.
They saw women get the right to vote, lived through the Great Depression, and World War II. There were adventures, too: travel with an eccentric millionaire, letters from faraway lands, and a barnstorming adventure. Charles Lindberg did fly in Georgia, was he the pilot?
During WWII, the teacher was offered “script” as her paycheck (a promise for money from the state someday), so she traveled further to work in a naval ordinance plant. The younger worked as a switchboard operator and in so doing, connected many families to news of their beloved ones. She was the first in town to get the word that the war was over, running down the stairs of the downtown office to spread the news.
As they laid their parents to rest and saw their young charges grow up and establish lives of their own, they continued to hold their shares of the land together, hiring others to farm the land while they moved to town. They lived together until the death of the younger from breast cancer at age 49. A few years later, the older would face the same diagnosis, but her treatment would be successful. She would live her life productively until the age of 91.
These women were a big part of my childhood. From them I learned that life is to be lived fully and to be enjoyed on a daily basis. It may be hard to meet responsibilities in front of you, but complaints don’t help; just get the job done with a smile on your face.
Because of them, I am not surprised to read the ‘revelation’ that spinster does not have to be a derogatory term. In the later Middle Ages, the term spinster was first used. Then, it denoted a person who spins yarn and therefore has a marketable skill. Memories of these sisters convey the modern interpretation of” a woman who can live independently and doesn’t need a man to be happy.”
Details of quilt: A vintage photo (circa 1912) of two unmarried sisters was printed on a remnant of a vintage linen tablecloth. Hand-guided, free-motion machine quilting was used to add detail, lace collars and beading were added with hand stitching. The linen background for the photo was attached to a vintage linen log cabin quilt made from silk. A vintage cotton doily was used for the label.
Hand stitching on the piece was completed while demonstrating work at the Georgia National Fair. The quilt finishes at 16” x 20”.
I was recently asked to create an art quilt as a gift for Phyllis. I have never visited her home and don’t know her style. I struggled with the design until I realized that I know one thing Phyllis really likes; art by Mark Allen Ballard.
I printed the image of the coneflower on silk fabric, layered it on wool batting, and added dense free motion quilting with a fine silk thread. Dense stitching around the image packs that portion of the design down, forcing the unstitched areas to puff up as if they are stuffed. Stuffed work, or trapunto, has been done for centuries, especially on wholecloth quilts, to add dimension and interest to quilts.
Once the silk portion was quilted, I added an inner border using a gradated blue fabric, leaving a larger border on the bottom. I wanted to add interest to that space, so I continued Mark’s design by adding stems and leaves stitched with a heavier green thread.
That layer was attached to a vintage cross-stitched quilt. I used 
I have recently enjoyed incorporating pieces of art from unknown stitchers of the past, using vintage quilts and linens. This piece did that and more. I collaborated with Wendy by using her fabric, Jude by using her technique, and Mark by using his drawing. It was especially fun to share the stitching experience with Mark. He was excited about the prospect from the beginning, interested in the progress of the piece, and in reports of Phyllis’ reaction. His agreeing to add his signature to the label makes the gift a special treasure for her.
There’s something iconic about a man in overalls. To me, it means he is unpretentious, hardworking, honest. Someone with whom I would want to spend time in conversation and in hugging.
Maybe all that is why I was so intrigued by the man in this quilted piece. I snapped this street photo the minute I saw him. Since then, I have come to know who he is and have secured permission to use his image in my art. He, like my Daddy, is worthy of long conversations and hugs.
The quilt measures 10” x 18”. The photo is printed on vintage linen fabric, hand painted, then quilted. I used cotton thread, using hand-guided free motion quilting on my domestic machine. It is layered with raw silk, a remnant of denim, and a worn reclaimed quilt fragment. The label is a vintage cocktail napkin. (I found this one with the rooster in an antique store ramble just as I had finished this piece. Perfect!)
A recently purchased linen doily reminded me of a mat for a framed portrait. I didn’t have a photo on fabric that fit, and wanted to stitch something on this marvelous piece of linen with the wide handmade tatting.
As I neared the finish, I hadn’t come up with a title. But my original plan to let the doily serve as an inner mat for a portrait was still on my mind, so Portrait of Red Coneflower was simple enough. One more vintage doily (with a history and stains to prove it) served as the label.
SG: Done. Label attached with seed stitch that just goes through to the batting. Sleeve attached the same way. You aren’t square, close though. (16” x 17″). And you speak “pink”
Saturday night finds me stitching through layers of delight:
I’ve been playing in my indigo vat for the past few days. The pile you see here includes some of the results. I’ve dipped pieces large and small of old vintage sheets, old hankies and napkins, doilies, placemats, purchased commercial fabric, bits of lace, and a cotton Matelasse bedspread.
When first removed from the vat, the cloth appears green. As the dye oxidizes, the blue appears. If a resist is applied to block the dye absorption, interesting patterns can be created.
This third photo shows that I’ve started some projects using this most delightful fabric. I’m loving the work I’ve recently been doing with vintage linen; it’s so deliciously soft to stitch by hand. The photo shows a vintage baby dress appliquéd on linen now ready to embroider and quilt and some squares prepared for piecing. Both pieces use techniques I’ve learned from that amazing artist, 
This photo is one I made a few years ago to use on the invitations to my family reunion. Pictured are a platter and pitcher from the Tea Leaf dinnerware which was my grandmother’s pattern. On the evening of Ollie Jane’s wedding in 1890, her mother hosted a supper for family. She served the meal on those dishes and gave them as a gift to the bride and groom. These two pieces in the photo were later purchases, but I do have one plate left that was on Ollie Jane’s table that night. The large pitcher was one she used and I still use it, too.