Homage to the Original

As charming as many of the newer version of the classic Bird of Paradise quilt are, they stray very far from the original in both intent and style. Since my initial introduction to quilting was through the very old favorites from museums such as the Metropolitan in NYC, I haven't completely adjusted to newer styles or colors or even methods of construction. Many magazines show photos of quilts described as modern that simply leave me cold. Often quilts that are more old-fashioned in detail of applique then have machine quilting to the point of distraction for me.

Quilting isn't the only aspect of my life that is old-fashioned. My husband and I are old and old-fashioned in many respects. That doesn't mean we are stodgy necessarily, so when the fellow turned to me in the parking garage when I opened my trunk and said,  You don't usually see someone your age driving a car like that," I laughed. Why wouldn't I have a sports car? I don't have children or grandchildren depending on me for rides and I definitely don't want a "mom" car.

So as my husband and I are planning yet another remodel, this time on a house that hasn't been worked on except for electricity and plumbing in 40 years but that is an architect designed space from the turn of the last century not this one, we are flummoxed by the questions asked by the cute young woman who is the initial representative of the design firm though she is not the designer nor the architect. "Do you still want that formal dining room or can we remove this wall and open up the space more?" "Can we move the dining room from where it is to this much smaller space in the far corner of the house so that we can open up the kitchen, breakfast and laundry areas?"  Those ideas may appeal to most buyers but we won't be remodeling this place to sell but to live in. Besides that, one of the main reasons for moving yet again is to have more space to hang the art we already own and perhaps add pieces to our collection. Once the walls start coming down, the space for art disappears. Opening up the living room to the kitchen may be the modern way but it spreads the mess which cooking is--not the ingredients but the smuts of grease and gas and aroma making it hard to protect the art and the fabric, including the quilts on display, from being damaged.

So in that spirit I re-post some photos of my version of an American quilt classic that I made more than ten years ago. This is not The Civil War Bride quilt, as cute and romantic as that may sound or be. No one really knows for sure who made this American original. She never finished it and certainly didn't sign her unfinished work. There are some hints about the woman whose photograph often appears with the photographs of the original but there is no proof that she is the creator. Who made the top matters far less than the care she took to build her own ideas, not copy the quilts of the period. Having drawn the blocks out from the original Whitney museum photos, I grew to appreciate and understand that person more. All the modern versions are nice, some are pretty and some are cute, but none has the vision of the original. Most of the modern versions make the same shape for all of the leaves whether they are rose leaves or chestnut leaves, something the original artist did not do. My bed is from about the same time frame as the original so makes a fitting space to display my version. It's not an exact copy but it is quite close and it is my homage to the person who made this marvelous top with its animals and fruits and what I interpret as her version of the "grotteschi" of many European interiors.