I also posted this at my other blog, Quilting is my Obsession. I have been writing a poem a day with a closed group. It has been a great exercise. Some of them are better than others. This was poem was written on day seven.
Quilts become stories
independent of dynasties or holy empires.
With heads bowed over needles
stitching hopes and secrets that survived in fibers,
there was no permanence for women and slaves who by law owned
not even what was thrown away so
in anonymity they threaded their lives and economy into art.
Surviving because they borrowed from every incarnation each cherished scrap
While threading a different history, a history that included them;
Undaunted by fashion,
And reaching for joy.
Because empires fall and art becomes fatuous
but quilts become stories.
This is a link to Gee Bend Quiltmakers. Check it out. They are the true artists.
I love old quilts. Those that survive show actual hand stitches and reference all that went into each stitch, not just the thread, the fabric and the time required to do the work and there was always so much work they had to do; quilts that survive also reference true artistic genius.