Quilters can be inspired by lots of things.  Pictures.  Music.  Dreams.  Color (which is a big one for me).  We gaze at new patterns, new quilts, and color graphics on the internet and in quilting magazines.  We can get that “quilting rush” from watching videos from our favorite quilters.  However, sometimes inspiration can come from the quiet voice of the past.  The old quilt blocks.  The antique quilts we see in antique stores, and if we’re lucky, a relative’s home.  Sometimes the quilter’s rush is replaced with the joy of creating something from the past.  And that’s what I want to discuss in today’s blog.  Reproducing old quilts.  Or to really be more specific, accurately reproducing these quilts. 

It’s one idea to reproduce an old quilt.  It’s entirely another to do it accurately.  Also, let me adamantly say, there is nothing wrong with reproducing an old quilt inaccurately, either.  Many of the quilt blocks we use in our quilts are hundreds of years old.  However, despite their advanced age, they work well with modern fabrics, reproduction fabrics, and everything else in between.  Like a good little, black dress, they are timeless.  But if the desire ever hits you to make a quilt accurate to a particular time period, there are certain things to consider. 

For the purposes of this blog, we’ll consider making a Civil War quilt.  I chose this time period for a couple of reasons.  First, many quilt shops (both online and brick-and-mortar) carry a line of Civil War Reproduction Fabric.  Some quilt sites (such as Hancock’s of Paducah) have a large selection.  Others are smaller and more curated.  The second reason is you can still find fabric made during this era – especially indigos.  Both of these factors will play an important role as we move forward with our quilt.  The other considerations are quilt blocks, colors, fabric, and techniques.

Quilt Blocks

Civil War quilts are really pretty easy to research.  There are well over 50 books with Civil War quilt patterns listed on Amazon.  These texts cover everything from blocks, to construction, to colors.  You’ll find there are samplers and applique quilts and even the infamous Dear Jane quilt to consider.  For this blog, let’s find a block which is accurate to the Civil War period and work with a layout.  After some Googling, I discovered that small, pieced blocks were very popular during this war – averaging around 6 ½-inches unfinished.  Applique blocks were larger.  Applique and piecing were usually not mixed with these quilts – they were either pieced or appliqued. 

For our pieced block, we’ll work with the Ohio Star.

This quilt block was allegedly developed during the 1800’s, so it does fall squarely within the dates of the Civil War.  According to Barbara Brackman, the block was constructed in honor of the Ohio town of Oberlin and Mary Leary Langstrom who lost her husband during John Brown’s raid on Harper’s Ferry.  The block also is called the Variable Star, Eastern Star, Western Star, and Texas Star. 

For the applique block, we’ll use the Oak Leaf and Reel (sometimes called Lover’s Knot), which came into prominence around 1830.  This pattern was frequently used on wedding quilts and was one of the first patterns to involve curves.  It seems to have suddenly appeared on the quilting scene in Pennsylvania, but quickly spread to other parts of the United States and it still remains a classic.  The applique pieces surrounding the center may change a bit from quilt to quilt, and I have seen the center block with a circle appliqued on it, but the basic design has remained the same.

It is important, if you want to make a realistic reproduction, you research blocks which were used during the time period.  For instance, a Sunbonnet Sue would be out of place in our Civil War Quilt.  She wasn’t really introduced to the quilting world until the twentieth century.  A Google search is a good place to start, followed by Barbara Brackman’s and Carrie Hall’s research.*

Colors

If you’re constructing an accurate reproduction quilt, you want your colors to also be as accurate to the time period as possible.  The internet makes this easy… and difficult at the same time.  For instance, I searched “Civil War colors” and this came up:

These were some of the colors used for Chaplains Uniforms.  With this search, it primarily returned the colors of Civil War uniforms (lots of blues and grays and butternuts).  However, the color palette then had so many more options.  I found searching the term “fabrics” was a much better option than “colors.”

The Civil War Era color palette was vast – so much bigger than blues, grays, and butternuts.  And this fact fits.  The height of America’s calico production was from 1850 until 1855.  There were literally hundreds of yards produced in a day in one mill alone.  All of this added up to about 10,000 different prints per year.  All of which leads us to our next consideration…

Fabric

When we think about any reproduction quilt, our minds immediately to go all the wonderful reproduction fabrics available.  The demand for reproduction fabric began in the 1970’s as the United States Bicentennial drew quilters and crafters back to the past.  And the market for this fabric is still quite active. Most of this fabric is very, very good and for the most part, very accurate.  But stop for a minute and think about the fact that during the heyday of America’s calico production, there were 10,000 different prints rolling out of production every year.  There is no way today’s fabric manufacturers could reproduce that many prints. Despite the demand for this material, the retail market for reproduction fabric is a niche group, and not as many yards of this fabric are sold when compared to all the other fabric available.  Designers do reproduce some of the prints in the most popular colors, but the market is limited for cost effective reasons.  However, don’t let that discourage you – there are still hundreds of options offered. 

While the Civil War reproduction prints may be accurate, due to the differences in dying processes, the colors may not be completely correct.  There will be some variances, but those are minor, and the bonus is the reproduction fabrics are color fast, something the old natural and synthetic dyes couldn’t claim. 

It’s kind of interesting to note not all fabric manufacturers can legally make reproduction fabric identical to the fabric of an era.  Not only have dying methods changed, but some of the prints are still copyrighted.  For instance, the prints on Civil War fabric were not (for the most part) under copyright.  Fabric houses can duplicate those prints on current fabric.  However, once you get to the 1930’s, things get a little more complicated.  One of the big fabric resources for quilters during the Depression (and into the 1940’s) were Feed Sacks.  Companies who sold their products in sacks (flour, sugar, chicken feed, salt, etc.) became highly competitive with their prints and colors.  Many of them copyrighted their dyes/colors and the prints.  So while fabric houses can reproduce a lot of the Feed Sack prints and colors, they can’t tip-toe into copyrighted territory.  This is why some of the 1930’s colors (especially the mint green)** in reproduction fabric can be  just a bit off from the original. 

