Crazy Fads Come and Go But This One Lingers On

 

QUESTION: I have a crazy quilt that once belonged to my great grandmother. It’s been lovingly cared for by her daughter and then her daughter’s daughter, my mother, who’s now getting up in years. When she downsized to move to a retirement home, she gave the crazy quilt to me. I love the intricate designs, but, otherwise, I don’t know much about it. Can you tell me more and perhaps tell me how I can take care of it? It’s in good condition, but I can see that it’s somewhat delicate.

ANSWER: Your crazy quilt is the result a fad that began in the United States nearly a century and a half ago, roughly from 1875 to 1900. As with many country quilts, it became a way for women to use up their extra scraps of cloth or fabric from worn-out clothes. But crazy quilts were also a form of self-expression, much like samplers were a century before. 

Victorian women created crazy quilts like giant jigsaw puzzles, made of irregular pieces of silk, satin, velvet, or plush fabric sewn onto a solid backing of a lighter material, then decorated with embroidery stitches. Many became sentimental diaries stitched with names and legends while others took on the look of nostalgic stitched scrapbooks filled with memorabilia commemorating events, story book characters, garden flowers, even family pets. Women often made them as gifts to a bride or to someone recovering from a severe illness. Others made them in memory of a loved one who had recently passed.

Scraps for these elaborate quilts often came from ball gowns, opera capes, or the parlor curtains. But women could also buy packages of scraps from the Montgomery Ward or Sears Roebuck catalogs. The Singer Sewing Machine Company used crazy quilts as a symbol on their trade cards. Women's magazines of the day offered directions for making crazy quilts as table covers along with patterns for decorating them. Silk manufacturers promoted the use of their scrap waste in making crazy quilts. Magazine publishers also offered booklets on making crazy quilts as premiums in exchange for subscriptions to their periodicals. 

The word crazy in this case actually means irregular, odd, bizarre, strange, or unusual, and perfectly describes these quilts. Some look like a haphazard collection of odd bits of cloth and memorabilia while others are more like abstract works of silk art in shimmering colors reflecting light.

Since crazy quilts are more often tufted rather than quilted, they should be called "throws." Victorian housewives often threw them over parlor tables and pianos, as well as sofas or beds. They were the perfect complement to the ornately carved overstuffed furniture and bric-a-brac of every sort adorning  table tops, etageres, and mantels in the Victorian parlor.

Some historians believe the Victorian crazy quilt may have originated as a result of the popularity of Japanese prints or screens after the Philadelphia Exposition of 1876. Others wonder if their fractured designs may have been taken from the pattern of an uneven pavement or cracked ice, a popular decorative border used from the late 1870s through the 1880s.

Likewise, women often copied the patterns painted and embroidered on crazy quilts from Japanese ones. Many crazy quilts display a cranes standing in pools of water, owls and peacocks perched on gnarled tree branches, kimono clad figures, butterflies and cherry blossoms, hanging lanterns and spider webs. 

And since not every woman was artistically talented, makers of crazy quilts could purchase pre-stamped patches or would trace designs from magazines. The Ladies Home Journal offered as a premium to readers bringing in 16 new subscribers a “Crazy Patchwork Outfit,” consisting of 12 pre-stamped pieces of silk, one box of stamping powder, twelve skeins of embroidery silk, and a glittering array of two dozen spangles and two yards of tinsel cord.

Women's magazines also offered how-to instructions for the three basic embroidery stitches---the outline, Kensington, and plush. The outline stitch, also known as the stem stitch, formed a thread line as in a drawing. The Kensington stitch enabled crazy quilt makers to fill in their outlines using various colors. And the plush stitch produced areas of cut silk thread like a pile carpet. 

Quilt makers used embroidery stitches not only along the edges of patches to decorate them and at the same time hold the edges under and in place but also to make designs. Those who lacked embroidery skills could purchase pre-embroidered appliques. Some crazy quilt makers further embellished their creations with painted designs on the fabric after they assembled their quilts. Sequins, beads, spangles, metallic braid, and ribbon were also popular forms of embellishment.

