I love reading the various posts on this blog – and was particularly intrigued by Julie's suggestion that I was the Poirot of the V&A! Of course I am not alone in carrying out my research, over the last 18 months I have been joined by the amazingly resourceful Claire whose research skills are extraordinary. Less like an Agatha Christie sleuth we’re probably more akin to Cagney and Lacey – Claire the glamorous blond with the racy lifestyle: ‘So what are you up to tonight?' 'Not sure, might make the pub quiz if I leave now.’  Me the slightly manic brunette with the chaotic domestic life: ‘What do you mean there’s nothing in the fridge apart from half a loaf and a bottle of Bombay Sapphire?’
 
 

 
1475-1902 Patchwork coverlet, maker unknown, England, 1700-20.  Detail hand embroidered depiction of 'The Fox and the Vase' from Aesop's Fables.
 
Working closely together on a major exhibition makes you finely attuned to the other's thought processes. A potential lead usually starts during a conversation over a cup of tea in the Research Department’s kitchen. A stream of consciousness will be followed by a sudden pause. Claire knows the signs – a crinkled brow, pursed lips and a squinting of the eyes (not my most attractive look but certainly testament to the lack of regular botox treatments), followed by a quizzical ‘What I don’t understand is ……’ Then the chase is on – the internet is a wonderful thing but nothing quite like delving into obscure archives and hunting through library stacks. Time and time again we go back to the object, searching for clues we may have missed – the fragment of paper template here, a stitched initial there. We’ve all seen the television series based on a team of dysfunctional archaeologists – pouring over recently discovered artefacts, breathlessly whispering ‘Come on – give up your secrets……’. The truth is research is 99.9% hard slog and 0.1% sheer luck. Sometimes you might never get find evidence of the elusive maker, or be able to verify the object’s history. But oh the joy of suddenly finding a name on the census or discovering the exact source of inspiration … forget the late nights, the weekends, the missed holidays.  This is why we do what we do.
 
 
86.V.41  Aesop's Fables, with his life [after M. Plaudes] in English, French and Latin.  Aphra Behn, Francis Barlow, Thomas Philipot, Robert Codrington, Thomas Dudley.  1687 p. 171 Engraving of  'The Fox and the Stork'.

It has been an emotional week on many levels.  The pain of separation and loss, broadcast daily in the papers, and on the news channels cannot fail to resonate with mothers everywhere.  My youngest daughter made a flying visit home from university – time only for lunch, for a hug and lengthy admonitions: ‘don’t forget to wear your bicycle helmet’, ‘never leave your drink unattended’, ‘remember to lock your door – and check it twice’.   My own mother always warned me that you never, ever stop worrying about your children – and that is of course true.

Walter Dendy Sadler, Nearly Done, aquatint, published 1898 (Private Collection)
 
The trials and tribulations of motherhood are far outweighed by the memories of kissing my daughters’ downy heads, the hugs and kisses when I returned from work, the scraps of paper with ‘I love you’ written in a tiny hand, treasured in a trinket box.  Not all mothers are as fortunate.   The story of Nelly Weeton has been playing on my mind recently.
 
Nelly Weeton’s letters to friends and relatives were discovered in 1925 and published eleven years later under the title ‘Miss Weeton: A Journal of a Governess’.  Born in 1776, Nelly was persuaded by her brother to marry a local widower, Aaron Stock (1814).  The marriage was not a happy one: she was both verbally and physically abused, threatened with the lunatic asylum when she retaliated and, when finally separated by deed of separation in 1822, banned from the vicinity of her home.  More poignantly, the deed of separation was dependent on Nelly agreeing to see her only daughter, Mary (born 1815) only three times a year.
 
Physically separated, Nelly regularly wrote to Mary, sometimes ‘in a large hand, in hopes you will try to learn to read it yourself’.  Her letters combine motherly love and practical advice; one accompanied a parcel containing ribbons and pieces of fabric.  In her letter Nelly reiterates the importance of learning ‘something of the history of your mother’s family  … the piece of patchwork is out of an old Quilt I made above 20 years ago… The hexagon in the middle was a shred of our best bed hangings; they were Chintz, from the East Indies, which my father brought home with him from one of his voyages.’ 
 
Nelly was eventually reunited with her daughter, Mary and lived to enjoy seeing her grandchildren. However she did suffer one last indignity.  On discovering her journals, her editors decided that Nelly – named after her father’s ship – should be given the more refined name of Ellen.
 
Dearest Nelly, tormented sister, abused wife and loving parent, this blog is dedicated to you and to mothers everywhere. 
 

Sometimes you need to get out of the office - away from the nuts and bolts of exhibition planning.  You need to gain some perspective, remember not to take things too personally, keep the vision (and the faith).  You need to remind yourself that there is a world beyond the confines of your desk and computer; leaving for work in the dark and going home in the dark can narrow your field of vision, you become blinkered.  You suddenly crave adventure.
 