But let’s posit this scenario – what if you have actual fabric from the time period?  Even though the Civil War is well in the past, you can still find fabric from that era (especially indigoes).  And Feed Sacks can be purchased at antique stores, and on Etsy and Ebay.  I have a plastic bin full of them.  What could be more accurate for a realistic reproduction quilt than to use the actual fabric from the time period?  If I have it, should I use it?  And should I mix it with current reproduction fabric?

The answer is yes…and no…to both questions.  There are several considerations to ponder before using antique fabric or mixing it with currently produced material.  Vintage fabric is defined as anything more than 30 years old (some of my stash may be heading towards this territory).  If you add this type of material into a quilt – unless the quilt is made entirely of vintage fabric – it could cause the quilt to be incorrectly dated.  When a quilt is given an “age” (usually by an appraiser or quilt historian), the age of the quilt is taken from the most current fabric used in the quilt.  For instance, if I made a quilt and used Feed Sacks and my Aunt Grace Feed Sack Reproductions, it should be dated in the 2000’s not 1930’s because the Aunt Grace line is more current.  However, if this fact slips past the appraiser or historian, it may be dated to the 1930’s, and that would be incorrect.  Would this fact slip by most appraisers or historians?   No.  Most of those are highly trained, but it could happen, and the wrong date can affect the monetary value of a quilt.

Another consideration is how the quilt will be used.  If you really want to use vintage fabric in a quilt, you may want to choose a quilt type which wouldn’t be handled a great deal, as the thread weave in vintages may not hold up to a lot of wear and tear.  Wall hangings would be a great possibility for antique fabric.  Another consideration is fabric weights.  Avoid mixing them too much.  Today’s reproductions have a tighter weave than most vintage fabric.  It’s not good to mix a tightly woven fabric with one which is more loosely woven.  The difference will cause the fabrics to pull apart as it’s handled.  And if the quilt will be washed or in direct sunlight, you may want to give serious second thoughts about using vintages.  Neither is good for antique fabric.

If you do use vintage fabric in the center of your quilt, you may want to use reproduction fabric in the borders, as the tighter weave of the newer fabric will stabilize the center well.

Techniques Used

It’s important to remember that although a working sewing machine was invented by Elias Howe in 1819, sewing machines weren’t widely used until 1850.  So if you’re making a reproduction quilt prior to 1850, hand piecing would be the most accurate technique to use.  After that, machine piecing is fine.  Hand quilting didn’t give way to machine quilting even after sewing machines began to show up in most households.  While, yes, some quilts made from 1850 onward were quilted by machine, it wasn’t until the 1990’s that machine quilting became widely accepted and used (both domestic machine and long arm).  Applique was performed by hand (usually a type of needle turn) or machine from 1850 forward, however machine applique didn’t become really popular until sometime around the 1930’s.  It is interesting to note that these early appliquers did use a kind of basting glue.  So grab those glue sticks and use them freely and without guilt.

Quilting motifs are another consideration.  If accuracy is your goal, you can’t just pull a pantograph or your favorite computerized quilting design out and let your long arm or domestic machine do its thing.  Vintage quilts contain echo quilting, quilting along seam lines, cross hatch, double cross hatch, hanging diamonds, Baptist fans, and feathers.  If you can’t decide how to quilt your quilt, spend some time Googling antique quilts in your reproduction’s time frame.  This should give you a good idea about how to quilt your quilt.

Finally…

When most quilters talk about reproduction fabric or reproduction quilts, generally two eras come to mind:  Civil War Quilts and 1930’s Quilts.  Quilt shops (both online and brick-and-mortar) usually carry a bit of each, making reproduction fabric from both of these eras easy to find.  And I have found a few shops  now carry American Revolution lines, too.  But sometimes we fall in love with fabrics or quilts (or both) from a completely different era and we struggle to find either useable vintage fabric from this period or reproduction fabric.

Besides being a huge fan of 1930’s quilts, I also love the Edwardian period.  And fortunately for me, with the recent surge in popularity of Jane Austin, there have been a few Edwardian reproduction fabric lines made, including a Jane Austin Quilt Kit.

In my search for this reproduction fabric, I found costuming websites extremely helpful.  They offered accurate colors and reproduction fabric for costumes, some of which could be used in quilts.  And in the process of looking through hundreds of webpages at this fabric, I found French General fabrics matched up fairly close to some of this material (which may explain why I have some ample yardage of this line in stash). 

Listen if the past whispers to you and urges you to create something new from something old.  And don’t be afraid to think outside the box with this type of quilting…or any other.

Until next week, keep stitching!

From my studio to yours, Love and Stitches,

Sherri and Felix

*Barbara Brackman has written many books on Civil War quilts as well as other period specific quilts. She also writes a blog on quilting. It’s well worth your time to Google this wonderful lady who has done extensive research on quilt blocks (her encyclopedia of blocks is amazing) and see what she has to offer. Carrie Hall (1866 – 1955) was determined to piece a cloth block for every known patchwork pattern of more than 150 blocks. The College of Spencer Museum of Art, University of Kansas, took the blocks, drew colored illustrations of each, of them, added templates, and all known names of each block. These can be found in Carrie Hall Blocks: Over 800 Historical Paterns from the College of the Spencer Museum or Art, University of Kansas.

