So who wants this book??

I wrote earlier this week about a book, "Erica Wilson's Quilts of America," which captures both the good and the bad of quilting in the late 70s.  Even the conventions of showing quilts in a book have changed -- this one doesn't tell the dimensions, let alone the materials or techniques.

Several of the prizewinning quilts were of a genre that I really hate: the multi-block depiction of a city or region's buildings and historical events.  This format is so marginal that you see it only in quilts or painted on floodwalls or underpasses in bad neighborhoods.  It does nothing for me, but myriads of community groups apparently think this is the cat's pajamas.

I like to think of this book it as grounds for rejoicing: boy, have we come a long way in the last four decades!

But why would anybody want to keep this book on her shelf?  Perhaps if you were a historian of recent quilt art, or of feminism, you would like this as documentation of an important time in art history.  Perhaps if you or your aunt had a quilt in the show!  (Although my brief google expedition found few of the prizewinners still active, at least as far as the web is concerned; Jinny Beyer and Chris Wolf Edmonds were the only two names I recognized.  Joan Schulze, who I think is the same person who became a wonderful fiber artist, was a finalist, losing out in California to a pale depiction of a windmill.)

I'd love to give this book away to somebody who would appreciate it.  Leave me a comment as to why you might want it, and next week I'll send it to the most worthy applicant.

More about the past

I wrote yesterday about the book, "Erica Wilson's Quilts of America," documenting a contest that was held at the American bicentennial.  A few of the winning quilts were distinguished.  The top prizewinner was Jinny Beyer, who went on to fame and fortune as a teacher and author.

Interestingly, many of the photos in the book followed the old-style approach of showing the quilts draped over chairs or otherwise displayed in picturesque settings, rather than just pinned up on a neutral background for photography.  I've written about this trend in the past, because the Modern Quilting folks favor this method of documentation and I don't.  I got beat up bigtime a couple of years ago for suggesting that some of the Modern Quilting types were doing their own work a disservice by portraying it this way.  I thought this was a new and unpleasant trend, but apparently it is an old and unpleasant trend.

So here's the top prizewinner, artfully displayed on a driveway:

Jinny Beyer, Ray of Light

And some other quilts that I thought were interesting, but couldn't tell for sure because I could only see parts of them:

Despite the traditional tone of the entire show, it's clear that quilters in the mid-70s were experimenting with lots of new techniques.  The all-white quilt above was made from polyester knit.  (Reba White, the maker, said it was "a departure from the traditional, but it gave the whole thing a sculptural yet soft, squashy feel.")

The quilt immediately above was one of a genre that came and went in the 70s: a quilt-as-you-go technique in which you sewed one pre-composed strip to a backing fabric, then laid in some stuffing, folded the strip down to cover the stuffing, and sewed the next strip down.  This one, made by Lisa Courtney, looks pretty nifty and I wish I could see the whole thing.

I'll write more about this book tomorrow.

Book from the past

On the floor of my quilt storage room (aka spare bedroom in which nobody could sleep without hours and hours and hours of putting the quilts elsewhere) I found a book that I had previously put in a discard pile. It was so clearly something I would never use, but I did think it might find a home somewhere.

It's "Erica Wilson's Quilts of America," from 1979, documenting the Great Quilt Contest from the bicentennial.  The U.S. Historical Society and the Museum of American Folk Art sponsored a contest to find "one most outstanding quilt" from each of the 50 states.  The winners are all pictured in the book, and what a trip down memory lane it is, especially for those of us who started to get interested in quilts in those olden days.

The book is very much of its time -- it starts with the obligatory essay on the history of quilts in America, explaining the difference between piecing, applique and quilting, and trotting out all the old faithfuls like Harriet Powers' Bible quilt, crazy quilts, white whole-cloth quilts, austere Amish patterns, album/autograph quilts, yoyos, Grandmother's flower gardens, log cabins and anything else you can probably name.  And it ends with directions and patterns so you can do your own Hawaiian applique or cathedral windows, ruched edges, Seminole piecing and many other novelty quilt techniques.  No rotary cutters yet, and you're advised to cut your templates from folded paper.

But the best part is in the middle, with the 51 winning quilts (including DC).  They remind me of how what we would call contemporary or art quilting was still very much in the future.  Many of the winners were pure traditional patterns, and to my eye perfectly acceptable but not very distinguished examples of same.  I tried to find images on the internet somewhere, but apparently these quilts were too early to be documented online.  Apologies for the inadequacies of my photos from the book.

I'll write more about the book tomorrow.

Sign of the week

Photo suite 75 -- text fragments

Art reader's digest

Hans Haacke, born in Germany in 1936, is a sculptor, a conceptual artist, and one who has done a great deal of "institutional critique," artwork that deals with the practices of museums and galleries.  His 25-year-old commentary seems prescient.

Hans Haacke, Condensation Cube
















from Hans Haacke, "Museums, Managers of Consciousness," 1986:

The art world as a whole, and museums in particular, belong to what has aptly been called the "consciousness industry." ... I believe the use of the term "industry" for the entire range of activities of those who are employed or working on a freelance basis in the art field has a salutary effect.  With one stroke that term cuts through the romantic clouds that envelop the often misleading and mythical notions widely held about the production, distribution, and consumption of art.  Artists, as much as galleries, museums, and journalists (not excluding art historians), hesitate to discuss the industrial aspect of their activities.  An unequivocal acknowledgement might endanger the cherished romantic ideas with which most art world participants enter the field, and which still sustain them emotionally today.  Supplanting the traditional bohemian image of the art world with that of a business operation could also negatively aggect the marketability of its products and interfere with fundraising efforts.  Those who in fact plan and execute industrial strategies tend, whether by inclination or need, to mystify art and conceal its industrial aspects and often fall for their own propaganda. ...

On the other hand, a new breed has recently appeared on the industrial landscape: the arts managers.  Trained by prestigious business schools, they are convinced that art can and should be managed like the production and marketing of other goods.  They make no apologies and have few romantic hang-ups.  They do not blush in assessing the receptivity and potential development of an audience for their product. As a natural part of their education, they are conversant with budgeting, investment, and price-setting strategies. ...

It is to be expected that the lack of delusions and aspirations among the new art administrators will have a noticeable impact on the state of the industry.  Being trained primarily as technocrats, they are less likely to have an emotional attachment to the peculiar nature of the product they are promoting.  And this attitude, in turn, will have an effect on the type of products we will soon begin to see. ...

Through naivete, need, or addiction to corporate financing, museums are not on the slippery road to becoming public relations agents for the interests of big business and its ideological allies.  The adjustments that museums make in the selection and promotion of works for exhibition and in the way they present them create a climate that supports prevailing distributions of power and capital and persuades the populace that the status quo is the natural and best order of things.  Rather than sponsoring intelligent, critical awareness, museums thus tend to foster appeasement.

----------

Kathy comments:  It's true in our little quilt world, too.  Think of all the pretty, sentimental, safe quilts on display in Paducah, which draws five times as many visitors in one week than Quilt National does all summer.  Paducah, the show that wouldn't jury in a quilt by the previous year's best-in-show winner because it had to do with AIDS, lest the vendors and audiences be upset.