QIP
The quilt in progress is a restoration job, which we've named Grey Lady Down:
Like so many of my repair jobs, this is a double wedding ring quilt. Circa 1950, with a colored background. Double wedding ring quilts are almost always multi-color patchwork against white backgrounds; to find a color background is rare. Of these, pastel blue, green, yellow and pink are the most common backgrounds. I've personally never seen one with a gray background before this one; not even in quilt history books.
Grey Lady Down came to me as a real mess. Three fist-sized holes through the quilt, patchwork shredded and/or hanging loose, amateur repair work, quilting stitched popped all over the piece. And the smell. Someone shoved this in a garage or an airless attic, where it soaked up that always-delightful Eau de Neglect.
The first step was to get rid of the stink, so I carefully hand washed the piece and let it soak in a little Woolite and vinegar. Vinegar, btw, will neutralize the worst smells you can imagine. I dried it on a line out of direct sunlight and then spread it out on the porch table to assess the work.
Lots of restitching and repatching to do. Some of the flimsier blue calico patches had disintegrated. I'd need to replace four large sections of background to repair holes where the fabric, batting and foundation had been torn out. Whoever tried to repair the quilt whip-stitched long sections of raw ends together with red and yellow sewing thread, and as a result they were fraying all to hell. The binding, also rotted and torn, had to be completely replaced.
Even with the repairs, Grey Lady Down would never be a museum piece. The original maker had used two different gray fabrics for her background pieces, and they had faded differently. The stitching was primitive; 4 to 5 spi (stitched per inch) in some places, 2 to 3 spi in others. Her uneven stitching was too long on the bottom and too shallow on the top -- the main reason her quilting had popped all over the piece; inadequate anchoring -- and was erratic.
Then there were her color choices. I am not a fan of yellow, and this quilt was covered with yellow patchwork (still intact). She used the yellow around all her ring intersections, too. The color was blinding and completely inappropriate for a gray background. I think she was trying to liven it up, but ugh. And there was too much yellow in the quilt for me to replace it all. Out of respect for the maker, I like to leave as much original work intact as I can.
If I fixed it, she'd have to be a keeper.
On the plus side, the quilt was marvelously soft. The backing; a solid light gray cotton, had weathered the neglect and aged wonderfully. There is a feel to old quilts that you can't duplicate with today's fabrics. I felt a certain reluctant admiration for the maker, too. Here was a woman who had few quilting skills and yet took on hand-piecing and quilting an advanced pattern. She was such a renegade she used a mourning color for the background and then threw sunshine yellow all over it. That and someone who had even less skills than the maker had tried to repair it.
Rare color aside, this quilt had meant something to at least two women. That was what really made it worth saving. So up she went on the repair rack, and I got to work.
Like so many of my repair jobs, this is a double wedding ring quilt. Circa 1950, with a colored background. Double wedding ring quilts are almost always multi-color patchwork against white backgrounds; to find a color background is rare. Of these, pastel blue, green, yellow and pink are the most common backgrounds. I've personally never seen one with a gray background before this one; not even in quilt history books.
Grey Lady Down came to me as a real mess. Three fist-sized holes through the quilt, patchwork shredded and/or hanging loose, amateur repair work, quilting stitched popped all over the piece. And the smell. Someone shoved this in a garage or an airless attic, where it soaked up that always-delightful Eau de Neglect.
The first step was to get rid of the stink, so I carefully hand washed the piece and let it soak in a little Woolite and vinegar. Vinegar, btw, will neutralize the worst smells you can imagine. I dried it on a line out of direct sunlight and then spread it out on the porch table to assess the work.
Lots of restitching and repatching to do. Some of the flimsier blue calico patches had disintegrated. I'd need to replace four large sections of background to repair holes where the fabric, batting and foundation had been torn out. Whoever tried to repair the quilt whip-stitched long sections of raw ends together with red and yellow sewing thread, and as a result they were fraying all to hell. The binding, also rotted and torn, had to be completely replaced.
Even with the repairs, Grey Lady Down would never be a museum piece. The original maker had used two different gray fabrics for her background pieces, and they had faded differently. The stitching was primitive; 4 to 5 spi (stitched per inch) in some places, 2 to 3 spi in others. Her uneven stitching was too long on the bottom and too shallow on the top -- the main reason her quilting had popped all over the piece; inadequate anchoring -- and was erratic.
Then there were her color choices. I am not a fan of yellow, and this quilt was covered with yellow patchwork (still intact). She used the yellow around all her ring intersections, too. The color was blinding and completely inappropriate for a gray background. I think she was trying to liven it up, but ugh. And there was too much yellow in the quilt for me to replace it all. Out of respect for the maker, I like to leave as much original work intact as I can.
If I fixed it, she'd have to be a keeper.
On the plus side, the quilt was marvelously soft. The backing; a solid light gray cotton, had weathered the neglect and aged wonderfully. There is a feel to old quilts that you can't duplicate with today's fabrics. I felt a certain reluctant admiration for the maker, too. Here was a woman who had few quilting skills and yet took on hand-piecing and quilting an advanced pattern. She was such a renegade she used a mourning color for the background and then threw sunshine yellow all over it. That and someone who had even less skills than the maker had tried to repair it.
Rare color aside, this quilt had meant something to at least two women. That was what really made it worth saving. So up she went on the repair rack, and I got to work.
posted by SKelly at
1:31 PM