** Green was a problematic for fabric manufacturers. We tend to think of this green as the infamous “poison green” of the 1800’s.

It is not. This is the real poison green.

This green became popular during the 19th century  and is called Scheele’s Green. This green was truly the “it” color of the time (think of it as the 19th century’s Pantone Color of the Year). Wallpaper, paint, upholstery fabric, curtains, and clothing were made in this color. However, the color was produced synthetically from a mix of copper, oxygen, and arsenic. Over time, exposure to this dye literally was killing people. Once the priority formula was revealed, people ditched everything made in Scheele’s green and green as a color fell out of favor. When it was re-introduced in the Thirties as more of a minty green, the manufacturer made sure it was distinctly different from Scheele’s green and had it copyrighted. 

Some of these copyrights remain in place, so today’s reproduction manufacturers alter the color slightly so not to be in violation.

There is really nothing much lovelier than an Irish Chain Quilt.

The simple design with printed or solid-colored fabric squares paired with a light background draws the eyes across the quilt top.  Add the fact that this particular Irish Chain is made from nine-patches, and you have simplicity at its finest. 

I’ve always wanted to make an Irish Chain Quilt because 1).  I think they’re lovely 2).  The Single Irish Chain is simple and easy and 3).  I have some ancestors who came from Ireland.  Nothing like getting your quilting DNA entangled in your actual DNA for the perfect quilt, right?

Well…it would be amazing if the Irish Chain actually came from Ireland. 

Yeah, there’s some kind of debate about that. 

The first link in my Irish Chain ancestry is John Perry who was born on May 22, 1754, in Northern Ireland.  By 1774, at 20 years-old, he’s in Maryland and a new Patriot was born.  After serving in the Revolutionary War, he traverses through Virginia and West Virginia, before settling down with Elizabeth McClung and producing quite a few children.  He died in 1813 and is buried in Monroe, Virgina.

As far as the Irish Chain Quilt … well, its ancestry is a bit murkier. The first literary reference for the quilt is found in T.S. Arthur’s 1849 story The Quilting Party.  This block:

the single Irish Chain was “officially” named by Nancy Cabot, the quilt columnist for The Chicago Tribune, in 1933 (it was one of the first, if not the first time, it was referred to by this name in print).  It’s worth noting this was probably not the first time this name was given to this particular Nine-Patch variation, either.  As a matter of fact, this one of the few quilts I’ve come across which didn’t have other names.  Some quilts/quilt blocks either had or still have a half a dozen or more names.  However, it’s important to remember that the single Irish Chain is a Nine-Patch variation.  So while most of the time we tend to think of it looking like this:

It can also look like this: 

And still be an Irish Chain.

If you’re thinking about all of these Irish Chains and Nine-Patches, you may be wondering what’s the difference between a Nine-Patch and an Irish Chain?  Well, a Nine-Patch can be an Irish Chain, but it can also be just a Nine-Patch.  It all depends on consistent color placement.  Let’s look at a Nine-Patch which can only be a Nine-Patch. Take a look at this quilt:

The blocks don’t work together to create an over-all linked pattern which looks like a chain.  The centers and the corner squares are all different colors.  This is a great quilt, it’s just not an Irish Chain.  However take the same Nine-Patch block, and use the same fabric in the center square and the four corners like this:

Now put them in a quilt:

And you have an Irish Chain.  It’s the consistent shading in the Nine-Patch’s center square and four corner squares which will make it an Irish Chain. 

You can up the game of a single Irish Chain by adding an alternate block.  For instance, let’s take the Nine Patch and throw in some pieced corner squares, keeping the fabrics consistent:

And add this block, with the same consistent corner fabric…

Then lay them out in alternating rows…

And you get a Double Irish Chain.  The pieced block has 25-squares in it.  The alternating squares can offer a great opportunity to show off your (or someone else’s) quilting skills.   Or, if you like to applique, that block is a great place to showcase some of your applique skills.

Not to be stopped with only a Double Irish Chain, quilters also developed the Triple Irish Chain.  For this quilt, you begin with a pieced block of 49 squares:

And add this alternating block, which also offers ample opportunities for quilting or applique.  Or both.

The construction of these quilts really hasn’t changed a great deal since the eighteenth century.  Single Irish Chains burst upon the quilt landscape then.  Triple and Double Irish Chains appeared around 1840-ish.  This is a quilt pattern which would be completely appropriate for reproduction fabrics, as well as modern day ones.  If you want your Irish Chain to reflect a certain time period, simply research the colors and use those accordingly.  The color palette for most Chains is limited, so coordinating your fabrics shouldn’t be too much of a problem.

Okay, back to what I said in the beginning of this blog.  While my Irish ancestry was fairly easy to pin down (thank you Ancestry.com), the Irish Quilt’s past is just a tad murky.  As a matter of fact, there’s a good chance it isn’t even Irish.  Stay with me here.  I may just blow another quilty gasket.

According to Barbara Brackman, the earliest recorded Irish Chain Quilt Pattern dates to 1814 and it was published in America.  If the fact this information comes from the Dean of all Things Quilty Barbara Brackman herself is enough to make you accept the whole “Irish Chains Originated in America” idea, you may find a photo in a book called West Virginia Quilts and Quilt Makers an interesting rebuttal. 

There is a photo in this book of a quilt which look remarkably like an Irish Chain, but it was made in Ireland around 1805 and it’s pieced with Irish thread and the fabric and quilting design is definitely Irish.  It was pieced and quilted by Margaret Kee Boggs of County Claire, Ireland. However, this quilt isn’t called an Irish Chain, it’s called American Chain.

Oy-vey.

