Ragged Cloth Cafe, serving Art and Textiles

Near the Lagoon 2003 118x79x4″

Can you always articulate why you like or dislike a piece of art?  I can’t.  Several years ago, when the Modern Wing of the Art Institute of Chicago had just opened, I was just looking for a bench, exhausted by the  many wondrous works I had seen.  Instead, my eye was caught by a very large, monochromatic — painting, collage, sculpture? — I couldn’t even tell what it was!

It was Jasper Johns’ Near the Lagoon.

I examined it minutely.  Time passed.  I sat with it.  I tried to sketch it.  What was it about it that so riveted me? Jasper Johns? He was the guy with the flags, right?  Nope, not interested . . . or was I?  I needed to know more.

White Flag 1955 79×120″

White Flag.  It’s sort of white, sort of a flag.  But far more interesting.  Johns is interested in “how we see and why we see.”  He wants us not only to look past the known object, the flag, but into it.  “At first I had some idea that the absence of color made the work more physical,” he explained. “Early on I was very involved with the notion of the painting as an object and tended to attack that idea from different directions.”

Gray-numbers 1958

The Dutch Wives 1975

Catenary-Call to the Grave 1998

Near the Lagoon 2003

detail

Johns attached objects to the surfaces of his encaustic paintings.  In the Catenary series, of which Near the Lagoon is the final and largest one, the looping string is the catenary (the curve made by string hanging from two points).  And it’s a real string.  In Near the Lagoon, one of the things that first struck me was the string — I had to get close to see if it was painted or not.  And then I laughed because the actual string casts a shadow, but there’s a painted shadow as well. And a little ditch caused by the string’s having gotten stuck in the wax and being pulled out. The color, in the wax, makes each brush stroke individual, the texture a real physicality.  And the side of this fascinating work of art looks like part of an old door or shutter. A window? A real window, and a window into the painting.  The real and the painted. The object and the object objectified.  Johns asks us to look and to see.  To observe.  And his work is very richly textured and rewarding.

As a child I sewed by hand (age 8), my father worked in a place that had satin and taffeta scraps and he brought them home. As I grew up, age 9, I got a tin toy sewing machine with a crank handle. I was in heaven I could sew tube tops for me and things for my dolls. 12 years old when I got a real sewing machine WOW.  Did I wonder where the sewing machine came from? No –  and had not really thought about it until thinking about a post for RCC.

  The inside of the modern-day sewing machine. Head Front View

A sewing machine is: “a machine used to stitch fabric and other materials together with thread.” These machines were invented during the Industrial Revolution to decrease the amount of time it took to hand sew garments. In 1755, Charles Frederick Wiesenthal, a German born engineer living in the UK was issued the first British patent for a mechanical device to aid in the art of sewing. The machine consisted of a double-pointed needle with an eye on one end.  In 1790, the English inventor Thomas Saint invented the first sewing machine design, but he did not market the machine well.  The machine was designed to sew canvas and leather type materials.  It is thought that Saint had a working model but it has never been found.  The machine produced a chain stitch method (a vertical needle bar and a looper), the single thread  made a simple stitch in the material and with the aid of the stitching awl which pierced the material going to the underside forming a stitch – the process was repeated and formed a locked stitch.

Howe’s Lockstitch Machine and built-in 1845

This machine was also used to make saddles, bridles, canvas and boat sails.  His machine was very advance but needed steady improvements over the next decades.  In 1874 William N. Wilson found Saints British patent in the patent office.  Wilson made adjustments to the looper and built a working machine – the machine is in the London Science Museum. In 1804 a sewing machine was built by Englishman Thomas and James Henderson, an embroidering machine was built by John Duncan in Scotland, Austrian tailor, Josef Madersperger began developing his first machine in 1807, his first working model was in 1814. You could go on and on through the years but to be up to date we shall skip a few of the years.  1845 brought an important improvement “the needle running away from the point, starting from the eye”.  there have been patent infringements  and awards made this machine.

