Winter is almost here, and while some people are giddy at the prospect of sparkling slopes in the frosty air, others are looking to spend the next four months — or possibly four years — under the covers.
The University of Vermont’s Fleming Museum of Art explores that impulse with “Handstitched Worlds: The Cartography of Quilts” and a smaller sister exhibition, “About Place: Quilts From Vermont Museums,” both on view through December 6. The 18 quilts in “Handstitched Worlds” come from the collection of the American Folk Art Museum in New York.
“Handstitched Worlds” opens with “Map Quilt,” made in 1886 by an unrecorded artist, possibly from Virginia. Quilting developed as a way to create something functional from scraps, and although other works in the exhibition showcase that tradition and its roots in thrift or poverty, this one is part of a different trend. It’s a swath of sumptuous velvets, ribbons, brocades and silks. Seams are emphasized with embroidered designs; there’s an even more lusciously decorated example of a “crazy quilt” across the hall in “About Place.” According to the label, this version of the U.S. map can be traced to 1880s ladies’ magazines, which published and popularized many quilt patterns.
Some of the most arresting designs are also mysterious.
While the curators make a connection to the idea of manifest destiny, the artist seems to have embellished her design a bit at random: Texas gets its star, but Colorado sports a cobweb. She did presciently assign California blue, Florida red and Pennsylvania purple — as accurate as any modern pollster.
This quilt is the only definitively cartographic one in the show. The curators have framed the collection not as works that literally include maps, nor even as regional samplings, but simply as a fantastic diversity of techniques and sensibilities that the viewer may not expect.
“In Honor Shall Wave Spread,” a 7-by-6-foot embroidery on cotton, looks like a runaway doodle from a history lecture. In simple linear red stitches on a white background, the artist draws zebras, potted plants, a rooster, a buffalo hunt, St. George slaying a dragon, Teddy Roosevelt, bunnies, a Union fifer and drummer trampling another soldier, and coal scuttles of the rich and the poor — probably taken from a political cartoon about the 1902 United Mine Workers’ strike — among other designs. It’s carefully sewn chaos. If this artist were alive today, she’d be making memes of kittens shooting rainbow lasers in space.
Another anonymous offering from the early 20th century, “Charm Quilt,” is a grid of 2,068 1.5-inch squares, quilted (like many in the exhibition) with tiny, impeccable stitches. Here, the triumph isn’t one of geometry, but of pattern: Each cotton square bears a print, many of them surprisingly modern. Zebra stripes sit near designs that look like calligraphy or dotted graph paper; others resemble the stylized squiggles and slashes of early ’90s wallpaper. The label posits different reasons why this type of quilt came to be known as a “charm” quilt, among them that people may have traded scraps of fabric and that the squares might have retained luck or memories from the original garments.
Unusual materials make for intriguing works throughout the show. A “Calamanco Quilt” from the early 1800s is made from glazed wool, pressed with hot irons until it shines. The patterns aren’t pieced together but embossed into the glossy blue surface.
Another wool blanket, probably from India, is a “Soldier’s Quilt” made from military uniforms. During the mid-to-late 19th century, soldiers sewed either as occupational therapy in hospitals or as a “useful alternative to less salubrious pursuits like drinking and gambling,” according to curatorial text. The mandala-like, impeccably neat design features appliquéd stacks of felted wool in British army red, navy, and olive greens.
American quilting has been heavily influenced by the conditions of slavery. Although none of these quilts is believed to have been made by enslaved people, that history is acknowledged. Nora McKeown Ezell’s “Star Quilt,” from 1977, draws on the Black tradition of using the Star of Hope motif — a reference to the celestial navigation used on the underground railroad. Ezell’s bright colors intensify stars at different scales with pieces cut at different angles, an explosive composition that’s only a step away from op art.
A more traditional star quilt in “About Place,” made by an Indigenous artist in the early 20th century, also has exquisite, mind-bending geometry, this time paired with flower motifs that recall Eastern woodlands patterns.
Some of the most arresting designs are also mysterious. The “‘Ella’ Crazy Quilt,” by an unrecorded artist from 1922, combines a range of black and off-black suiting materials with light-colored embroidery. Each block could be its own unlabeled map; expanses in all different shapes and sizes make a subtly-toned topography with no legend. It’s similar to one of the non-quilts in the show, panels from Jerry Gretzinger’s ongoing project, “Jerry’s Map,” which has created a fictional world from unrelated map panels.
While the inclusion of a few works by known artists adds a sense of individual personalities to the show, one of the medium’s most powerful aspects is that quilts are often created through collective action. The early 20th-century “Friendship Album Quilt” and the “Cross River Album Quilt” from 1861 are both made up of pattern blocks by different women, signed in embroidery with names or initials.
Mrs. Eldad Miller, for instance, embellished her block not only with her name and the date but also a tiny icon of one hand grasping another. Though most of the show’s labels credit an “Unrecorded Artist,” Miller’s proto-emoji reminds the viewer that these works of art weren’t made by any one extraordinary woman but by a lot of them together, stitching whole worlds out of whatever they had.
The original print version of this article was headlined “Patched Together | The Fleming Museum shows a rich and diverse selection of quilts”
Related Stories
This article appears in The Winter Preview Issue 2024.
Got something to say?
Send a letter to the editor and we'll publish your feedback in print!
