Abolitionist Embroidery 2

The last post discussed the imagery in Reed's 19th-century embroidered picture, primarily in the kneeling figure. He also asked about the stars and moon at the top of the piece.

"It occurred to me yesterday that the stars are actually a very common quilt pattern, which I discovered is the 'Ohio Star' pattern, I have since gone on to read about the underground railway quilts, which appears to be widely discredited. I was curious to know if the 'Ohio Star' pattern was commonly used as a symbol of freedom, if these stars do represent the 'Ohio Star' it would at least place this textiles origin in the US. The backwards moon is a mystery and if the stars do represent the 'Ohio Star', then why are there three?"

Eight-pointed stars ARE common quilt patterns, one of the oldest and most popular designs. We see them in quilts from the 1770s and in quilts on design walls today. But rather than the quilt patterns influencing the anonymous embroiderer, we have to assume quilters and embroiderers obtained their imagery from the same traditions.

Eighteenth-century rug

Eight-pointed stars are geometric shorthand that can represent the stars in the skies, flowers, and all manner of natural imagery. They can also represent nothing more than pleasing design. We see them in embroidery, rugs and mosaics going back centuries.

Black work embroidery design

German family record

Embroidery from the U.S.

The North Star did have meaning to the abolitionist movement in the U.S. Fredrick Douglass's newspaper The North Star began publishing in 1847.

The North Star masthead

The artwork in the center pictures a man running towards a bright star in the sky. The symbolism of the name was often discussed in print. Escaping slaves were advised to head for the North Star and freedom in the free states.

The stars in Reed's embroidery may have meant something to the artist, but we should be careful about projecting meaning. Stars are just too common and too universal an idea. The angels with their golden trumpets, on the other hand, remain an easy-to-read symbol.

Pennsylvania German painted tinware

Why three stars? We can imagine that Christian artists considered three a sacred number, relevant to the Trinity. But three is also a balanced composition. Artists throughout history have known how to arrange three objects for effect.

Victorian miniature furniture with three strawberries

Back to the quilt pattern: I looked up the stars in my Encyclopedia of Pieced Quilt Patterns, an index to pattern names and when they were first published. Both star patterns above were published as Ohio Star by Carrie Hall in her 1935 book The Romance of the Patchwork Quilt. I have found no earlier sources than this mid-20th century reference. I have to conclude that 19th-century quiltmakers did not call these stars Ohio Star, so looking for some connection to the underground railroad mythology in Ohio is rather far-fetched.

And what about the moon?

Is it backwards?

Thanks to Reed for sharing the pictures of his treasure. He says he also inherited several American quilts. Lucky guy.



Abolitionist Embroidery

Reed in England wrote with a few questions about an embroidered piece:

"I recently inherited this unusual textile from my mother, and I was trying to find some information on it. My mother collected folk art, and was originally American, although we moved to Britain in the 1970's. I thought she bought this in Britain and always thought it was British (slavery was abolished in 1833 in Britain)....

It occurred to me yesterday that the stars are actually a very common quilt pattern, which I discovered is the 'Ohio Star' pattern, I have since gone on to read about the underground railway quilts, which appears to be widely discredited. I was curious to know if the 'Ohio Star' pattern was commonly used as a symbol of freedom, if these stars do represent the 'Ohio Star' it would at least place this textiles origin in the US. The backwards moon is a mystery and if the stars do represent the 'Ohio Star'. then why are there three? I would be very interested in your thoughts on this subject."

That's a lot of questions to answer, specially for a person who is sitting there gape-mouthed in front of her computer screen. Gape-mouthed and envious. How come I never inherit any 19th-century abolitionist embroidery?

This is going to have to be a two-part blog. We'll deal with the symbolism of the details next time.

The symbolism of the human figure is far more important. The kneeling black man with shackled hands and feet was the popular image of the late-18th and 19th-century abolitionist movements in Britain and America. Also in the logo are the words: "Am I not a man and a brother?"

In 1787 English potterJosiah Wedgwood created a medallion with the image and shipped some to anti-slavery sympathizers in the United States. The idea of a durable, small ceramic logo was brilliant publicity. Copies of the kneeling slave (and a female equivalent) are found on all manner of manufactured goods on both sides of the Atlantic.

Ceramics

Printed material

And handmade items, particularly needlework

Needlecase in the Manchester (England) Gallery of Craft and Design

Detail of a patch in a quilt by Deborah Coates, Pennsylvania

She may have cut the image from a silk handkerchief.

