Showing posts with label Embroidery. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Embroidery. Show all posts

Sunday, February 8, 2009

S is for Suzani

S SuzaniS is for suzani, but also for silk road and ’stans (as in Uzbekistan, Kyrgyzstan, Turkmenistan, Kazakhstan). An essential form of embroidery in Central Asia, the suzani has grown out of a rich textile tradition that dates to the time of the medieval silk road trade, and continues today to represent essential concepts of home, hearth, and female kinship.

Suzani
Susanne’s suzani
I first learned the word suzani when my parents came back from a Central Asian adventure in 1994. At the time, they were the only people I had known to have encountered the ’stans firsthand. My mother’s big acquisition on the trip was a suzani, which she found in Uzbekistan, and which inevitably became known as “Susanne’s suzani.” So I have always tied the suzani very closely to my mother, not only because her name seems to have drawn her to it, but because as a textile cognoscente(a?), she loves it, and so do I. As I’ve learned more about its traditions, I’ve grown to appreciate how very much the suzani represents the love that mothers and daughters share.

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Suzani from Shakhrisabz, near Samarkand
As a central component of a textile-rich culture, the suzani fundamentally represents the silk road. To me, the very word conjures up images of Central Asia in all its historical glory. A specialty of Uzbekistan (particulary Bukhara and Shakhrisabz), but produced throughout Central Asia, the suzani combines the best of the silk road’s trade history with spectacular artisanship. One particularly important suzani center is the Uzbek city, Bukhara. Textiles of Bukhara also include spectacular, distinctive rugs and ikat fabrics, but suzanis are most important of all. A UNESCO world heritage site, Bukhara has a very long and literally colorful history that dates back at least fifteen hundred years, and its strategic position along historic trade routes has brought it under the control of the Persian Empire, Alexander the Great, the Samanids, and more recently, the Soviet Union, to name a few. In 1220, the city fell victim to Genghis Khan, but regained much of its former glory during the time of Timur (Tamerlane), whose empire emanated from nearby Samarkand (also a center of suzani production).

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Detail of a silk-embroidered suzani on brown cotton twill, from Shakhrisabz. Detail shows the three-dimensional effect of the chain-stitching.
The suzani generally has a cotton or silk cloth base for its cotton or silk thread embroidery. The name comes from the Persian word, suzan, or needle, and its predominant embroidery technique is chain stitch, done with an instrument called a tambour, which is a hooked needle (something along the lines of a sharp crochet hook) that pierces fabric and draws embroidery thread from behind through to the design side. Like the tambourine, the tambour also describes the embroidery hoop that keeps fabric stretched and taut, as for a drum. Suzani embroiderers also use a regular needle to produce a lovely chain stitch, and over the past century, machines have been used more and more for this purpose.

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Detail of a suzani from Samarkand
Design motifs draw from an ancient iconography, including sun and moon disks (possibly delving into deep historical roots in a Zoroastrian past). Flowers (especially tulips, carnations, and irises) and vegetation also dominate suzani design. Organic leaves frequently border central motifs, sometimes emerging from a tiny watering can in one corner and spreading around the edges of the entire design.

suzani detail
Detail of Susanne’s suzani
In Uzbek homes, every surface is covered with textiles in a kind of dazzling horror vacui that warms the space visually and physically. Amid all this riot of color, the suzani dominates. Suzanis are large—either wall hangings or bed coverings—and are the major component of a bride’s dowry. Relying on materials (cotton fabric and silk threads) produced in towns and cities, they are far removed from the wool-based textiles produced by nomads of the Asian steppes. In towns or cities such as Bukhara, a “kalamkash” (suzani designer; wouldn’t that look great on a business card?) sketches an elaborate design on the base fabric, then often divides it into several strips. She then hands over the fabric and directions to a family to distribute the pieces among mother, sisters, aunts, and cousins to embroider separately for the bride to be, much as American friends and family might have divided labor in a quilting bee. After all the embroidery is complete, they piece together strips to form a whole. Hand-embroidered suzanis are labor-intensive projects, so it’s not surprising that needlework begins shortly after a daughter’s birth. Generally, at least four pieces are required for a dowry, including at least one suzani. The suzani, then, becomes a cherished symbol of young woman’s first home and family in her new home.