I decided to hop on a train and visit the American Museum in Britain, Bath.  I've been so focused on British quilt making - working with the collection, sourcing images for the book, contextual material for the exhibition.  Over the last five years I've tried to visit as many collections across the country as I could - and this was the perfect opportunity to gain a different perspective on the subject. 
 
Colleagues at the American Museum were generous with both their time and their hospitality - we spent an entire morning discussing how we could work together, their plans for a major exhibition in 2010 showcasing the American Museum's quilt collection and how we might market a UK 'quilt trail'.  Oh and I did eat an awful lot of very very good cookies ........
 

Hawaiian Quilt, 20th Century
 
After the success of my trip to Bath I went awol from the Museum and nipped down to Winchester to catch 'Quilty Secrets' before it closes on the 15 November.  It was a treat to see the 'Jane Austen Quilt' (yes I know technically it is a coverlet) - although I confess I'm eaten up with jealousy as I couldn't secure it for the Quilts 1700-2010!  I have another confession - I lust after the pair of boudoir bootees on display in 'Quilty Secrets'.  They were absolutely gorgeous - quilted bootees trimmed with fur.  Honestly I've been fantasizing about these all week.  I have visions of myself wafting around the bedroom, listening to Eartha Kitt, occasionally partaking of a glass of pink champagne and nibbling a violet cream.  Yes there is definitely another world out there .... ..
 
For more information about the American Museum in Britain see www.americanmuseum.org.  'Classic American Quilts' will run from 13 March - 31 October 2010.
For more information about 'Quilty Secrets' - Hampshire's unique quilt collection see www.discoverycentres.co.uk/winchester
 

I'm in trouble ... again.  It was a simple enough comment; I described Quilts 1700-2010 as an exhibition by women, for women.  Of course I don't mean to be exclusive but I don't think it's much to ask, one little exhibition which celebrates the feminine.  I've just re-read Richard Dorment's top five exhibitions for 2009 - Baroque (Bernini, Borromini, Tiepolo); Futurism (Boccioni, Severini, Carra and  Balla); Palladio; Van Dyke; and Constable.  I might be wrong but aren't these all blokes?  Anyway enough of my feeble feminist ranting... here is a story for the boys.
 
One of the joys of working on a major exhibition is the opportunity to acquire objects for the collection.  In 2007 the V&A acquired a military quilt at auction, which was documented as being made by a William Brayley, who served in the Devonshire Regiment in India in the 1880s.  A trawl of the Muster Rolls at The National Archives at Kew revealed no evidence of a William Brayley - the frustration at not being able to confirm the identity of our maker was immense. 
 
But research is all about searching for different avenues of enquiry.  A chance conversation with a friend resulted in another lead - before 1880 The Devonshire Regiment was known as The Eleventh of Foot with two battalions described as 1st/11th and 2nd/11th.  A very generous Devon historian found reference to a Francis Brayley who was buried in the village of Mariansleigh on 28 March 1880.
 
According to regimental history, the 1st/11th Foot left England in 1863 returning home thirteen years later in April 1877.  Full of anticipation I returned to The National Archives, calling up the Muster Rolls for the 1st/11th Foot for April 1877, their last month on detachment to India.  There, indeed, was the name Francis Brayley, Private, Regimental Number 435.
 

T.58-2007 pieced wool hexagons, probably made by Francis Brayley, India, 1863-77
 
Private Brayley arrived back with his Battalion in April.  In May, one month later he married Mary Ann Ash in the Parish of South Molton.  Sadly three years later on the 21st March 1880 Francis Brayley died, cause of death Phthisis, better known as tuberculosis.  Their son, William was eleven months old.  Did Francis make his quilt as a wedding present for his patient bride to be, or did he acquire it as a souvenir - a reminder of his thirteen years loyal service to Queen and Country?  One thing is for certain - Mary Ann treasured her quilt, a lasting memento of her brief but (we hope) loving marriage.
 

I love this time of year - I've been fortunate enough during my career to travel widely to exotic climes.  Over the past two years I have spoken at conferences in Sydney and Honolulu and have missed the onset of autumn.  Last week I travelled to York to attend the opening of Japanese Sashiko Textiles at York Art Gallery.  I looked forward to spending two hours on the train revisiting Mavis Fitzrandolph's book 'Traditional Quilting'.  Within 20 minutes of leaving London, however, I was engrossed in staring out of the window watching the pasting scenery - the glorious sight of the turning leaves and the gently changing patterns of the landscape almost made my heart ache.  This feeling of melancholy was perhaps a combination of the approaching season, maybe a reflection on the lives of the women described by Fitzrandolph, even an acknowledgement that within a few days I would be reaching my half century.
 