Embroidery from the collection of Colonial Williamsburg 

Sarah Sedgewick's embroidered

 sampler made to celebrate her own freedom

Embroidery in the Wilberforce House
at the Hull City Museum in Britain

Among other similarities to Reed's piece, the words in the Wilberforce embroidery are the same

 Biblical reference: "Thou, God, seest me"

Reed's embroidered picture

Reed's has two additional lines at the top:

"The Negros Prayer"

"Jesus who makest the meanest s"

Using Google Books to search for the lines I found "The Negro's Prayer" in an 1818 American periodical, the Evangelical Guardian and Review.* The poem begins

Jesus, who maks't the meanest soul
An object of thy care.
Attend to what my heart would speak,
Hear a poor Negro's prayer.

The American printing is probably not the first printing of "The Negro's Prayer." It may be British and older than 1818.

The embroiderer who did Reed's piece at the top apparently had high hopes of stitching at least the poem's initial verse, but never finished the first line. We can all relate. 

Needleprint, the excellent embroidery blog, offers a free download of a counted stitch image of the chained slave. Click here: http://needleprint.blogspot.com/2009/05/free-download-quaker-slavery-motif.html
It would be perfect for a little needlecase to commemorate the 150th anniversary of the American Civil War, an event that begins in January.

See more about antislavery imagery at the Colonial Williamsburg website. Click here: http://www.history.org/history/teaching/enewsletter/volume2/february04/iotm.cfm   

* The reference for the poem is the Evangelical Guardian and Review, Volume 2, 1818, New York, page 364. Google Books

Persian Pickles and Shawl Prints

Quilt block with a paisley print on the right,

about 1875

Ask a quilter today to give you a name for a paisley print and she might tell you it’s a Persian Pickle, a name with a supposedly long etymology— but it’s all fiction. The earliest source I found for the name is Sandra Dallas’s 1995 novel The Persian Pickle Club about a quilting group in Kansas during the Great Depression. They took their name from a bolt of paisley fabric.

I did a digital search for the words "Persian Pickle" in the Google books database of print material from the 19th century and found nothing with those two words linked together. Doing a search for references after 1900 found lots of hits but they all had to do with Dallas’s book, which is quite popular.

Here's the only 19th-century reference with the words Persian and Pickle close-by. It's from an 1874 play, called Mont Blanc: A Comedy in Three Acts by Eugène Labiche and Henry Mayhew. The reference seems to have to do with a brand of pickles and how to advertise it.

CHIRPEY," said I to myself when the brilliant idea first flashed upon me, " you're the proud inventor of a delicious new condiment—christened—after a long series of sleepless nights—' THE SHAH'S DELIGHT, or, Persian Persuasive Pickle.' But," said I, " nothing's done now-a-days, Chirpey, without advertising and puffing… Chirpey ! you be off at once and put up a poster of your delicious ' Persuasive Pickles' on the summit of Mont Blanc so that the eyes of Europe may be upon it."…. (he lets the end of the roller drop down over the chair~back, so as to expose to the audience a large coloured placard, representing the SHAH OF PERSIA seated cross-legged devouring pickles, and with the words " THE SHAH'S DELIGHT " printed in large letters underneath it.

That’s the thing about engaging fiction, like The Persian Pickle Club—
it can make you believe it’s all very real.

Wool paisley shawl, machine woven between 1860-1890

Woman in Paisley shawl about 1875

What might a 19th-century quiltmaker call a design in the tear-shaped paisley cone? The manufacturers referred to them as Cashmere prints or shawl prints, after the Cashmere shawls made in India. These hand-woven Kashmiri shawls were reproduced on mecahnical looms in Scotland, particularly in the town of Paisley, which gave its name to the design.

The scrap of fabric above is the document print for the reproduction paisley in my Moda collection called Civil War Homefront. Those little wiggly lines around the "paisley" are supposed to imitate a woven design in a printed cotton. Shawl prints were all the rage about 1860-1890.

Stripes in Civil War Homefront

Every Civil War reproduction collection needs a stripe or two.

Detail of the tintype I use in my banner shows a neat striped dress and tie from the 1860s.

Stripes large and small were popular throughout the 19th century for clothing. The sisters above were probably photographed in the 1870s. The woman below wears the silhouette of the 1860s. Extra stripes were added with appliqued ribbon.