Crazy quilts aren’t as durable as regular quilts. They won’t survive daily folding and shouldn’t be used as throws where they’ll be handled a lot. But they can be mounted on a frame or encased in plexiglass and hung on a wall. Both dry cleaning and wet cleaning damages them, so the only safe way of cleaning them is to use a low power vacuum held well away from the fabric which has been covered with some sort of mesh screening—an old window screen will do—to prevent the fabric from being sucked up and damaged.

Unlike regular quilts, women who made crazy quilts usually signed them. Many have been passed down through generations in a family.

Prices for crazy quilts range from $50 for an average small one to as much as $1,000 for a large exceptionally stitched one. Because their prices are relatively low in comparison with fine 19th-century quilts, many most likely remain hidden away in attic trunks waiting to be discovered.

For more information on caring for old quilts, read “Caring for Antique Quilts” in #TheAntiquesAlmanac. 

To read more articles on antiques, please visit the Antiques Articles section of my Web site.  And to stay up to the minute on antiques and collectibles, please join the over 30,000 readers by following my free online magazine, #TheAntiquesAlmanac. Learn more about "The Sparkling World of Glass" in the 2021 Winter Edition, online now. And to read daily posts about unique objects from the past and their histories, like the #Antiques and More Collection on Facebook.

An American Tradition

QUESTION: My grandmother always had several hooked rugs on the floors in her house. I grew up playing on them and grew to love them. As an adult, I’ve learned how to make them and have purchased several antique ones. But no one seems to know anything about antique hooked rugs, other than approximately when they were made. Can you tell me more about these beautiful old rugs? I’d love to know how rug hooking began and how it got to where it is today.

ANSWER: The making of hooked rugs dates from New England in the early 19th century. Poor farmers’ wives, in need of some padding on cold dirt floors, began using old fabric scraps no longer suitable for clothing which they cut into strips and pulled through old burlap sacks to create mats for their floors. And while these original rugs were somewhat crude, the women who made them got ideas for improving the process and for decorative patterns from their friends and neighbors.

For centuries the method of pulling loops of colored material through a mesh of open fabric was well known but the settlers who came to America. The technique of pulling up or hooking rag strips and woolen yarns through a woven fabric base proved to be an economical and undemanding method of making floor coverings for drafty homes. Plus the simplicity the simplicity of the hooking process allowed rug makers the freedom to express their individual creativity.

While the craft began earlier in the 19th century, it wasn’t until the 1850s, when jute burlap from the Indies, which lasted longer than earlier materials, came into common use for burlap feed sacks, that rug hooking gained popularity. Women would stretch the empty burlap feed sacks onto a wooden frame, draw a pattern with a charcoal stick, and then draw yarn or thread through the burlap. And while the result was usually artful as well as very practical, it look a long time to make a rug. To make a rug with an intricate pattern took nearly as long as it took to sew a full quilt. 

By the 1860's, the art of making hooked rugs had spread all over New England and as far away as Ohio, Tennessee, and North Carolina.

By 1867, Philena Moxley of Massachusetts had begun stamping patterns of horses, dogs and other animals onto the burlap to allow homemakers to then produce hooked rugs without first sketching a pattern. By the 1870's peddlers were traveling from house to house selling stenciled designs on burlap. It wasn’t long before general storekeepers began selling hooked rug patterns and completed rugs.

Ebenezer Ross enhanced the process of hooked rug making in 1886 with the invention of a mechanical punch-hook in Toledo, Ohio. Prior to that time, rug makers used crochet hooks made of wood, bone, or metal. Ross and his company became a major supplier of the punch-hook in both the eastern and central United States, and by 1891 the company also published a catalog of 56 color-printed patterns. Ross’ catalog stated, "every household has a supply of odds and ends, rags and ravelings which can be woven into articles beauty and utility.”

In 1895 the Montgomery Ward catalog featured patterns that included a Spaniel dog with  lake and mountains in the background.


Rugs depicting ships, landscapes, and people required far more skill than the simpler deigns. Those who were unable to purchase a commercial pattern often relied on a talented family member or friend to  draw the design. One or more family members would then hook the rug.

Because pictorial patterns took longer and required more skill, many rug makers chose, instead, to use floral or geometric patterns.