The opening reception was in full swing by the time I arrived at the Gallery and I took the opportunity to wander into the exhibition before the rest of the guests.  The extraordinary display of traditional sashiko workwear, and images of the last surviving generation of women who both wore and made it was beautifully conceived but also sensitively curated.  I have known Michele Walker for a number of years and she has often spoken of her trips to Japan and the importance of recording and narrating the story of women who have so little recognition within their own culture. 
 

T6:2-2009 Study for Memoriam, plastic, wire wool and lace, Michele Walker, 2002
 
It was my discovery of Michele's own artistic practice which planted the seeds of the V&A exhibition - much of her work unites personal testimony with social and political commentary.  Yet it is Michele's interest in traditional quilt making and the mostly undocumented lives of the working class women who made them which intrigued me the most.  I come from generations of women who cleaned other people's homes for a living, who raised and loved their children yet have no place in the history books.  My grandmother's legacy lives through me, her love of making and teaching me the fundamental basics of 'make do and mend', cutting out zips for reuse, turning collars and sheets and darning socks.  'Pippy' will never be referenced in the history books - perhaps this is why I have made it my mission to celebrate all the unknown makers of some of the most beautiful and evocative quilts in the Museum's collection.
 
You can read more about Michele Walker's 'Memoriam' in the V&A's on-line journal http://www.vam.ac.uk/res_cons/research/online_journal/journal_1_index/keepsakes/index.html
 Japanese Sashiko Textiles, York Art Gallery, 10 October 2009-24 January 2010 see http://www.yorkartgallery.org.uk
 

This week I was going to share with you my meditations on my journey to York to see Japanese Sashiko Textiles however our design team have asked me to put out a call for volunteers. Ever mindful of the needs of our audience we would like three volunteers to join us at the V&A for a Focus Group session to test the prototypes for our labels and graphic panels for the exhibition.  For very practical reasons you will need to live within the Greater London area and be able to travel to South Kensington.  We will imburse reasonable travel expenses.
The date set for for the Focus Group is Thursday 22 October at 12.00.  If you are interested in participating please email your contact details to marketing@vam.ac.uk by 12.00 noon on Friday 16 October.  Names will be selected at random and you will be contacted in due course.
Look forward to hearing from you!
 

What a week!  Suddenly everything is starting to come together which is exhilarating - the adrenalin rush of careering from one meeting to the next, pitching ideas one minute and listening to pitches the next is intoxicating.  At the back of my mind I know there will be this terrible crash once the exhibition opens - when the baby is delivered, the flowers received (hopefully) and the visitors have come and gone.  Everyone knows that exhibition blues happen around about a year before the show opens and inevitably once it has closed - you need to start preparing yourself for the come down.
 
But that is all in the future - we spent this week pouring over the detailed design drawings, our last opportunity to contribute feedback before the design goes to tender.  We were frantically 'mocking' up layouts for cases, substituting boxes of teabags in place of precious 17th century caskets, tangerines for exquisite 18th century pin cushions.  Thank goodness we all grew up watching Blue Peter!  
 
Meanwhile my office is in a state of chaos - as the deadlines for two journal articles approached I threw myself into writing with a vengeance. Papers are scattered across every surface; negotiating a path through the piles of books and drafts from the desk to the door has become a health and safety issue.  There are numerous unanswered emails which are crying out for attention and I desperately need to book an appointment to get my eyes tested.  I've resorted to bad habits - grabbing a bag of crisps on the run and stocking the fridge with chocolate, with numerous cups of tea to sustain me through the long hours sat in front of the computer.  Just when I start to despair the colour proofs for the book arrive on my desk - the months of writing and editing, of sourcing and finding exactly the right image to illustrate the text, the hours of proof reading and cross checking have finally come to fruition.  Forget tidying my office, this weekend I'm going to read Quilts 1700-2010 - one last indulgence before this particular baby leaves home and goes out into the big wide world.
                                  

 
You can pre-order your copy of Quilts 1700-2010 via the V&A website see http://www.vandashop.com
 

 
I have been judged and found wanting - all over the country quilted effigies of Sue Prichard are being stabbed with pins.  To be honest I didn't realise that the offending article 'Quilts come in from the cold' had created such a flurry of responses.  It’s a very odd thing being thrust into the public sphere - you certainly don't enter into the profession with the express wish of becoming public property.  It wasn't until I started to receive the emails addressed to 'Dear Ms Pritchard' that I realised anything was amiss (where did that ‘t’ come from?).  
 
