Day One of Session One is history and went very well. I was really more nervous about yesterday, when so much had to be done. Today was just meeting lovely people I’d only corresponded with, or at most talked with on the phone.

Much of the morning was spent in introductions, ground rules (NO COFFEE NEAR THE WORK AREA), and adjusting frames, lights, and magnifiers. Tricia assigned work stations and got everyone started. It seemed like that first stitching was a little nerve-wracking; breaking up the white space with the first bit of colored silk is so irrevocable.

Lunch was delicious, like all the other food. Our meals are being catered by Marcia, a southern cook in the best tradition. We’re eating like princesses. Cheese & tomato tart, abundant salad, fruit, pound cake; if we’re not careful we’ll all have to be rolled out of here in a few days!

A bit of shopping was squeezed in after lunch. Volunteers receive a 10% discount in our museum shops, and a number of special treats including books, scrimshaw needlework tools, and charts, were stocked especially for the delight of the embroiderers. There are more goodies on order that will be in before the August session.

This is the back of the jacket, where Tricia has been stitching one of each motif. As she worked, she took detailed photos of the steps which she used to create instruction manuals for each station.

The only cloud in the day involved what is now called ‘the dead bird coif’. While everyone was working, Tricia began to trace the embroidery pattern onto the paper coif template. This bit is truly fascinating, as it is a glimpse into how these patterns may have been used in the 17^th century. Months ago Tricia had deciphered the ‘master pattern repeat’ of the jacket. She and Denise created a master pattern, several repeats of the pattern both vertically and horizontally which enabled them to then lay the garment pattern pieces over the embroidery pattern and trace.

Tricia had the coif-shaped paper I traced off for her and laid it over the master pattern on a light box. She was about 2/3 done when I peeked over her shoulder. She showed me how she’d moved the paper around to get the most complete repeats in strategic places. “Wow, that’s beautiful. But, umm, the birds are upside down.” The coif shape is odd, and it is really hard to see how it goes together unless you’ve made some (and sometimes even then) or worn them. In order to really see how the pattern would lie when worn, we eventually had to tape it together and put it on. Amid hearty laughter at the silly paper hat, we all agreed that, sadly, the birds were not only upside down, but with their feet in the air like that they looked dead. “It’s a lot faster to trace than embroider” Tricia observed, glad we’d discovered the mistake sooner than later.

Tomorrow I’ll have more pictures of the embroidery.

“So, want to make a coif and forehead cloth to go with the jacket?” Tricia asked me that a few weeks ago, during the time that she was wrestling with how to get all the jacket pieces out of one piece of linen and still be able to fit the pieces into the frames we had (or thought we could get). My first thought was that the stress of the impossible puzzle had finally sent her around the bend. In my mind the jacket alone was still looming as a gargantuan goal and a logistical nightmare. This coif & forehead cloth wasn’t exactly a new idea, though. Months before, when we were laying out this project in broad strokes, one of the goals I outlined was to increase the embroidery skills and knowledge base of the Colonial Wardrobe Dept staff. Expanding skills is a worthy object on its own, but ultimately I was intending to create a coif and forehead cloth to match the jacket, like the suite of entirely metal thread embroidered jacket, coif, and forehead cloth in the collection of Boston’s Museum of Fine Arts. So my second thought was “why not?” Why not indeed. So we’ll be working on a coif and forehead cloth too, over these next months. Why not.

Thanks to Libbet, who left a comment confirming my suspicion that an embroidered coif & forehead cloth in the Burrell Collection is displayed upside down and backwards. I was hesitant to say so definitely, only having seen it in a photograph, but it is put together upside down and the forehead cloth is sewn on with the point going the wrong way. This is an easy mistake to make, especially if one has never tried to wear a coif; yet another example of how doing can teach you things even long and careful looking won’t reveal.

A forehead cloth, or in some period records, a cross cloth, is a triangle with tape or ties on two points. It is like the kerchiefs that were popular a few years ago and in the 1970s. It was worn in the 17^th century over a coif, with the point facing forward, towards the forehead. They seem to have been part of informal wear, sometimes worn to bed.

Thanks also to the several ambitious embroiderers, some working solo, some in teams, who have left comments or sent notes to say that they are also working on embroidered jackets. If you send me some pictures (less than 3MB each) I’ll post some, so we can see what you’re doing and cheer you on.

Most of the daily work on this project right now is focused on getting ready for the first bee, which will start in less than a week (really? Next week already?). Much of what we’re doing, while necessary, is unglamorous and doesn’t seem particularly blog-worthy. For instance, today Kathy, Laura and I decided how many of each kind of table (small round and long rectangular) we’ll need, and in what arrangement. Not very exciting, but needed to be done. We’ve made lists of supplies we need – power strips, extension cords, nametags, coffee mugs. We’ve ordered a bunch of stuff and are crossing our fingers that it will all arrive in time, including daylight lamps, boxes to store supplies on the stitching tables, scissors for those boxes, and frame parts. I know Tricia is working on the master instruction book, which will have all the motifs and what colors & stitches they should be worked in.

