by Alex Southgate
Most of the women in my family are fibre artists, although not all of them would identify as such. My great-aunt Annie created a variety of large-scale political embroideries including the one proclaiming, “Socialism is the hope of the world”, which hung proudly on my maternal grandmother’s wall until her death. My paternal grandmother quilts and knits with impressive skill and intricacy. My mother and many of my aunts also quilt, knit, or crochet, and I picked up embroidery during the COVID-19 lockdowns. Although not all of us make such brazenly political pieces as Annie, we are all participating in a legacy of feminized–and feminist–artistic practice.
Quilting has been a salient motif in feminist art, activism, and theorizing. Artist Karen Fraser, quoted in a 1995 issue of Northern Woman, used quilting bees – social gatherings for quilting – as a symbol of the modern political economy:
“Quilting bees used to be formed several times a year by a group of women who would work collaboratively on a quilt. Once the quilt was complete, the women would return to their everyday routines. Each woman would be a part of several different quilting bees each year and work with many different women. The women involved in the quilting bee would do the tasks that they were best at. They would be seated strategically around the quilt next to the women with whom they would have the best conversation. Most importantly, there is no hierarchy of positions as the women worked collectively.”
Lauren Benson reflects on Karen Fraser’s work in Vol. 16, No. 3 of Northern Woman (November 1995).
Fraser contrasts the quilting bee model of organization to conventional “ladders” of hierarchy wherein workers work in isolation to gain promotions. As such, the quilting bee is an apt model for feminist modes of activism and cultural production, which Canadian filmmaker Kay Armatage touches on in her article entitled “The Impact of Feminism on Aesthetic Theory and Practices” in a 1982 issue of Fireweed.
Kay Armatage pictured in Issue 15 of Fireweed (Winter 1982).
As part of the movement of feminist cultural activism that emerged in the 1970s, prominent feminist artists such as Judy Chicago in the US and Joyce Wieland here in Canada used traditionally feminized art styles including quilting, embroidery, and knitting to engage with themes of nationalism, patriarchy, ecology, sexuality, and more. Writer Randi Spires reflects on Wieland’s work–and her artistic influence on Chicago–in a 1992 issue of Matriart.
“‘Reason Over Passion’ eulogizes Pierre Trudeau and refers to his statement ‘Reason over passion in government’. Of course ‘reason over passion’ is the opposite of what I believe; they should go side by side” – Joyce Wieland in Vol. 2, No. 4 of Matriart (1992).
Importantly, feminist fibre arts are focused not only on the aesthetics of these materials but also on the political implications of feminized labor. As journalist Marni Jackson writes of Barbara Todd’s work in a 1994 issue of Matriart, her “quilts turn the traditionally submissive image of needlework into a form of patient subversion, a way of ‘pointing out’ the significant shapes in our cultural landscape”. Also in this issue, Carol Barbour reviews an exhibition entitled Picking Up the Pieces: Quilted Stories featuring the work of twelve quilt artists across Canada. The showcase “continues the lineage of quilt-making as a feminist art practise in which conventional notions of what constitutes a quilt are subverted,” Barbour writes.
Looking beyond the feminist movement, prominent public projects such as the Names Project AIDS Memorial Quilt have used the aesthetics and politics of fibre arts to make very public, affective statements, as discussed in Vol. II, No. 3 of Diversity: The Lesbian Rag (June 1989).
A segment of the Names Project AIDS Memorial Quilt. Image courtesy of
Names Project Aids Memorial.
Among the symbols in our cultural landscape that feminist quilters have highlighted, peace is an important theme. As Jackson further explains of Todd’s work, “Her quilts suggest that female “work” (which is inextricable from female art) can subsume [the imagery of death], and exert its own power, on its own terms”. Because quilting is an act of creating, of breathing life into fabric and materials, it “has always been an art through which women have raised their voices, spoken of their homes, their marriages, their children, matters close to their hearts,” writes Sima Elizabeth Shefrin in her article entitled “Quilting for Peace” in a 1986 issue of Herizons. “It is in keeping with a long tradition that quilts and other fabric art forms now speak women’s anger and fear about war.”
In the same essay, Shefrin writes about Wendy Lewington’s piece “National Security Blanket” as an example of the relationship between the movement of quilting and anti-war imagery. Lewington’s quilt, pictured below on the left, appears to be a traditional quilt with flowers and delicate stitching. In order to subvert this delicate imagery, Lewington crafted quilt blocks to represent nuclear power and weapons as well as racism and sexism. This contrast between beauty and destruction is present in many feminist protest quilts. Quilts like these artistically render the long history of women’s peace activism.
In some ways the quilt is an imprecise metaphor. The different colours or materials of quilt blocks can clash or be sewn together loosely. Quilts can become old and frayed. They are intended to be used regularly, after all, and will not stand the test of time if they are made poorly. Quilts, like feminist movements, don’t have to be perfect. They can be loud, and they can clash even as they are carefully crafted and reverently held on to. Yet, it’s the act of creation that gives quilts their charm, regardless of aesthetic value or skill. The quilt can be seen as a metaphor for the messiness and complexity of feminist history. It can help us appreciate our connection and entanglement while underscoring the often-invisible labour that goes into its creation.
Alexandra Southgate (she/her) is a PhD student in the Department of History at Temple University. She received both her BA and her MA from the University of Toronto. Her research interests include twentieth-century U.S. foreign relations, international history and the intersections of class, gender, race and religion in the culture of the Cold War. Alex is Assistant Editor for Diplomatic History, and also edited the Spring 2024 Issue of Rejoinder on the theme “The Archive is Political.” Alex previously worked and volunteered with Rise Up.