Isaac Singer enter the picture:  he saw a rotary sewing machine being repaired and thought it to be clumsy,

Singer then designed a better one using a falling shuttle instead of the rotary plus he included a presser foot to hold the fabric in place – the needle was placed vertically, had a fixed arm to hold the needle and provided a basic tension system   Singer was granted a patent in 1851 and suggested a patent for a foot petal (called a treadle) but this foot petal had been in use for too long to get a patent. With the invention of the Sewing Machine a mans shirt could be produced in 1 hour where by hand it took 14.5 hours.  Since 1877 many types of machines have been designed i.e. overlock, crochet, vibrating shuttle .

In 1880 this machine was built by the Wilson and Wheeler Company.  Notice the crank.

As the years evolved so did the sewing machine industry – Making a selection as to what you need or want – are you going to quilt on it, sew garments, make sails, overlock., embroidery, felt or ??? What size throat, domestic or longarm, it goes on and on.  Then comes price.  A big new Bernina would be fun but do you need a new car?  The first BIG Bernina cost $12,000.00 , a Ford Focus cost $11,000.00.

Looking back over the years what have been your machines, what type of sewing have you done?  I have a 1-year-old Jamone 8900 Horizon, the first computerized machine I’ve owned.  My all time favorite is my 30-year-old 930 Bernina.  I do wall art quilts, wearable art and streetwear.

It is a truth universally acknowledged that quilt shows must have invigilators of some sort. You see them at shows all around the world.

White glove ladies (and quiltmaker) at Melbourne Modern Quilt Guild, Australia (via)

Quilt angel at Houston show, Texas (via)

White glove helper at Road to California quilt show (via)

Taking up positions at Festival of Quilts, Birmingham, UK (via)

Call them white glove ladies, or quilt angels, stewards or quilt guardians – they are there to keep an eye on the quilts, to keep them safe. They can make sure no-one simply walks off with one (it has happened! remember this?) and that visitors obey the Do Not Touch The Quilts signs.

At Glendale, CA, quilt show (via)

These helpers also get to share their love of quilting in conversations with interested visitors. (They don’t even need to be an expert on the techniques as there are usually samples or statements that can be looked at and read for the details, to which visitors can be referred.) They might need (in smaller shows) to keep a tally of visitors, or take money for items being sold. When things are quiet, they have a chance to chat with other helpers and get to know them better.

That last consideration is important in a large regional or even national group, in which members don’t meet face to face very often. My own experience is of Contemporary Quilt in the UK – we communicate with each other through a yahoo group, and see other members mainly at Festival of Quilts each year. It makes a difference to be able to put a face to the name.

Men in tuxedos did the white-gloving at San Diego Quilt Show’s “It’s a Zoo Out There” Preview Night (via)

Kilted white glove helper at the International Quilt Festival of Ireland (via)

With all these positive aspects, and no training needed (you just need to smile, be pleasant, use common sense) – why are people so reluctant to volunteer to help out in this way?

Some, of course, live too far from the show, or have health issues or conflicting responsibilities that make this impossible. For shows in big national venues, the hassle of travelling to get there and the costs involved, and then the time that needs to be set aside, can deter volunteers.

Some are shy or afraid of the public; others don’t feel they know enough to be able to answer questions.

Some – usually the same people time after time – will help out at the drop of a hat and travel for one or two hours to do so.

What about the rest … are they lost causes? Is this reluctance to volunteer for a simple task a part of a general lethargy and apathy?  When stewarding slots need filling, how can these people be “incentivized”?

One incentive for doing several hours of minding the quilts is to get a day pass to the (large) show, which allows several hours of looking around at other displays and traders.

Collectible “quilt angel” pins are a tangible reward. For example, the“Roadie” bar is earned by volunteering four hours or more at the Road To California quilt show. Each year “Roadies” receive a year bar to add to their special pin. At Houston, the “quilt angels” earn an Angel pin for a three-hour shift, and if they serve two shifts, they earn priority registration for the next show.

The “Roadie” pin (via)

A rather compelling incentive is pressure from others in the group – the sense that every member makes a contribution, not just of their membership fee but of something else, which can be helping run the organization or doing one of the behind-the-scenes jobs – or contributing by looking after the quilts at shows near them.