Those Captivating Antique Quilts

There’s something completely unique and precious about old quilts.  It was an old quilt which led me to quilters and finally quilt making. 

It’s my great-grandmother’s quilt. It’s quite utilitarian and to hear my mother speak of it, Great-Grandma Annie would be mortified anyone still had it.  According to family who still remember her, this quilt was made solely for the purpose of keeping her family warm while they lived in a small house near the textile mills of Eden and Spray, North Carolina.  The backing and batting are wool blanket scraps.  The thing is enormously heavy, but it would definitely keep you snug as a bug during the cold winters.  Machine pieced and hand quilted with something akin to kitchen twine in a Baptist fan pattern, this was not her best work. The quilting stitches are large, and it was pieced with fabric scraps in a kind of Chinese coin pattern.   It was made quickly so it would be ready to go as the temperatures began to drop in the late fall. 

Still, it’s precious to me.  Those fabric scraps tell a story of a family dealing with the Great Depression and a woman who used what she had to keep her family warm.  And perhaps the greatest gift in all of this was when my mother pointed out scraps that were from her school dresses, her grandfather’s shirts, great-grandma’s apron, or her mother’s Sunday dress.  I think, with varying degrees, all quilters hold somewhat of a fascination with old quilts.  There’s something kind of awe inspiring about holding the quilt of a quilter who lived years ago and hearing the story that textile can tell.  They hold many secrets – secrets that tell how the quilt was designed and how it was made.  I also think our ideas of what makes a good quilt and older quilt makers’ ideas of what makes a good quilt, are very different. 

Typically a quilt can be called an “antique” if it’s 100 years old.  So the quilts made in the 1920’s are now officially antiques.  During that 100-year (or more) span, both design and technique have drastically changed.  In the nineteenth century, design was more spontaneous, and technique was more direct – that is, there were fewer steps in making a quilt. For instance, let’s take this red and green applique quilt as an example:

If we were making this quilt today, great care would probably be given in the selection of fabric.  Even if we were making it scrappy, we would pay attention to the greens – not too blue green, not too limey – they would have to fall within a range.  Same with the reds – not too orange-y, not too pink, no blue undertones.  We may opt for the background to be all the same fabric or strategically scrappy – one or two cuts of different fabrics, not a mish-mosh of a lot of the same colors and tones. 

Then what about technique?  Do we needle turn or use freezer paper?  Prepared edge?  Apliquik?  Back basting?  Or do we applique by machine?  Once the background blocks were cut out, we would find the centers by marking the squares with lines in the middle from top to bottom, left to right, and then across both diagonals.  We may trace the pattern via use of a light box to the front of the background block and then carefully place our applique shapes on them.  We may thread or glue baste them into place.

All of this before we took the first stitch.  I often say I really love to applique, but sometimes the whole prepping process wears me out.

Nineteenth century quilters didn’t do much or any of this.  I guarantee you’ll find no freezer paper in their quilts (however, studies have shown they did have access to a rudimentary basting glue). 

In this blog, I’d like to dwell on three areas of quilting which seem to have changed the most over the years, and (at least to me) gives old quilts their charm:  fabric substitution, free placement of shapes, and piecing the patches.

FABRIC SUBSTITUTION

We all have experienced the following scenario:  We’re buzzing through our quilt blocks.  Everything is cut out and we’re sewing away.  Seams are matching, the applique is lovely, and our quilting life is just great.  And then…suddenly, somehow, some way, we’re short of fabric.  It may not be by much, maybe less than an eighth of a yard, but we’re short.  We calm our nerves and either A) make a quick trip to our local quilt or fabric store to purchase more or B) go to the online site where we ordered the fabric.  If we’re able to order or buy more, it’s great!

But what if we’re not?

Those of you who have followed my blog for a while know I’ve talked about this situation firsthand, because I, too, have made my fair share of cutting mistakes.  I get on Etsy or Ebay or Google to see where I can find more of the needed fabric.  I ask quilting friends.  I make announcements at my local quilt guild or online quilting groups.  Nine times out of ten, I usually find what I’m looking for. 

But there’s always the one time it can’t be found.  And then what do you do?  Do you make your quilt smaller?  Redesign the layout?  Put it on point?  There are certainly options – but most of the time nineteenth century quilters didn’t exercise any of those.  They simply found a substitute fabric and threw it in the mix.  They quite often didn’t have the option of purchasing any additional fabric.  They had to roll with what they had.  So they usually tried to find something in the same color family, but not always.  Sometimes the substitute fabric could vary drastically.  Regardless, they used fabric substitution with regularity and impunity.  If they ran out of fabric, they used the next best fabric to complete the quilt.  This is usually seen on pieced quilts, but it was also used on applique ones as well.  Personally I think fabric substitution adds greatly to the interest of a quilt.  Using a slightly different tone of the same color creates a subtle illusion of depth and movement.  Even tiny differences can hold the viewer’s attention longer and that can be the sign of a good quilt (Gwen Martson, “My How Things Have Changed”, McCall’s Vintage Quilts, Spring 2004).

