Occupying the second floor of The Textile Museum at The George Washington University, “Handstitched Worlds: The Cartography of Quilts” is an enchanting exhibition that offers a new take on treasured heirlooms. Organized by the American Folk Art Museum (New York, NY) and toured by International Arts & Artists (Washington, DC), the show includes quilts spanning two hundred years and several geographical regions, as well as contemporary works of art that build upon quilt traditions and push the limits of materiality. The word “quilt” is explored as a noun and a verb, a product and a process that oscillates between utilitarian and decorative, object and art.

        The Oxford English Dictionary defines quilting as an act of “stitching together.” In the traditional sense, this applies most obviously to threads connecting pieces of cloth. But in the context of “Handstitched Worlds,” quilting also reflects the curatorial work of this show, bringing together seemingly disconnected items to create a display that encourages the visitor to rethink that old quilt in a box in their attic. For instance, the exhibition juxtaposes more conventional cotton and wool quilts from the nineteenth century with contemporary art that takes inspiration from traditional quilt practice. In one example, Drunell Levinson embraces the recognizable form of the quilt in her 1998 work Fort Knocks but uses an unusual material: aluminum-wrapped condoms.

 

        The show also encourages viewers to think beyond the surface—the color and designs—and consider the quilt as an object of materiality, physicality, and, most importantly, history. Displayed and interpreted like works of art, these quilts embody the unique circumstances of their creation. The cloth used in each illuminates a global network of manufacturing and distribution that shaped the textiles available to quilt makers and the material choices they made. The shapes, patterns, and colors can reveal hundreds of years of knowledge and traditions passed down by family members and communities. Some of these inherited stories and meanings have been preserved while others are lost to history. Quilts become a way to explore complex social, economic, and technological histories, while also bringing to the forefront the individuals (many whose names are no longer known) instrumental in the creation and continued preservation of these works.

        One of the challenges of many historic textiles—and the decorative arts more broadly—is that creators’ names are often not recorded. Of the eighteen works on display, only eight have a named maker. Of these, three are modern pieces and one maker is identified only by their first name, “Ella,” signed in thread in the fabric of the quilt. The other pieces are labeled only as “artist unidentified.” However, they still offer clues into the lives and legacies of the people involved in quilting. What the exhibition does so beautifully is use quilts to explore not just the lives of these and many other makers, but to weave in the larger social and cultural events of the worlds in which they lived and created.

 

 

        Much can be learned from the quilts themselves—the images, colors, motifs, and materials all reflect the larger social, cultural, and political contexts in which these objects were made. In a more literal take on the quilt as documentary record, In Honor Shall Wave Spread (1902), by a now unknown American artist, is embroidered with various animals, historical figures, and mythical creatures. One could spend hours examining each representation and piecing together the stories they tell. Overall, text throughout the exhibition is minimal, leaving visitors to make their own connections and interpretations.

        One of the main (though unspoken) themes of the exhibition is materiality. Cloth is not just cloth—the type of textile, the finish, cut, and design can shed light on the specific circumstances around the creation of the quilt and the types of resources available to the quilters. “Ella” Crazy Quilt (1922) was made by an American artist—identified only as “Ella” from a stitched signature in one of the central panels. Made from suiting woolens, this work suggests that Ella may have been involved in the growing ready-to-wear clothing industry, allowing her access to fabric scraps that later became this quilt.

        Soldier’s Quilt (circa 1850-1875) is thought to be from India and was made by a now unknown artist—likely a soldier. This vibrant and geometric work includes intricate three-dimensional florets made of a heavy felt-like wool, the same type of wool used for military uniforms during the period. Not only does the materiality of this work provide clues into a fascinating geopolitical history, but it also challenges stereotypes that place quilting as a gendered and domestic activity. As the label text explains, quilting was an honorable pastime for soldiers (highly preferable to drinking and rabble-rousing) and was encouraged in camps and in hospitals as a form of therapy.

 

 

        However, the process of creating a quilt goes beyond simply stitching the fabric together. First, one must come by the materials themselves. Charm Quilt (1880-1920), made by a now unknown American artist, consists of 2,068 squares of cloth (almost all unique) repurposed into this dazzling work. Not only a record of the labor and craft that went into its construction, but this quilt also reflects the enormous effort that the maker (or makers) put into gathering all these textile pieces. One can almost imagine the exchange of scraps across the community, the negotiations and comradery needed to get enough pieces to construct a quilt that is 80 by 75 1/2 inches The fact that so many different squares were available speaks to the resources and generosity of the local community, and to the emergence of the industrial manufacturing in the mid-nineteenth century that expanded textile access and options for people around the world.

 

Jean-Marcel St. Jacques, Contrary to Hearsay, He Wasn’t the Devil, 2014, Wood, nails, and antique hardware on a plywood backing. http://artistsofutah.org/15Bytes/index.php/umfa-exhibit-expands-the-our-idea-of-quiltmaking/.

 

        Jean-Marcel St. Jacques’s work, Contrary to Hearsay, He Wasn’t the Devil (2014), considers how the collection and transformation of materials can be a form of recovery and reclamation. Building on quilting traditions learned from his great-grandmother, St. Jacques collected debris from his hometown of New Orleans in the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina and transformed these lost materials into a beautiful, vibrant series called Wooden Quilts. Despite their new configuration, these reclaimed architectural fragments emphasize the resilience of New Orleans and the universality of the quilt, a form that can be applied to various materials and situations to bring people, places, and things together across generations.

 

(Left) Artist unknown, Map Quilt, 1886. Silk and cotton velvets and brocade with embroidery, 78 3/4 × 82 ¼ inches. Image courtesy of the American Folk Art Museum. Gift of Dr. and Mrs. C. David McLaughlin. Photo by Schecter Lee. (Right) Jerry Gretzinger, Jerry’s Map (Twenty Panels, Generation V). Felt-tip pen, colored pencil, acrylic, tape, and plastic clippings collaged on heavy paper, 40 x 40 inches. Photo: https://www.apartmenttherapy.com/jerrys-map-american-folk-art-museum-photos-256586. © Jerry Gretzinge.

 

         What makes a quilt a quilt? This is a question that may stump most viewers, after perusing nearly twenty works that embrace slightly (or vastly) different definitions of the word. Is it the process, the materiality, or the product? From the velour-like texture of Map Quilt (1886), a literal cartographic depiction of America, to Jerry Gretzinger’s Jerry’s Map (Twenty Panels, Generation V), an ongoing project of connecting paper panels, Handstitched Worlds: The Cartography of Quiltsis a dynamic spatial, temporal, and material world worth exploring.

 

This exhibition is on view at The Textile Museum (The George Washington University) from September 9, 2023 – December 22, 2023. 

 

Dedicated to my grandmother, Sally Lehmann, a life-long art historian.

 

Emelia Lehmann is a Washington DC-based writer and cultural heritage professional. She has also written for Art Media Agency and IdeelArt Magazine.