Let’s recap.  The Irish Chain is one of those wonderful quilts which is beautiful in its simplicity.  It elevates a Nine-Patch variation to great heights and can show off a two-color quilt like nobody’s business.  The pattern morphed into a Double and Triple Irish Chain and all three of these patterns have remained popular from the mid-eighteenth century through today.  Because this quilt has not changed, it lends itself to reproduction fabrics as well as any modern-day prints.  It’s easy enough for a beginner and challenging enough for an experienced quilter.  It doesn’t have a vast color palette, so any fears one may have about fabric choices should be eased.  The Double and Triple chains have more than ample opportunity to show off quilting and/or applique skills.

All-in-all, the Irish Chain could just be the perfect quilt pattern.

A Few Tips from My Studio

• The pieced squares in the single, double, and triple chain look as if you could spend hours cutting out small squares and then just as many hours sewing them together.  If this is causing any hesitation on your part about the quilt’s construction, remember that this type of quilt lends itself to strip piecing.  Most directions now tell you how to join your strips of fabric along the length and then sub cut those into two or four patches.
• Most nine-patch blocks in the single chain work best if they’re 6 ½-inches unfinished.
• Curvy quilting will help soften the vertical and horizontal lines.
• You may find spray starch or starch substitute a helpful tool to have on hand to stabilize the strips just a bit.
• See this?

This is the original Irish Chain.  Quilters have long been known to name blocks after familiar objects.  This Irish Chain is a surveying tool.  Each chain was divided into 100 links and each link was 10.08 inches  The entire chain measured 1,000 feet.

Then just for fun, I’ve set the Irish Chains on point. 

Until next week, From My Studio to Yours,

Love and Stitches,

Sherri and Felix

It all began pretty innocently.  It was 2020.  We were in the middle of the Pandemic.  My local guild wasn’t meeting, but the raffle quilt committee was in the middle of our construction process.  If you’re not familiar with Guild Raffle Quilts, allow me to clue you in on their importance.  The quilt is constructed, and tickets are sold for a chance to win the quilt.  The money raised by this activity go to fund guild activities, such as speakers for programs and paying the rent for the guild’s meeting place.  Normally a quilt show goes along with the raffle quilt and between those two fund raisers, a guild finds itself in a reasonable economic place for a couple of years.

In 2020, there were no quilt shows because the Pandemic was in full-force, and everything was cancelled.  Which meant all of our guild’s funding would have to come from the sale of raffle quilt tickets.  Which also meant, Pandemic or no Pandemic, our raffle quilt must go on.  Our chairperson had farmed out blocks, collected them and constructed the center.  Janet and I were charged with the applique borders. 

And that’s when the “trouble” began.  Besides the fact we both like to applique, we both shared the same kind of humor and were former educators.  For several weeks, we’d meet on Friday mornings, work on the borders, and have lunch.  This wasn’t our first rodeo with raffle quilts together.  Janet had previously chaired the committee several times and I helped her.  However, in the isolation of the Pandemic, those Friday mornings were my islands of sanity in a sea of insanity.  Once the quilt was complete, we continued to meet on Fridays, asking a few additional friends to join us.

Which brings us to where we are now:  The Friday Grilled Cheese and Wine Club (GCWC for short). We (semi-regularly) explore grilled cheese recipes (because it is an all-around excellent sandwich) and pair those with appropriate wines.  In addition, someone may bring a soup, another a salad, and there is always dessert.  We also have morning tea with some type of goodie.  After all, we are a sophisticated bunch.  For several hours each Friday, Janet, Susan, and I work on our quilts.  Julie usually knits.  Julie is teaching me to knit.

Julie has the patience of a saint.

During the week, we send each other countless silly memes, but on occasion we also may pass along interesting tidbits of non-political news.  A few weeks ago, Janet sent me this: 

And asked if I had ever written a blog about buttons.  I couldn’t remember, so I googled my own blog, and the answer is, “No.”  I’ve mentioned buttons and how they influenced charm squares, but I’ve never devoted an entire blog to entirely buttons.  Well, that had to change.

Normally buttons are associated with garment construction.  I used so many buttons when I made my kids’ clothes, I honestly don’t think I put in more than a dozen zippers the entire time.  When buttons are mentioned, we think about buttonholes, clothing, and perhaps bags.   But quilters do use buttons.  We’ve used them as eyes for appliqued animals.  We’ve used them for the centers of flowers.  And on this quilt:

All those black dots aren’t tiny, black circles.  They’re buttons. Hundreds of them.  So what about buttons?  Why all the hoopla about some tiny, plastic disks which are generally used to hold our clothing on our bodies?  Afterall, a button is simply a fastener that joins two pieces of fabric together by slipping through a loop or sliding through a buttonhole.

Well, to begin with, buttons haven’t always been around, nor have they been used in garment or quilt construction.  We do tend to think of them as plastic disks, but in reality they may also be made of wood, metal, or seashell.  Buttons can be used on wallets and bags and may be used strictly for ornamentation. In the art world they can be used as an example of folk art, studio craft, or even a miniature work of art.  In archaeology, buttons can be significant artifacts. 

Before 2800 – 2600 BC, buttons didn’t exist.  They first appeared in the Indus Valley civilization during its Kot Diji phase, at the Tomb of the Eagles in Scotland, the Bronze age sites in China, and in Ancient Rome.  And at those times, they weren’t used as clothing fasteners.  They were ornaments or seals.  As a matter of fact it wasn’t until Egypt’s Eighteenth Dynasty we find buttons used as fasteners.  Prior to this they were used as clothing decorations.  The Egyptians used them in wig covers.  These buttons were formed from precious metals sewn onto strips of backing fabric.  Leatherwork from the Roman Empire incorporates some of the first buttonholes and buttons.  These buttons closed the legionary Loculus (satchel). 