Short video about chain stitch appliqué technique. Music is Uzbek: “Kosh-Chenar” by Turgun Alimatov.
About this “letter”
I wanted to create something in wool as an hommage to the suzani, but knew that the only real way I could do that was to explore motifs and look for similarities in process. This is a small, knitted experiment. At some point, when my embroidery skills have improved significantly, I’d like to let it grow, and perhaps create a sun disk using some of the same techniques, but this is only a first stab. I used a Danish yarn I’ve only recently discovered: Isager Strik. I knit the small piece at a gauge of about eight and a half stitches to the inch, using a kind of modified intarsia. The central carnation motif I modeled directly on a suzani from Tashkent (Uzbekistan). I applied blanket stitch to outline the carnation, and which seems to me to give it a cartoon-like aspect (which I like!).
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My inspiration: a carnation suzani from Tashkent, detail.
The rest of the applied surface design (on the stem and leaves) is chain-stitch embroidery. Trying to mimic the tambour’s piercing and hooking action, I acquired a crochet hook to pull yarn from the under side to the surface. I’ve actually never tried to apply a design on anything I’ve knit (aside from the odd foray into duplicate stitch). Although I’ve learned a few crochet stitches, I’m not very skillful with a hook. Like most knitting purists, I usually focus my efforts on producing the designed material, rather than decorating it afterward. I was, however, surprised to actually enjoy the crochet work and even appreciate its enhancements to the design and free-flowing curves. I will definitely try it again!

Dresses
Mother & daughter
Mothers & daughters
Although it is a small swatch—really just a token—my abecedarium’s S is a core piece. I have a long way to go before I can produce anything remotely evocative of the storied suzani. And yet, this particular excursion is another of many demonstrations of the love for textiles my mother has given me, and of greater loves she and I share, as do mothers and daughters all over this planet. So S is really for Susanne and suzani.






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Sun-disc bolim posh, a suzani-like embroidery held over bride & groom during the wedding ceremony
Suzani Madness
Notable museum collections:
Suzani Bib

Plethora of suzanis captured by Flickr photographers

DSC06814For Suzani Collectors
Suzanis in the Interior Design Market
Venetian Red’s blog entry

DSC06820Knitting & Suzanis
  • Kaffe Fassett designed a beaded “Suzani wrap” in Rowan Summer Tweed. Rowan’s Knitting and Crochet number 41, published in Spring of 2007. His design focuses on the sun-disc motif.
  • Jade Starmore designed a Suzani vest (also available as a wrap on the Starmores’ Virtual Yarns site), inspired by the wonderful collection of suzanis in the Burrell Collection, Glasgow.
  • Marina’s blog entry about her sleeved version of the Suzani vest
DSC06827Historic & contemporary photos of Central Asia

Sunday, June 29, 2008

N is for Nantucket

NnantucketI’ve never been to Nantucket, but envision it as a place firmly rooted in its own complicated history. Which means I do definitely want to go there. The subject of this letter “N” is not so much Nantucket the island as it is Nantucket—New England—Needlework. And perhaps the image has hinted at the subject that underlies the others: American samplers. Letterforms, pens, needles, fiber, tradition—all come beautifully together in samplers, embroidered cloths that demonstrate skill in needlework, especially in stitching alphabets. So my letter N is a small project knit in the style of needle-stitched samplers. Although knitting and embroidery (especially cross-stitch) have much in common, they seem to operate at different scales and with different fundamental concerns. While knitting is architectural, mathematical, constructive, embroidery is fine, without visible guidelines, ornamental. I wanted to explore their common features and celebrate two time-honored forms of needlework and penmanship.

Sampler3Although girls stitched samplers in America as early as the mid-seventeenth century (the oldest surviving example is by Myles Standish’s daughter, Loara, ca. 1653, now in the Pilgrim Hall Museum; reproduction kit by the Examplarery here), I associate them with the early Republic era, roughly 1790 to 1811. By that time, Nantucket was firmly established as a major commercial center, a situation the robust Quaker community on the island was largely responsible for bringing about. (Right: Polly Coffin’s sampler, Nantucket Historical Association, 1797)

Sampler4Today, Nantucket Island is known as a vacation destination for the wealthy, where exquisite baskets are made and sold for very respectable sums. Herman Melville helped enshrine the island as the control center for a global whaling empire through Moby Dick. Melville’s first mate was Starbuck, and although his name is immortalized on coffee shop signs around the world, it was also a prominent Nantucket Quaker name. (At left: Sally Starbuck’s sampler, 1808, Nantucket Historical Association)

NinkAlthough I tend to think of samplers as American, they are not, of course. Samplers were made all over Europe —particularly in Spain and England— for centuries before the Mayflower brought Myles Standish to this continent. Initially, needlework samplers were, like knitting samplers, containers of information— catalogs of stitches. As written messages began to appear as a standard element, it was clear that this medium had become a gentile occupation for privileged women. Only the wealthy could afford to teach girls to read and write.