When you examine fabric substitutions in old quilts, it’s important to keep in mind a few ideas.  First, you will see quilts where the majority of the blocks are made with the predominate fabrics and those which use fabric substitutions are placed along one side.  Quite often quilters would use substitute fabrics to finish the quilt, but strategically place those blocks in the part of the quilt which wouldn’t be seen as often, such as the side of the bed which faced a wall, or the foot of the bed, which may be hidden by a chest, footboard, or other piece of furniture.  Second, the pre-1940 Midwestern Amish quilts show even they used fabric substitutions.  Quite often they used black as their backgrounds, but a close examination of those quilts can reveal lots of various black fabrics used. 

Finally the third concept (and this point can help date a quilt) are fugitive dyes.  Prior to the mid-nineteenth century, fabric dyes were made from natural ingredients. The process could sometimes be long and arduous, and quite often the colors produced from the dyes could fade or even completely change color over time.  The first color-fast, safe, synthetic dye wasn’t invented until 1856 (and it was mauve).  One of the colors of pre-1856 dyes most affected by time and element exposure was green.*  Often it would fade to a light tan or brown or lime-green.  This means some of the fabric substitutions on those lovely green and red quilts we love so much may become blatantly apparent over time, as some of the greens change color while others remain green.  This dye-fact aside, most nineteenth century red and green quilts have color substitutions.  You may see several red and green fabrics used.  I personally like this technique and use it in my own applique quilts. 

FREE PLACEMENT OF SHAPES

For me, the best old quilt is an applique quilt because I love applique.  Today, when either I teach an applique class or I take one, the placement of applique shapes is emphasized.  They must stay within a boundary.  They must be precisely centered (or as close to precise as you can get).  To do this, you may want to make a plastic overlay, trace the pattern onto your background fabric, or use a light box. 

Nineteenth century applique quilters were having none of this.  Most of those quilts demonstrate placement by eye.  There appears to have been far less concern about precision placement than there is today.  Once the shapes were cut out, they were positioned on the background by eye with more, and sometimes less, care.  This is an example of the more direct technique I referred to earlier.  Today placement has become more complicated, requiring more steps, more time, and more tools.  If you examine these antique appliqued beauties, you’ll note there is variation in the amount of irregularity from quilt to quilt and sometimes from quilter to quilter.  Some of these quilts are quite precise and some are very relaxed.  However, if you study even the most precise nineteenth century quilt, you’ll notice variations exist.

These variations – both minute and obvious – are what makes these quilts so interesting.  If every applique block was exactly the same, you would only have to examine one block to comprehend the quilt.  Variations make each block an adventure, each one a new book waiting to be read.  They make each block an open invitation to explore every square inch of the quilt. 

PIECING THE PATCHES

We are used to piecing blocks.  Nineteenth century quilters pieced blocks, too, but they also pieced some of the patches (you may find this technique is some antique applique quilts, too).  This phenomenon was American ingenuity at its finest.  Out of necessity, when quilters found themselves running short of fabric, they would stitch together fabric until it was large enough to cut the needed patches for their quilts.  And to be completely honest, I have also employed this technique.  When I quilt a quilt with pieced patches, I tend to quilt more heavily over the pieced patches to “hide” the seam. 

But necessity aside, this is actually a wonderful way to add interest and energy to a quilt.  It has a similar effect as fabric substitution in that it provides depth, movement, and surprise.  Depending on your taste, you can use this to a greater or lesser extent. 

Quilts, quilters, techniques, and patterns change over time.  We are lucky to have so much available to us now.  We can produce accurate quilt blocks, uniform applique, and neat quilting stitches regularly.  I wonder what those nineteenth-century quilters (and even my own great-grandmother) would say about all of our tools and notions.  What would they do?  Would they embrace them with the same fervor and excitement we do?  However, something stirs me when I look at my antique quilts.  They are beautiful and charming in their own unique way.  And as I marvel at their ingenuity, a part of me wants to simplify my quilting life.  Do I really need five types of marking tools?  Do I need six pairs of scissors?  Maybe…just maybe these early  quilts and quilters have more to teach us than fabric substitution, placement of shapes, and piecing the patches.

Until Next Week–

Love and Stitches,

Sherri and Felix

*Scheele’s green was a color-fast dye, and it was actually discovered in 1775.  However, one of its components was copper arsenic.  Paris green was developed in 1814 by Wilhelm Dye and White Lead Company and it also contained arsenic.  Highly popular, both colors were used in everything from children’s clothing to wallpaper to upholstery fabric.  It appeared almost everywhere and at the height of its popularity, it was even found in the White House.  But as expected, people – especially those involved in the manufacturing process – got sick and many people died.  Once folks put two and two together, the color green quickly fell out of favor and really didn’t re-gain it’s foothold in the American fabric industry until the development of the mint-y green found in 1930’s fabric and feedsacks.