Buttons were used to close cuffs by the Byzantine Empire and to fasten the necks of Egyptian tunics no later than the 5^th century.  In medieval times they were used in footwear.  During the 17^th century, box-like buttons were produced for smuggling drugs.  Buttons used during the World Wars were “locket” buttons.  Some of these buttons contained miniature, working compasses.  And during the Civil War, many uniform buttons were made of lead.  If a Union or Confederate company was running low on bullets, buttons could be melted down into ammunition. 

By 1918, the US government made an extensive survey of the international button market and discovered buttons have been made from vegetable ivory, metal, glass, galalith, silk, linen, cotton-covered crochet, lead, snap fasteners, enamel, rubber, buckhorn, wood, horn, bone, leather, paper, pressed cardboard, mother-of-pearl, celluloid, porcelain, composition, tin, zinc, xylonite, stone, cloth-covered wooden forms, and papier-mache.  Currently hard plastic, seashell, metals, and wood are the most common materials used in button making and the others only used in premium or antique apparel.  Over 60% of the world’s button supply comes from Qiaotou, Yongjia County, China. 

Historically, buttons have also followed trends in fashion, applied aesthetics and applied visual arts.  Button manufacturers used techniques from jewelry making, ceramics, sculpture, painting, printmaking, metal working, weaving, etc.  Buttons have been decorated with cloisonne’, embroidery, filigree, portraits, enamel, open-metal work, and hundreds of other ways to make them not only functional clothing wear, but also mini works of art.  Structurally, buttons can be attached by a shank, a stud, snap fasteners, magnets, or have holes on the surface which can be sewn through.  There are buttons called toggles.  These are stick like buttons, with a cord attached at the center.  They are passed endways through a hole and then rotated sideways.  Some buttons are made from fabric, such as covered buttons. However, the Mandarin button (or frogs) are knobs made of intricately knotted strings and are closed with loops.  There are also worked or cloth buttons which are created by embroidering or crocheting tight stitches (usually with linen thread) over a knob or ring (called a form).  Dorsett buttons, handmade from the 17^th century to 1750 and Death head buttons are of this type. 

So much for the history of the button.  At this point, you’re probably thinking, “Great.  We have buttons.  All kinds of buttons for all kinds of purposes.  But are they really that special, and if they are what makes them so special?”  Well…the Victoria and Albert Museum believe that buttons hold cultural, historical, political, and artistic significance.  This wonderful British museum houses a vast collection of buttons in their jewelry collection.  So does America’s Smithsonian.  Hammond Turner and Sons, a button-making company in Birmingham, hosts an online museum with an image gallery and historical button-related articles, including an 1852 article on button-making by none other than Charles Dickens.  In the United States, large button collections are on display at the Waterbury Button Museum of Waterbury, Connecticut and the Keep Homestead Museum of Monson, Massachusetts, which also hosts an extensive button archive and in Gurnee, Illinois, at The Button Room. 

But….what if I told you that the button…the common, cute, button has a surprisingly semi-scandelous past?

We know buttons didn’t appear until almost 5,000 years ago.  This particular button was made of a curved shell.  Most of the buttons used during this time didn’t appear in nice, straight rows.  Nope.  They were used here and there – no rhyme or reason – as sartorial flourishes.  Along with brooches, buckles, and straight pins, buttons were used in Ancient Rome as decorate closures for flowing garments.  However…the buttons didn’t work perfectly (as did none of the other options).  When a Roman person tried to support yards of cloth at a single point, the buttons used were took architectural heft and were made of bone, horn, bronze, or wood.  Some Roman clothing designers would opt for knotting the fabric securely into position, then topped the knot off with a purely ornamental button. 

It is also worth noting the Mycenaeans of the Roman era invented the fibula – a surprising modern forerunner to our safety pin.  The design was lost with them until it re-emerged in mid-19^th century America. 

All of this button finagling finally brought the button into the arena of its “sort of sexy” past during the Middle Ages.  Granted we don’t normally look at something like this

And think, “Gee…that’s kind of attractive.

But folks did during the Middle Ages – especially among the wealthy.  Around the middle of the eleventh century, clothes began to be made so close-fitting that they followed the lines of the body from the shoulders to the hips like a glove (Carl Kohler, A History of Costume).  Buttons helped with that snug fit along.  This didn’t mean clothes were cut more sparingly; wealthy people still liked the costly display of excess fabric.  But, on both men’s and women’s clothes, buttons helped accentuate the lines of the arm and bustline.  As a matter of fact, so many buttons were used, sumptuary laws were written to restrict their use. 

During the Middle Ages, buttons came in all shapes and sizes, but most of them had a shank.  Folks during this time preferred the shank because use of the shank meant the face of the button could be decorated freely.  The more expensive the button’s decoration, the more they were worth.  Wearing lots of buttons during this time meant money.  Franco Jacassi, reputed the world’s biggest button-collector, describes the Middle Ages as a time when you could pay off a debt by plucking a precious button from whatever you were wearing.  Italians still describe the rooms where powerful leaders met as stanze dei bottoni, or “rooms of the buttons.”

On women’s clothing particularly, buttons traced the body’s lines in all kinds of suggestive ways, making clothes tight in all the right placing or (a-hem) offering intriguing points of entry.  Along with ribbons, laces, or bows, buttons were often used on detachable sleeves, a fad which ran from the 13^th to 15^th centuries.  These sleeves could easily be swapped between outfits and laundered whenever they got dirty.  Courtiers might accept an unbuttoned sleeve from a lady as a love token or wave sleeves in jubilation at a jousting tournament. 