Floral patterns very often involved combinations of trees, flowers, vines, branches, and leaves. One of the most common featured a bouquet of flowers in the middle surrounded by a vine border. They were frequently produced on commercial patterns following the Civil War and into the1920's and 1930's.

Rug makers usually produced geometric patterns—featuring rectangles, squares, circles, and ovals—freehand. They were as popular as homemade patterns as they were commercial ones.

Still, commercial patterns persisted. Among the many innovators was Edward Sands Frost, a disabled veteran, who sold patterns made from metal stencils to the women of New England and built up a business which flourished into the 20th century.

By 1908, Sears, Roebuck and Company joined the many companies offering patterns with a selection that included a pretty flower design, Arabian horse, a large lion, and two kittens playing on a carpet.

During the 1920's and early 1930's, cottage industries of hooked rug making flourished in sites like Deerfield Industries in Deerfield, Massachusetts, Rosemont Industries in Marion, Virginia, Pine Burr Studio in Apison, Tennessee, and the Spinning Wheel in Asheville, North Carolina.

The popularity of hooked rugs peaked in the 1850s and again in the 1890s as part of the Arts and Crafts Movement which lasted well beyond the turn of the century, and as part of the American Colonial Revival of the latter 1920's. They were also popular for a time during the 1950s era of Early American decor.

Because hooked rugs were made in the home for personal use, they can seldom be traced back to their original maker or pinned down to an exact date. Those believed to be over 100 years old command the highest prices. 

Keepsakes, Not Throwaways

QUESTION: Sometime ago I purchased a box of colorful decorative holiday cutouts and imprints. Many of the designs feature St. Nicholas and have a definite British Victorian look to them. What were these called and what were they used for? 

ANSWER: Believe it or not, the cutouts you purchased are known as scraps. While the word “scraps” has now come to mean parts that are left over, such as scraps of wood, fabric, and paper, back in the 19th century it meant something quite different.

The Victorians loved decoration—the more the better. They also were very romantic and loved sentimentality and keepsakes. This led to a phenomenon popularly known as scraps.

Also called die cuts or chromos, scraps were small, colorful, embossed paper images that were sold in sheets by stationers and booksellers and used in various decorative, entertainment, and educational applications. Their diverse subject matter included flowers, trees, fruits, birds, animals, pets, ladies and gents, children, historical people and events, angels, transportation themes, and occupational motifs.

People pasted them into albums and used them to make greeting cards and decorated boxes. They also pasted them on folding screens and pieces of furniture. Scraps served as extra learning materials to teach young children the alphabet, counting, natural history, and geography, as well as teaching tools for learning prayers and Bible stories and in the enjoyment of nursery rhymes and fairy tales.

The first scraps originated in German bakers' shops as decoration for biscuits and cakes and for fastening on wrapped sweets. The earliest ones were printed in uncut sheets in black and white, then hand colored. Scraps appeared in Britain in the 1850s and soon became popular as decorative additions to Christmas cards. They were also used to illustrate historical as well as events of the time.

By the mid-1800's, chromolithography had been invented. This made a wide variety of  colored scraps available to an ever-increasing market. But chromolithography required a lengthy process. Each color had to be applied separately and needed to dry before the next color could be applied. However, the process made up to 20 printed colors possible. Printers made Victorian and Edwardian scraps in sheets that contained small chromolithographs designed to be cut out in the same manner as the first penny postage stamps. After printing and before embossing, they coated the sheets with a gelatin and gum layer that resulted in a glossy appearance and helped the paper stretch without cracking the print. Steel cutters, powered by foot treadles, punched out excess paper and left clean, sharp edges. Thin paper sheets, imprinted with manufacturers’ trademarks and called "ladders," held the cut sheets together.

The elaborate use of stamping can often be seen in uncut scrap sheets. Optimum use of space, required minimal cutting and lead to the intricate and ingenious design of the cutting die.

Early in the 20th century, young ladies and children of the middle and upper classes began keeping scrapbooks that contained collections of commercially produced scraps. They organized them thematically with a single subject for the entire book or with several themes arranged by section. Sometimes, they added lines of poetry, personal notations, inscriptions by family and friends, and drawings.