I haven’t received any samples since Friday; I’ll keep noting here when I do so you’ll know yours arrived safely.

YAY! This is just what I was hoping this blog could be. PF left a comment to let us know that some records of the Embroiderers’ Company DO survive from before the fire – see below.

“Some of the records of the Embroiderers’ Company of London (called “Broderers’ Company”) do survive from before the great fire. The minute books don’t start until 1679, but the receipt books include some records from 1557-1640. The Family History Library has these London records on microfilm, (FHL BRITISH Film 1068861) and they can be ordered from Salt Lake City to be viewed at your local FHL (the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints).”

I had read in more than one book that ‘the records were lost’ and never looked into it, which just goes to show you shouldn’t just believe everything you read. Has anybody read through them?

To keep on this bibliographical theme, I’m going to offer a review of one of the books we’ve consulted as we researched this project.

Epstein, Kathleen. British Embroidery: Curious Works from the Seventeenth Century. Austin, TX: Curious Works Press and Williamsburg, VA: Colonial Williamsburg Foundation. 1998.

This volume was created as the companion to an exhibit of the same name which was displayed at Colonial Williamsburg in 1998-99. It is thoroughly illustrated, with many color plates, but it is more than an exhibit catalogue. The text is an excellent introduction to 17^th-century British needlework. Not only does it describe the different sorts of embroidery but it explains who was embroidering, how they learned the skills, and begins to plumb the depths of the importance of embroidery to this society. The only defect, really, is that it is too short. I wished for more information on the materials of embroidery and where they came from. But that’s just quibbling with an excellent book, well worth reading.

This squirrel is from the same coif as the bluebird. The coif was designed and worked by members of the Colonial Wardrobe Department in the mid 1990s. It was a tour de force at the time, and we were justly proud of it. However, I’m also proud to say that we’ve come a long way, baby, since then. I wouldn’t do that project the same way now, we’ve learned too much in the mean time. But it remains a beautiful object, full of the skilled work of human hands.

Several months ago, in the planning stages of this project, we decided we wanted to replicate an actual surviving 17^th century jacket, if at all possible, rather than create a new piece inspired by the originals. We outlined several criteria for the ‘perfect jacket.’

We wanted a jacket with a wide variety of motifs and different stitches, both of which would help to camouflage the fact that the embroidery was done by many different hands. We also wanted a pleasing color palette. Tastes change, and some of the color combinations used in the 17^th century are attractive to modern viewers and some aren’t. As long as we had a choice, we thought we’d go with one that is; after all, the finished garment would be part of an exhibit and we wanted people to like looking at it.

Maybe most importantly, we’d need to find a piece whose owner (institution or individual) was amenable to such a project. Fortunately, the Colonial Wardrobe Department had a prior relationship with Susan North, Curator of 17^th & 18^th Century Fashion at the Victoria & Albert Museum (V&A) in London, England. Ms North had helped us on a few previous reproduction projects, providing details of pieces in the V & A’s collections, and generous with her expert advice. She had encouraged our efforts in recreating historic garments, asserting her belief (which we share) that you can gain insights through recreating a garment that won’t be obvious when studying an original.

We were inclined to look carefully at the Laton jacket, in the V&A, because it had been examined by the late costume historian Janet Arnold. She published not only notes on construction details but also a pattern, drawn on graphed paper, in her volume Patterns of Fashion: the cut and construction of clothes for men and women c.1560-1620. Having the pattern pieces would save us the time and trouble of drafting a pattern. Unfortunately, the Laton jacket (accession # T.228-1994) has a narrow stitch vocabulary – mostly detached buttonhole stitch – which is tedious to work, time consuming and requires a great deal of thread per square inch. Even worse, it is a treasure of the collection (that’s not the bad part) so it is permanently on display behind glass (that’s the bad part). We wouldn’t be able to get the detailed photos of the embroidery pattern that would be essential to the project.

We turned to another jacket in the V&A’s collection, 1359-1900. This one has a beautifully colored pattern, a huge variety of motifs, and is not permanently on display, so it could be photographed from all sides. We decided to combine the Laton pattern pieces with the embroidery pattern of 1359-1900.

I haven’t posted links to these jackets as I’d first like to get permission to do so. They’re easy to find, though. On the V&A website (www.vam.ac.uk), click ‘collections’, then ‘search collections’. For the Laton jacket, put in either the accession number or ‘Laton jacket’. For the other, put in the accession number.

On our way to settling on these two jackets, we considered several others, and traveled to the Museum of Fine Arts in Boston, MA and the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York City to look at two surviving examples. I’ll post more about these in the future.

This photo is just eye candy. It comes from an embroidered coif (a kind of head covering worn by women in the 17^th century) designed and worked by several former members of the Colonial Wardrobe Department.

Here’s the information on how to join the team of embroiderers.