After the Renaissance in Europe, buttons, along with most things, became increasingly baroque, then rococo.  Among the most extreme examples were “habitat” buttons, built to contain keepsakes like dried flowers, hair cuttings, or tiny insects under glass.  Buttons were also hollowed out and allowed thieves to transport jewels and other booty secretly (a crime which was revived in a buttons-for-crime heroin-smuggling attempt in 2009). 

America finally entered the “buttons are for so much more than just holding your clothes on your body” phase around 1789 when George Washington’s inauguration gave the world its first political button.  Made of copper, brass, or Sheffield plate, these buttons could close a pair of pants or a jacket while simultaneously announcing the wearer’s politics.  Political buttons took on a more recognizably modern (and less functional) shape during Lincoln’s 1864 re-election campaign.  Buttons also were produced to announce his death and were on many mourning clothes during that time. 

However, it’s worth noting that buttons, like many items produced for those who could afford them, also have a shady past, too.  Folks who couldn’t afford the nice buttons for mourning or celebrations still wanted them.  But instead of purchasing them from a shop or button vendor, they had to craft them laboriously by hand. 

In Colonial America until the early 20^th century, working-class families counted themselves lucky if they had a hand-held button mold.  The mold was heated in a bed of hot coals, then filled with molten lead or pewter, which set into a button shape.  The sturdy metal buttons could then be covered with fabric or other cheaper embellishments. 

Extra buttons made at home could also be sold, which meant button-making could be hellish piecework.  Playwright Henrik Ibsen channeled his own awful memories of home button-molding in a pivotal scene in Peer Gynt.  Sent to fetch Gynt’s soul, the Button-Molder explains how the very good and very bad go to heaven and hell, but the middling-good are “merged in the mass” and poured into purgatory, an undifferentiated molten stream.  Charles Dickens, in an article from Household Words, welcomes the “miracle” of automated button manufacturing.  The writer describes how engravers cut steel dies into the latest fashionable shape, while women and children stamped out pasteboard and cloth to cover the buttons by machine.  Another machine stamped out the four holes which were becoming popular for men’s dress shirts, while another was used to “countersink” the button, pressing its center to form a raised outer ridge.

Just like with sewing machines (see this blog: https://sherriquiltsalot.com/2023/09/13/the-sewing-machine-renaissance-part-i/), a rash of patents soon clogged the patent office.  These patents protected nearly every aspect of button-making, from manufacturing methods for glass or mother-of-pearl buttons to cheaper wire buttons.  Even the button display cards were patented, and every improvement – either to the button or the display – brought around another file full of patents. 

However, don’t think that all this mass production of buttons slowed down the manufacturing of special and ornamental ones.  If you know anything about the various meanings behind flowers, the Victorian “Tussie-Mussie” buttons may be of interest. 

These buttons pictured tiny bouquets of flowers which held symbolic messages.  After King Albert’s death, Queen Victoria donned mourning buttons of carved black jet, kicking off a fashion among bereaved button-wearers. 

Once buttons became cheap enough to produce en masse, buttons by the hundreds lined most kinds of tight-fitting clothing, including shoes.  More buttons, closely spaced, gave the wearer the tightest fit.  But this fashion also presented a problem. Fingers were not very adept at fastening rows of closely-spaced buttons in tight, closely-spaced buttonholes.  The solution was the invention of a tool called the buttonhook.  This device looked like a crochet hook and could draw tiny, closely-spaced buttons through tight, closely-spaced buttonholes quickly. 

Today, despite the fact we have zippers and Velcro, the buttons are still used in clothing.  Buttons are dependable.  Zippers can jam, warp, or break.  Velcro (when used on clothing) is itchy and stiff.  And if it gets tangled with threads and other debris, it won’t stay fastened.  Hooks and eyes and snaps can be awkward to fasten and unfasten.  Buttons are easier.  And if the thread breaks and they have to be replaced, it’s a lot easier to sew on a new button than it is to replace a zipper. 

So now that you probably know more about buttons than you ever wanted to, you have to be asking yourself how this:

Came from this:

Our Grilled Cheese and Wine Club. 

The information Janet sent me definitely piqued my interest in buttons.  During my research I found out that buttons were made from shells.  Folks who lived along rivers would harvest these shells (usually freshwater clams). Workers used hollow bits to drill round button blanks from the shells.  

The blanks were sent to button factories, where they were made into finished buttons.  Between 150,000 and 200,000 pounds of shells were used at one button factory in Wisconsin.  The remainer of shells were ground up and used in road construction and as grit for chickens.  When Janet read the article she thought about her own button collection.

If you sew long enough – even if you don’t make garments – you tend to collect buttons.  Women who come from long lines of seamstresses and quilters generally not only have their own buttons, but also their mother’s, grandmother’s, and sometimes even their great-grandmother’s.  These collections can have buttons from shell:

And bone:

Not to mention the basic, plastic shirt buttons.  Generally there are some novelty and fancy ones, too.  Quite often you can purchase jars of antique buttons at antique stores and flea markets.  It’s interesting what you can find in these.  Beside buttons, you may discover old thimbles, rick rack, measuring tape, hooks and eyes, and lace trim. 

Tangible items which connect us with other creators from another place and another time.  Threads of the past which still stitch us together as the people we are today.  Just like old quilts, we can hold these relics in our hands and wonder who had them, where did they come from, and how were they used.  We marvel at both their beauty and their prosaic status as an everyday item.  And in some way, these buttons fasten a comforting thought:  No matter how much things change, it’s good to know that there are things that don’t. 

Buttons are one of those things.

Until Next Week, From My Studio to Yours,

Love and Stitches,

Sherri and Felix.