Sampler6From at least the time of the American Revolution, needlework samplers were an established feature of curricula in schools that accepted female students, where students generally completed their samplers between the ages of 7 and 14. Independent teachers of young women (almost always women themselves) also taught needlework to their young charges. The sampler, whether assigned in a classroom or by a tutor, was meant to teach young girls how to form letters as well as to sew. Many students found that needlework was the easier skill to master. Ornate or very plain, samplers were not meant to be canvases for artistic prowess; the format, elements, even sometimes the messages, were all carefully prescribed by instructors. The sampler—at first a demonstration of wealth and privilege—became a mark of literacy, specifically of female literacy. The finished sampler came to be regarded as a relic from a rite of passage, a mark of learning, and in later years, a family heirloom. (Above, left: Hope Mosely’s sampler, 1804. Private collection)

Sampler2In addition to one or more alphabets, a sampler might also feature a poem or truism, as well as the student’s name, date and place of birth (or at least age at the time of “writing”), sometimes the names of family members, a school or teacher’s name, and a variety of motifs (including, often, school buildings, such as Harvard Yard, where ironically, female students were not welcome). I was astonished to learn that the National Archives holds a small collection of samplers. Apparently they were accepted as genealogical evidence. When widows applied for their late husbands’ military pensions, they had to prove their own birth date and name, and some had no other evidence to provide. There’s a great article by archivist Jennifer Davis Heaps about samplers as genealogical evidence here. We can expect more on samplers & genealogy from the Winterthur conference this October. (Hannah Foster’s sampler, 179x. New Hampshire Historical Society)

Sampler5The strong Quaker presence in Nantucket from the late eighteenth-century and continuing for about a hundred years assured that young women were educated. Enough samplers survive to demonstrate styles set by Nantucket educators. In general, the heyday of Nantucket samplers (say, from about 1790 until about 1815) produced samplers that emphasize letters rather than pictures, messages more than motifs. The one recurring motif, the Nantucket tree, seems to have represented some kind of a pine tree, and appears across the bottom row of Mary Starbuck’s sampler (1796, left; Nantucket Historical Association).


NSamplerMy own attempt to make a knitted sampler has turned out a bit disappointing, so I won’t be framing it or sending it to the local historical society or to the National Archives. I tried to use materials that corresponded in some way to the samplers of two-hundred years ago: a linen base with bits of color (too much color, I think) in cotton and silk and even some metallic threads. I used a very stiff, barely processed & spun linen (with a mean, insistent twist) for the main color, with bits of more reasonable linen, embroidery thread and silk/cotton yarns. Because I wanted a fair amount of definition, I knit at a gauge of about 8 stitches to the inch. It was a delight to pick out the materials, but when it came time to knit, I spent more time untangling yarn than I did knitting. Knitting with two or more yarns, each in a different fiber, each with its own ideas about how to behave, was a vexing challenge. Luckily, linen relaxes considerably after blocking, so the result is better than I had expected. My message, which is probably hard to make out, is:
Union Pearl / Markt This / Sam[N]ple / r 6 mo* / 2008
[row of Nantucket trees]

* “6 mo.” is the Quaker term for the month of June.
Often, written messages continued from line to line, whether or not the word or sentence broke in the right place, which is why the word, “sampler” stetches from one “row” to the next. Borders are moss stitch, which flattens out after blocking to look like basketweave, also a reference to Nantucket.

Before BlockingAfter Blocking
NSampler2Nnatucket2



Sampler1Some Nantucket & Needlework Resources
  • Sherri Federbush, “Journal of Eliza Brock” Historic Nantucket (July 1982): 13-17.
  • Julia Fein Azoulay, “Reading into History: Susan Boardman’s Nantucket Embroidered Narratives” Piecework (July/August 2004): 34.
  • Elizabeth Shure, “Waiting, Working Women of Nantucket Island” Piecework July August 95: 40.
  • Carpenter, Charles H., Jr., and Carpenter, Mary Grace. The Decorative Arts and Crafts of Nantucket (New York: Dodd, Meand & Co., 1987).
  • Sturgis Library (Nantucket) Archives
InksSampler Bib
  • Swan, Susan Burrows. Plain and Fancy: American Women and Their Needlework, 1650 - 1850
  • Ring, Betty. Girlhood Embroidery: American Samplers & Pictorial Needlework, 1650 - 1850, 2 vols. (1993)
  • Kathleen Staples, “Fancy samplers of New Bedford and Fairhaven, Massachusetts, 1805-1835” Magazine Antiques (Feb. 2008)

  • Frances Faile, “ Caring for Old Samplers” Piecework (Nov. 1993): 12-13.

Nink2Examples of samplers on the WebUpcoming Conference
Who’s Your Daddy? Families in Early American Needlework
Winterthur Needlework Conference
Winterthur Museum & Gardens, Winterthur, Delaware

NSampler3Just for fun