Stationery stores sold scrapbooks with tooled leather covers, elaborately embossed bindings, engraved clasps, and brass locks. Some scrapbooks contained printed decorations on their pages, as well as centered oval, circular or square sections into which people could paste items. Other albums held printed pages with theme-setting embossed decoration-like flowers or birds. Many scraps keepers made their own albums by pasting scraps over catalog and magazine pages.

Scraps production continued through the 1920's, but changes in popular taste, the effects of World War I, and the economic limitations of the Great Depression all contributed to their decline. Over time, newspaper and magazine pictures supplanted scraps as the "cutouts" of choice.

Today, sheets of uncut Victorian scraps and single scraps of good design, color, and condition are prized by ephemera collectors. Die cuts by celebrated manufacturers like Raphael Tuck and Sons, which produced a series of scraps to commemorate Queen Victoria's 50th jubilee in 1887, are especially prized by collectors. Values vary from $5 for common scraps up to $50 for unusual and sought-after images.

Let the Sun Shine In

QUESTION: I recently purchased a very thin summer quilt with a sunburst pattern. It really brightens up my day to see the sun spread out on my bed. How did women come up with patterns like this? Do you have any idea of how old it might be?

ANSWER: Patterned quilts have been around for a long time. While some appeared in Colonial times, the peak time for pattern quilts was the latter half of the 19th century. Amish women still meticulously hand-sew them, both for home use and for sale to tourists. Most quilts take hundreds of hours of work, so they’re priced rather high. Although some individuals did make the older ones, the most intricate ones were the result of a group of women sewing together in what became known as a “quilting bee.” This not only produced a quilt but provided a time for socializing and exchanging news and gossip. Yours looks to have been made by an individual, perhaps in the early 20th century.

During the years between the American Revolution and the beginning of the westward migration, bedcovers blossomed with cotton cutouts salvaged from leftover bits of expensive European chintz. Women carefully snipped around the bird and floral motifs of the imported chintzes and appliquéd them on fields of plain domestic cloth to make the most of the patterned fabric available to them. Known as patchwork quilts, these served a practical purpose—to keep people warm in bed at night.

But it was during the years of the westward journey, from 1840 to 1870, that women stitched the majority of patchwork quilts. As families moved west, fabric became scarce, so women creatively used what they had. While their Colonial forebearers used bits of leftover fabric, pioneer women also used pieces of old clothing and household linens. They stitched these scraps together in designated patterns with some pretty folksy names—the Hole in the Barn Door, Rocky Mountain Puzzle, Log Cabin, Galaxy of Stars, and hundreds of others that reflected the joys and sorrows of pioneer women’s lives. Only rarely did quilters use new pieces of cloth.

Another type of quilt popular at the time was the crazy quilt, a seemingly wild pattern made more coherent by a series of straight seams. Because of a lack of space and quilting supplies, individual pioneer women often assembled lap-sized quilts suitable for throwing over the legs when riding in a wagon or carriage in cold weather.

The dust on the westward movement slowly settled as howling locomotives took the place of the swaying Conestoga. Hastily thrown up shanties made way for gingerbread mansions filled to the rafters with sumptuous furnishings and awash with a rainbow of brilliant colors. The quilts of the late 1800s illustrate the extravagance of the Victorian age. In fact, the quilts that most typify those years when Victoria last reigned in England aren’t really quilts at all, but thin parlor throws meant to thrill the eye—not warm the body. At home on the tabletops, sofa arms, and piano backs of overstuffed parlors, these throws had neither quilting nor batting. Yet, in their own splashy way, they are as much masterworks of American stitchery as their pioneer predecessors.

Pieced from the best silks, satins, and velvets—materials newly available to the growing middle class—the patchwork throws of this era are rich mosaics of color and texture, emphasizing proficiency in embroidery and the mastering of different types of stitches. Women's magazines of the day printed detailed embroidery instructions for anyone to follow.

In an unprecedented outpouring of sentimentality, Victorian quilters filled their work with bits and pieces of their personal past: Father's vest pocket, lace from a wedding veil, ribbons commemorating political events or visits to faraway lands.