PS – If you decide to use buttons on your quilt, be sure to add them after the quilt is quilted. Buttons can be difficult to quilt around.

What comes to mind when you think about creativity ?  Paintings?  Music?  Films or plays?   Does quilting come into focus when you think about creativity?  If it doesn’t, it should.  Anyone who has made even one quilt is aware of all the decisions which have to be made – pattern, color, fabric, finish – a half dozen or more choices must be considered with any quilt.  However, I do think it’s worth noting creativity is a precious commodity and can run low at times.  For me, when 2023 ended, my creativity (and my energy and my mood) was at an all-time low.  It was a difficult year workwise, with many hours logged behind a computer.  And it ended on a particularly tough note with the death of one of my cousins.  Then 2024 uploaded no favors with mom having health issues and the unexpected death of a nephew – all before the middle of January. 

My creativity and  my desire to be creative and my yearning to produce anything creative were really non-existent.  I was tired.  My brain was tired.  I was seriously considering hibernating for most of February.  But fate, high power — call it whatever you want – intervened.  My guild’s first guest speaker for the New Year talked about creativity.  The Letter from the Editor in January’s American Quilter dealt with creativity.  And with all these signs pointing to ways to keep your creativity intact, I wanted to know two things:  How to massage mine back to life and if there were activities you could walk yourself through to keep away the burn out.

The first piece of information I discovered was that there are different types of creativity.  We tend to think of creativity under the umbrella of the arts – singing, dancing, painting, sculpting, drawing, etc.  There are actually four types of creative intelligence:  Deliberate and Cognitive, Deliberate and Emotional, Spontaneous and Cognitive, and Spontaneous and Emotional.  Deliberate and Cognitive creators are folks like inventors, such as Thomas Edison. These people can think through a plan and come up with a way to make it work to fill a need (theirs or someone else’s or the general populous).  Deliberate and Emotional creators are individuals who thrive on “A-ha” moments.  So these are the folks who research and try ideas and then finally something clicks, and it works.  They see the light, everything comes together, and it’s truly a “A-ha now I understand” moment.  They don’t mind putting in the work for the reward. Spontaneous and Cognitive are people like Isaac Newton who can observe something happening and then immediately connect the dots between that action and the reality of something else.  Spontaneous and Emotional creators are the folks we typically think of as creative – the artists and musicians who tend to wear the cloak of creativity in what is of thought as the normal way.  Quilters generally fall into the Spontaneous and Emotional category – to a degree.

The neat aspect of these four types of creative intelligence is this:  No person has just one type of creative smarts.  Nope.  Everyone has some spark from each of the four.  And to me – the mother of two very logical, engineering type of kids – it means all the mathing they do is just as creative as all the quilting I do.  It’s all beautiful.  You don’t think you have some of each of the creative intelligences in you?  Let me ask a few questions:

• How good does it make you feel when you’ve struggled to figure out some difficult quilting technique or pattern?  Don’t you feel wonderful when that “A-ha” moment happens, and the lightbulb goes off over your head?
• How terrific is it for you when you can make a half yard of fabric do the work of three-quarters of a yard?  Don’t you feel awesome when you can break down a complex quilting pattern into simple terms for yourself or someone else? 
• Isn’t a wonderful feeling when you can look at a picture of an antique quilt or a quilt pattern which is no longer in print and know – sometimes with even the briefest glance – how that quilt was made? 

I imagine, if you’re honest, you enjoy all of the above. None of these have anything to do with design or color or fabric selection – none of the “artsy” things about quilting.  But they’re all types of creative intelligence we have and use in our quilting.

But how do we keep our creativity on point?  It’s wonderful to know the different types of creative intelligence and how they all fit into our quilting world, but how do keep our creativity bubbling freely when we our minds and imaginations feel completely dried out and useless?  When you’re staring at the fabric stash and can’t feel any zing of enjoyment or have no desire to take even the first stitch, how do you cope?  How do you get your mind back into the flow of creating?

For me, the first step was taking a look at my lifestyle.  And I realize that sounds trite.  However, we all have a lot to do.  We wear a lot of “name tags.”  We’re employees or employer.  We’re daughters and sons.  We’re moms and dads and grandmas and grandpas.  We’re sisters and brothers and in-laws and a dozen other things I can’t even begin to name.  Many of us are in the “generation squeeze”:  We still may be dealing with our own children and now our parents need us, too.  Some days it’s hard to take a deep breath, much less be any kind of creative. 

So don’t.   Instead, look at yourself, where you are in life, and determine if any of that is choking the creativity out of you.  Are you facing stressors you weren’t anticipating?  In my case, this was a solid (and loud) yes.  Was this stifling my creativity?  Definitely.

How did I deal with it?  I allowed myself grace.  Usually I write 1,000 words each night, Monday through Friday, plus work on quilt projects.  I gave myself permission to take a couple of weeks away from both.  I was handed a series of events I had to process mentally and emotionally.  They were unplanned and unwanted, but I needed the time and I needed to be with my family – who are far more important than any words or any quilt.  When I returned to my studio and my laptop, I was still a bit shaky and still searching for the right thing to write about, but I did feel better. 

Are your days filled with too many “to do” lists?  Again, my case was a solid (and loud) yes.  I have “to do” lists for my job and “to do” lists for home and “to do” lists for quilting.  Don’t get me wrong.  I like lists.  I am a list maker (obviously).  Lists keep me on track, and they help me make sure I get everything done.  However, lists can also be gruesome taskmasters.  If you don’t feel you can relax at night until everything is crossed off your lists or let the lists dictate when and if you can spend time being creative, then there is a problem.  Keep in mind that a list is a bit like a budget.  Both are wonderful tools.  One manages money and the other manages time.  And it’s terrific if you can keep both in balance.  However, in the course of life, stuff happens none of us have control over, and nothing too overtly bad will happen if we have to break with either of them.  Try not to overschedule your “to do” lists.  Leave yourself some breathing room.  And, if you need to, tell yourself this:  I cannot be everything to everybody.  Sometimes it’s somebody else’s turn. 