Of course you should never, ever google yourself - what I found was a bit of a surprise - not least the assumption that I obviously hadn't done my research and that quilting did not need the V&A to inspire a revival.  I had to decide whether to enter the fray and defend my honour or sit back and accept that all publicity is good publicity - after all since when had the national press taken such a lively interest in what I had been told was a 'niche' exhibition? 
 
So just to reassure everyone that I do indeed leave the 'environs of South Kensington' to discover that quilting is alive and well. I recently popped into the Dragonfly Quilters Quilt Show in Deal held over the August Bank Holiday weekend (actually I went twice - the husband said the cakes were excellent) and last weekend managed to get up to Norwich to see the Sewell Park Quilters and Patchworkers 20th Anniversary Quilt Show.  Special congratulations to Primrose Cross - I loved your cat quilt! 
 
So whilst I’m always happy to receive your emails, please, please, please enough with the Ms Pritchard  – it is and always has been Sue Prichard …. Without the ‘t’!
 
 
 
 
 

I am constantly amazed by the way in which seemingly disconnected individuals and events are linked through time and space.  My father, a butcher by trade spent his weekends and holidays fishing.  Every year we would spend two weeks in a small fishing town on the South East Kent coast.  Each evening we would pack our rods and bags and set out at 7.00pm to spend a couple of hours in companionable silence casting our rods from Deal Pier.  This was perhaps a surprising past time for a teenage girl; however the bond between father and daughter was one which continues to resonate in my life long after my father's death.  
 
Thirty years later I started my research for the quilt exhibition; working through the V&A's collection I discovered a small silk velvet and satin patchwork cot cover, said to have been made by Priscilla Redding (1654-1723).  Priscilla was the daughter of Captain Samuel Tavenor, once the Governor of Deal Castle, after her marriage in 1691 she settled in Dover where the family established a church and grocery shop.   In the course of our research we discovered that Priscilla also kept a diary, which chronicled the personal and political life of her family.  Her father, a Baptist preacher was persecuted for 'not conforming to the worshipe of the nation'.  Throughout her diary Priscilla's support for her father is unwavering - at one point he is forced to leave his family and seek refuge in London.  On her death, Priscilla handed both the cot quilt and her diary to her daughter Susanna who also inherited the role of family chronicler.  Separated at some point in the 19th century, we have been able to locate Priscilla's diary and it will be reunited with the cot quilt for the first time in the exhibition.   
 

 
Small quilted patchwork cover, silk velvets and satins, Priscilla Redding, cica 1690s, T.615-1996
 
 
Since my father's death I have made my home in Deal - every Saturday I walk to the local market and pass the Castle, once home to Priscilla and her father, Captain Tavenor.  The view across the sea towards France is much the same as it was in the seventeenth century - although with far less fishing boats, and the addition of the pier.  Sometimes I sit and think about my past; sometimes I think about Priscilla - occasionally I consider how strange it is that a small cot quilt has brought two seemingly random women together, separated by over three hundred years.  What I wonder, would the Governor's daughter think of the fisherman's daughter?
 
You can read more about Priscilla's life in Claire Smith's case study in the exhibition publication Quilts 1700-2010 Hidden Histories, Untold Stories.
 

I have no more words to give.  I'm all worded out - if you ask me what I've been doing all day my mind goes blank, I can't even remember what I had for lunch (if I had lunch).  We had our press launch on Wednesday morning - weeks of preparation, proofing press releases, rehearsing the presentation, refining the images, ensuring the key messages were embedded within the presentation.  Suddenly you're standing before the assembled throng - there is a lot riding on this.  You need to be engaging, entertaining and above all informative.  Then its all over, you've done the Q&A session, had the individual interview with the Guardian and you're back in the office.  Suddenly you're doing telephone interviews with the Telegraph, the Evening Standard and the Times.  You've done this so many times now you're getting quite good at it (or so you believe......)
 

T.428-1985 'Chapman' Patchwork Coverlet, 1829
 
I was fascinated by the coverage next day - the three nationals all picked up on the intriguing story of the Chapman Coverlet and the rather more macabre origins of what was believed to be a love poem between John and Elisabeth Chapman.  Suddenly you realise that you have released a monster - you have no control over what journalists choose to interpret, or what spin they decide to put on your story.  Luckily most of the coverage was positive but suddenly being in the public domain has been a bit of a shock!
 
Off to spend a week at home before the colour proofs come back for the exhibition catalogue, the practical patchwork publication, the exhibition texts and final round of budget reviews for the exhibition design.  Excellent feedback from our Project Team Meeting today - we're on the case for the commemorative panel, the call for papers for the conference has now gone live see http://www.vam.ac.uk/activ_events/courses/conferences/index.html and tickets for the exhibition are selling like hot cakes.  A reminder to book your tickets well in advance particularly if you are travelling some distance - we anticipate some days being sold out and we don't want to disappoint anyone!