Fragmentation and Repair (eBook)

HISTORICAL FRAGMENTS

For centuries, piecing, patching and repairing cloth were a necessity for many different cultures. Ancient fragments of cloth up to 12,000 years old have been discovered in countries such as Egypt, China and Peru. In Europe, layers of quilted fabric, thought to have been used as part of a soldier’s armour for warmth and protection, have been found dating back to the early Middle Ages. One of the earliest surviving complete patchworks is a coverlet dating from 1718.

Quilting

Quilting is a method of stitching layers of material together – usually two layers of fabric with padding or wadding in between. Quilts can be created using whole pieces of cloth but in this book my focus is on quilts that use piecing and patching for the top layer. Many pieced quilts are joined in regular, geometric patterns, or from patchwork blocks made using a paper template and stitched together in a grid format. However, pieced quilts can be bold and free-form, like the quilts of Gee’s Bend, Alabama. My work tends to be influenced by less formal methods of patching and piecing cloth, such as Japanese boro (see here).

Not all patchwork is quilted. Jogakbo is a style of Korean patchwork traditionally used to make wrapping cloths (known as bojagi). Geometric-shaped scraps are sewn together in an irregular, improvised way, using a special seaming technique to create a flat seam, which gives the cloth the appearance of a stained-glass window.

KANTHA

The word ‘kantha’ is derived from Sanskrit, denoting a rag or patched garment. They are double-sided embroideries created from worn-out saris and dhotis, made in the Bengal region of the Indian subcontinent. It is unclear when the making of kantha first began: the earliest mention in literature dates from 500 years ago, but the oldest surviving examples originate from the early nineteenth century. Recycling, repurposing and the stitching of layers of cloth together lie at the heart of traditional kantha making. Traditionally, white saris with coloured borders were worn, and when these became old and threadbare, the long pieces of fine cotton cloth were folded into three or four layers and held together with running stitch.

Some traditional kanthas are richly embroidered with scenes and domestic objects from everyday life. Others depict whimsical figures and quirky animals and birds, or have more abstract geometric shapes, or floral and leaf motifs. These motifs are ‘drawn’ with running stitch, using a thread that contrasts in colour, and then filled in with decorative patterns. In old kanthas, the coloured threads were sometimes withdrawn from the border patterns woven on the edges of the saris. Other stitches besides running stitch were also used for the filling stitches, such as back stitch and stem stitch; the placement and density of the stitches affects the texture of the cloth, causing a rippling on the surface. Traditionally, kanthas were made by women and used for household items such as bed quilts and for swaddling babies, as the cloth was usually soft, warm and comforting.

Today, recycling and repurposing continues, using coloured and printed saris in which fragments are pieced and patched together in layers. Multiple rows of running stitch unify and hold the layers in place. There are many stitch co-operatives run on a commercial basis, some creating exciting contemporary twists on traditional techniques, and although the pieces they make are not traditional kanthas, they are still referred to as kantha.

Dorothy Tucker’s stitched work draws on traditional ways of making kantha. Plates and Leaves is made from a fine cotton sari, folded into four layers. The length of the piece and the inclusion of the woven borders reference the sari from which it was made. She explains:

‘A vertical grey line, just visible under the top layer, makes use of a stripe woven into the sari end. Stripes like these, which often feature on old traditional kantha, inspired me to insert strips of coloured cotton underneath the top layer and also to add patches of colour on top. Once the fabrics have been positioned, the layers are secured with lines of even running stitch. Domestic objects are often depicted on traditional kantha, which led me to use plates and leaves on this piece. All the motifs are outlined, then coloured and filled in with stitched patterns. Finally, all the remaining spaces are quilted.’

Not quite kantha

I often think of my work in terms of being ‘not quite kantha’, as I take the essence of kantha making but work in an inventive, experimental way in order to make contemporary pieces. All samples seen here are made from at least three layers, held together using simple repetitive stitch, and examples 2–5 introduce a variety of non-traditional materials. Working small allows extensive experimentation and exploration before taking any ideas forward into larger pieces of work (see work on here).

JAPANESE BORO

The term boro is derived from a Japanese word that translates as ‘tattered, worn out, torn and crumbling’ and describes heavily patched and repaired clothing and bedding made through necessity in the far north of Japan.

Boro garments were work clothes made and worn by families of poor fishermen and peasant farmers in the late nineteenth century in an area called Aomori, where winters are extremely harsh. Essentially made from rags, repaired and patched with many layers stitched together, these utilitarian garments were also altered and reassembled into bed covers, with one item utilized to repair another. Fabric scraps were used to patch holes and thin areas, which was repeated again and again, increasing the layers and adding greater strength to the material.

In the north of Japan, clothing was usually made from hemp, which is rough and scratchy and cold in winter, so layers were stitched together and sometimes padded with hemp fuzz to add insulation, like a form of wadding. Further south, towards what is now Tokyo and Kyoto, farmers wore cotton, but the Aomori region was too cold to grow cotton, and only a small quantity of this material found its way north, usually via seafaring traders, until the railway line was opened at the end of the nineteenth century. As a result, cotton fabric was rare and expensive, so the tiniest snippets were saved as they were very precious and valuable. Cloth was handed down from one generation to the next, and young girls would have tiny scraps of cloth as a dowry to take with them when they married.

Until relatively recently, boro was regarded as a sign of poverty and therefore seen as shameful. It was not until the mid-twentieth century that these garments, futon covers and patched cloths were collected and preserved, largely through the efforts of Chuzaburo Tanaka, who recognized their importance as items of historical and cultural significance. He brought boro textiles to the world’s attention by setting up and displaying his collection in the Amuse Museum in Tokyo (now sadly closed); I was allowed to handle items in the collection when I visited the museum and some of the garments are extremely heavy due to many layers being stitched together.

Cotton sakabukuro sake bags

During the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, Japanese sake brewers used cloth bags, known as...