Border prints were a popular style of stripe.

And if you didn't have stripes you could make them yourself.

She must have heard that vertical stripes were figure flattering---but not in this case.

Prussian blue stripe were particularly popular for clothing and quilts right before the Civil War. This striped basket in a striped set is from a quilt dated 1858.

I have two stripes in my Civil War Homefront collection for Moda. The smaller one above is named Pumpkin Seed Button and the larger stripe below is Hickory Hoops.

Deb Rowden made the most of a package of precut Layer Cakes and the Hickory Hoop stripe in dark blue (Ironclad Navy). Her inspiration was a quilt from the Rocky Mountain Quilts website. Click here to see the antique. http://www.rockymountainquilts.com/files/antiquequilt_q8120.php

Spend some time looking at Betsey Telford-Goodwin's quilts. It's a great website for inspiration---and shopping.

Civil War Homefront Precuts, Stripes and Chaos Theory

This pre-Civil-War top was the inspiration for colors and prints in my Civil War Homefront collection for Moda. It had been a comforter cover; was worn into holes; taken apart and then a friend bought it to use some intact patches for repairs. It looks rather pastel in this summer shot in my yard because the light is shining through it. The photo of the good parts below shows the color and the prints better.

It's rather chaotic, a look I love about early quilts where the patchwork pattern and the fabric patterns compete for your eye. I always love a good fight.

You can see it's a four patch set in strips with setting triangles of the large stripes that were so popular for women's dresses in the 1840s and '50s. The strips are offset so the large triangles form a zigzag, which you can hardly notice because the random stripes are screaming, "Look at me!"

I decided to interpret this top when my Civil War Homefront fabric arrived. I took a precut package of 2-1/2" Jellyrolls and gave my friends in my sewing group 2 or 3 strips each and told them, since it was my birthday and I got to choose a project, that I would like them to make as many nine-patches as they could out of the strips and not to worry about contrast.

Then I set the nine-patches with stripes in a fashion similar to the original top.

I thought about setting the strips right next to each other, but decided that on the chaos-to-calm scale I was of a less chaotic frame of mind than the original crazy quilter. I didn't even try to offset them to create a zigzag. That might have hurt.

This was not working. Then I recalled this antique quilt, which I found on an online auction. It had been in the back of my mind and I am glad I had the picture.

Here's a cobbled together shot of the top, which is going to the quilter this week. Five pieced strips, six unpieced paisleys. Blue triangles at the top and bottom.

On the sliding scale of chaos-to-calm it fits me fine. Those randomly cut stripes may be too chaotic for you. You could fussy cut them. I also had trouble sewing them all in the same direction, but that's part of the chaos that appeals to me.

I'm posting a free pattern on my webpage. Click here to see it:

Sorghum Taffy Strip Quilt.

Document & Reproduction: Printed Plaid

Carte-de-visite photo of a young woman from

 Willimantic, Connecticut, in the 1860s

Every Civil War reproduction collection needs at least one printed plaid. Plaids can be woven, that is the warps and wefts are varicolored and produce square checks and plaids. Plaids can also be printed onto plain cotton, a style quite popular in the mid 19th century. Below is one I called Sorghum Taffy from my Moda collection Civil War Homefront.

Left: the document print; right: the reproduction from

Civil War Homefront, both in madder-style shades

Tintype of sisters in matching dresses of probable printed plaid.

The narrow silhouette indicates fashion of about 1870.

Left: madder-style printed plaid from about 1840-1860; right: about 1870-1890

Left: a mid-century printed plaid; right: later in the 19th century.

Printed plaids, although more expensive to produce, offer an advantage over woven plaids. They can be printed on the diagonal, a style impossible with varicolored warps and wefts.

Woven plaid set on the bias in a top from 1840-1860

Woven plaids are hard to date. This 150-year-old plaid could have been bought at a fabric store last week.

Mid-19th-century printed  plaid (with a double pink)

Sometimes the only way to tell a printed plaid from a woven plaid is by examining the frayed edge of a swatch to see if the warps and wefts are dyed in the yarn or printed later. In this case it's hard to tell because the printed dye colored the edge yarns so well. While examining it with a magnifying glass I realized I could turn it over. A woven plaid would be identical on both sides. This is not. As Homer Simpson would say: "Doh!" Of course, examining the reverse is not possible when identifying fabric in a quilt.