Are you taking care of yourself and allowing time for self-care?  My answer is a solid (and loud) no.  Couldn’t tell you the last time I hit the treadmill.  I was lucky if I remembered to take my vitamins.  We ate out too much.  The years of allowing my lists and responsibilities to sabotage the critical care items I needed for myself were slowly creeping up on me.  I had to figure if I wasn’t taking proper care of myself, how could I possibly maintain the energy to be creative?  Most days after work, all I wanted to do was flop down on the couch and read or watch TV. 

Are you listening too much to the “inner critic?”  This is the imaginary person who lives in the back of our minds and constantly reminds us whatever we’re making isn’t good enough or “so-and-so (insert name of person you think quilts better than you do) wouldn’t have made it that way or made so many mistakes.”  First, let me assure you that you are good enough and your quilt only has to please you.  Listening to your inner critic can really throw a monkey wrench into your creativity.  I learned how to deal with mine a few years ago in of all places, a class on writing.  I took the class to receive the continuing ed hours I needed for my teaching certificate and my instructor was a much older, slightly built woman, white hair neatly pulled back from her face with the pre-requisite glasses perched on her nose.  She looked more like one of my Sunday School teachers back from my childhood than a writer.  However, this lady blew me away.  She had chased her family roots and found out one of her ancestors was a madam and ran a brothel in California during the Goldrush.  She was writing this woman’s biography. One of the students in the class asked how difficult was it for her to do this?  What was the hardest part?

“The hardest part,” she replied, “is shutting up that voice in the back of my mind which tells me every day how much my mother would not approve of such topics.”  To get that voice to shut up, she physically would take a chair, set it outside her office door, and invite the inner critic to take a seat and wait outside while she was writing.

So I tried it.  It worked.  The inner critic stays outside my quilt studio pretty well. 

This last point is one I really want to spend some time on because I feel this one impacts more quilters than even stress:  Are you in a creative rut?  Do you feel like you’re making the same thing over and over again?  Do you feel like all of your quilts look too similar or use too many of the same colors?  Do you want to make something different – something new and exciting but just can’t seem to pull it together to do that?  I could throw out some suggestions such as have a good quilting friend pick out your next pattern and fabrics.  I could ask you to sketch out what you believe is your ideal quilt and make it.  I could tell you to take walks (which are helpful), take pictures, enlarge the pictures on your screen, and take in the details and the colors.

But I won’t.

Instead I will offer three pragmatic suggestions which work well and aren’t quite as drastic.

• When you feel like your quilt isn’t working – whether it’s in the middle of a block, center construction, or the quilting – take a break.  Get up.   Walk away.  Go do something mundane.  Wash the dishes.  Fold a load of laundry.  Take a nap. Walk the dog. Do something which takes very little brain energy.  Often when we pop our brain into a neutral gear, the subconscious takes over and solves our problem for us.  I can’t tell you how many times I’ve walked out of my studio in the middle of a quilty problem, gone to bed, and the next morning the answer came to mind immediately.  I think our brains sometimes need a vacation from the ”rut,” too. 
• Meditate.  In meditation, you sit with your thoughts and try to detach from them. Or you sit and focus on one specific thing, like your breathing or a mantra, that will help to move you away from your racing thoughts.  I find that focusing on my breathing is the best remedy for me.

I do a counting meditation where I count my breaths from 1 to 10, then 2 to 10, and then 3 to 10, and so on. When I get to just 10, I start over from the beginning. For me, this specific meditation requires enough attention to the sequence that (for the most part) I’m able to let go of the other thoughts in my head.

If I do find myself going back to the thoughts in my head, once I recognize what I’m doing, I let them go and return to counting.

But meditation does more than just help you get to sleep. It actually improves your creativity because it stimulates the neocortex, which is the part of the brain involved in creative thinking and problem-solving.

• Try something creative that’s not in your wheelhouse.  In other words, step away from the fabric.  Pick up a pencil and some paper and sketch.  Refinish a piece of furniture.  My current favorite creative-but-not-quilting activity is adult coloring books and knitting.  Those still use the same parts of the brain, but the actions and methods are different.  My very favorite creative-but-not-quilting activity is working with my youngest granddaughter.  She’s becoming quite the artist and we have a good time drawing together.  These different but still creative activities somehow can jumpstart the quilting part of us again.  Maybe we relax because these are new activities which means we have nothing to prove, and this jump starts out quilting mojo again.

Rick Rubin, in his wonderful The Creative Act: A Way of Being shared some great insights into creativity.

1.  Creativity is not just about the final product, but about the process of exploration and discovery.
2. The creative process requires a willingness to take risks and embrace the unknown, balancing structure and spontaneity, discipline and hard work.
3. True creativity  requires both vulnerability and authenticity.
4. The creative process is a continual process of experimentation and refinement to challenge conventional thinking and break rules.
5. Creativity is about connecting with one’s deepest self and expressing that truth. Embrace your perspective and voice.
   In closing, I think it’s important to remember, that while our creativity is indeed a precious commodity, it’s also organic.  It can ebb and flow.  It can be fed and revived.  It must be taken care of like it’s a living, breathing soul.

So this week, even if you don’t put a stitch into anything, feed your creativity. 

Until next week, From My Studio to Yours,

Love and Stitches,

Sherri and Felix