Reflecting on quilts, identity, and ancestral work
Quilt by my great-grandmother, possibly made with the help of my grandmother and friends. c. 1986
Sitting in my chilly office this morning, I spun in my chair to look at a blue and red striped cloth hanging on the wall that I wove the night before. It’s lonely and lacks context, but I hope it will eventually nestle against other strips to form a quilt top. Uniting weaving and quilting practices is a new development in my work, having recently taken a weaving workshop, and I’m eager to learn more so that my skills might one day come close to the height of my design ambitions.
For several years, I’ve been researching quilting as an ancestral practice, reflecting on what it means to engage in a craft that women in my family did for generations before I came to it. It has been as much an exercise in learning about myself as it has been in learning more about them. These women aren’t around anymore to ask questions, and I find myself piecing together snatches of information in the hopes of reconstructing their story. I wonder what kinds of textile items they made, and did they work in groups or alone? What were they thinking about when they came up with the designs? How many generations of women had these skills and how did they learn?
Some questions are answerable. My father can remember his mother and grandmother sewing when he was little, and recalls that my great-grandmother had a group of friends that would come around sometimes and help stitch quilts. I like to imagine them laughing and talking sh*t as they sat around fabric draped over saw horses in the back room of the house.
Appliquéd quilt, by Rosie Lee Tompkins (1936–2006). Quilt begun in 1968 and completed in 1996
Beyond these family recollections, I’ve had to look to broader research on Black American quilting traditions to fill in the gaps. I’ve been especially interested in practices in Arkansas and Louisiana because that’s where my people are from—I was born in Arkansas as well. I’ve read PhD dissertations, books, articles, and blog posts on this topic, gleaning what I can and hungrily soaking up anything that seemed to intersect with pieces of my identity. In the course of this research, I came across the work of Rosie Lee Tompkins (born in Arkansas), who became an immediate favourite of mine. Her work is wild—in the best sense—and uninhibited by conventions. She engaged with pop culture, spirituality, and tradition in a way that, at once, embraced and subverted those things.
Cross quilt, 1985, 76 x 68.5 in, by Sarah Mary Taylor, Yazoo City, Mississippi
Complements, 2022, 167.6 x 155.6 cm, quilt by Ferren Gipson
For my first quilt (not pictured), I worked from a pattern. It was a useful way to learn, but it felt so constraining. I almost felt the constraint physically, like a tightening around my arms and chest that restricted how I wanted—needed—to work. When that project was finished, I quickly abandoned patterns, exploring improvisational designs that let me play and flex. In researching Black quilting traditions, I was intrigued to find that generations of artist-makers had worked in this same freestyle way—the realisation felt like finding out this approach baked into my DNA. Then, I looked at their designs. Checkered patterns and bold, contrasting strips. Places where patterns suddenly deviated or where an off colour was abruptly introduced. These were things I had been doing in my own work on instinct—I saw myself in their work and it was like a spiritual homecoming. Like these women had been wondering when I was going to show up, tapping their feet with crossed arms and ready to tell me what they know.
I dug deeper.
I learned that the basis of many popular designs we find in Black American quilts is a variation on a strip quilt, where strips of fabric are sewn together. The first image I shared by my great-grandmother is one example and the housetop/log cabin pattern below is another. The strips can be large or small—it’s a versatile way of piecing quilts.
"Housetop"—Single-Block "Courthouse Steps” Variation, c. 1945, 80 x 64 in, quilt by Jennie Pettway (1900–1990)
Blue and white woven cloth in “men’s weave,” Peul people, West Africa. Schomburg Center for Research in Black Culture, the New York Public Library
Scholars have made connections between strip quilts and West African textile methods, where weavers would create thin strips on small looms and sew them together to create wider fabrics. It’s possible this technique may have been preserved by enslaved people who passed these styles and methods on. Certain patterns may also have connections to African spirituality. Crosses or circles with crosses may relate to the Kongo cosmogram or the spiritual associations with crossroads. For some makers, the deviating patterns I mentioned earlier related to the idea that evil spirits walked straight lines—disrupting a pattern or making chaotic patterns was believed to throw them off and offer protection.
Sample of bajutapauts from swatchbook carried on the ship De Vrouwe Maria Geertruida, traveling from the Dutch Republic to the Guinea Coast of Africa, 1788. Nationaal Archief 1.05.01.02, no. 179
Colours also hold important meaning—red, white and blue seem to be especially potent. Red can represent power and protection. White seems to be a kind of all-purpose positive colour. Blue is also a colour of protection, as well as healing. Blue is particularly interesting because it was a popular colour in Dutch textiles traded in West Africa. The blue and white plaid fabrics—called “guinea cloth”—seem to have become symbols of power or wealth for Black figures in Kongo but could also indicate the people who were working alongside slave traders to obtain that power. These fabrics were not popular in Europe and it seems that West Africa was the primary market for them. Interestingly—and possibly related—blue and white also shows up in designs for cloths made for enslaved people’s clothing, showing how these colours and patterns carried layered and varied meanings for different audiences. For a more in-depth examination of this topic, I would recommend reading the journal article, “Common Threads: Cloth, Colour, and the Slave Trade in Early Modern Kongo and Angola,” by Cécile Fromont.
Happier than, 2024, 64 x 72 cm, quilt with handwoven cotton and linen top, linen back, hand-stitched with sashiko thread by Ferren Gipson
The above quilt is the first one I’ve completed that combines weaving and quilting, very much bearing in mind Black traditions of strip cloths and quilts. I wove several strips before chopping and piecing them together to make the top. So, returning to the little strip of weaving I mentioned at the beginning of this text, you can now see how it fits into my learnings and art practice. I’ve learned more than I’ve shared here and perhaps that will trickle out with time. I’m still gathering and synthesising information, sorting out what is for me and what is to be shared. I just thought this text would be a nice way of unpicking some of the jumbled threads in my mind.
In other news…
I’m back with another book, babyyyyy! This gorgeous little beaut is The Art Book for Children (US | UK) with my good buddies at Phaidon, and it’s out in May. It’s an updated, expanded, and combined version of their original two-book series published 20 years ago. It provides images and profiles on 60 artists—32 are from the original series written by the brilliant Gilda Williams and Amanda Renshaw, and I had the opportunity to select and write about 28 new artists!
My new additions include Hilma af Klint, Louise Bourgeios, El Anatsui, Basawan, Nam June Paik, Elizabeth Catlett, Jean-Michel Basquiat, Rosa Bonheur, Judy Chicago, Robert Duncanson, Monir Shahroudy Farmanfarmaian, Helen Frankenthaler, Artemisia Gentileschi, Ito Jakuchu, Frida Kahlo, Emily Kame Kngwarreye, Yayoi Kusama, Kerry James Marshall, Georgia O’Keeffe, Meret Oppenheim, Clara Peeters, Faith Ringgold, Amrita Sher-Gil, Amy Sherald, Jaune Quick-to-See Smith, Tarsila do Amaral, Rachel Whiteread, and Yin Xiuzhen.
In old news…
I just realised that I never shared my TED Talk here—oops. Here’s a link, if you haven’t seen it.
Be good, y’all x