A little girl spent every summer wandering around the V&A with her grandparents. Like all little girls she was entranced by the Costume Court but above all she was intrigued by the signs that stated ‘Private – Staff Only’. What went on behind those doors, what hidden secrets and undiscovered treasures could be found if one only had the key to unlock the past? No-one could have predicted that forty years later that same little girl would be curating a major exhibition at the same Museum.
 
I have often been asked how it is that I have come to curate Quilts 1700-2010 – there is of course no easy answer to this. Like many, I joined the profession because I am passionate about objects, their ability to communicate across the centuries, to reveal stories about the past. For many years my roles had always been administrative or operational – supervising film crews, ensuring objects, curators and technicians were all in the right place at the right time, managing stores and galleries. In 2001 I left the Tate to join the V&A where I had the opportunity to work directly with the contemporary textile collection – I was also lucky enough to find an extraordinary mentor in my colleague Linda Parry.   Linda supported and encouraged me through a series of proposals for small textile displays drawn from the collection including Recent Acquisitions 1992-2002: A Decade of Collecting Textiles; Concealed-Discovered-Revealed: New Work by Sue Lawty  and Penelope’s Thread: Tapestry from the Permanent Collection. At this point I was mulling over the idea of a small quilt display – the Head of Exhibitions had just returned from seeing the Gee’s Bend exhibition in the States and suddenly I was invited to put forward a proposal for a major quilt exhibition.
 
That was nearly six years ago – and I can still remember the horror of walking into a room full of senior managers from across the Museum and giving my first ever powerpoint presentation. At this point I had made my first visit to the Festival of Quilts to evaluate the exhibition's core audience. I had spent the whole of my visit to Birmingham taking photographs of the crowds – communicating their enthusiasm for quilt-making throughout the presentation, emphasising the importance of exhibiting the V&A’s collection for the first time and of working with contemporary artists. Above all this exhibition would be about the relevance of British quilt making, the significance of the collection and inspiring a new generation to take up their needles. The exhibition proposal was accepted – and I wandered out of the meeting in a daze.
 
Since then the exhibition has passed through various checks and balances – numerous presentations to sponsors, trustees, various departments across the museum including Press and Marketing, Learning and Interpretation, Design, etc etc. Retaining the vision of the original concept has been at times difficult – some causes you fight, some you have to lose. You are never ever allowed to forget that the reputation of the V&A rests on the quality of its exhibitions and publications. I know I have driven some of my colleagues to distraction - you have put yourself on the line, raised your head above the parapet – every morning you put on your armour of thick skin, pack your bag of resilience and good humour and once again enter the fray. As we have only weeks before the opening I look back and wonder – would I have done anything differently? The answer – as you will have guessed by now – is no.  Whatever the outcome one thing is certain – that little girl is still enthralled by the hidden secrets and undiscovered treasures behind the door mark ‘Private – Staff Only’ – only now she gets to share them with you.
 

 
I was sorting mine out last week in preparation for a photo shoot (at home with the Prichards – complete with husband making like Keith Floyd, whisk in one hand, glass of red in the other). As I looked at the scattered fabrics across the floor, my past flashed before my eyes. The spriggy Laura Ashley prints (my 18th birthday party dress), the deckchair stripes (a beach skirt I made for my first back packing holiday to Greece), the black and white polka dot (a gorgeous dress, which made me feel like a Vogue model, complete with signature red lipstick). I still remember the thrill of excitement as I twirled in front of the mirror – confident in the knowledge that I would never meet anyone with exactly the same outfit. Over thirty years had passed – where had the time gone – career, marriage, children (quilt exhibition), the hours spent at my machine had been replaced by more urgent tasks. 
 
As I considered my past, I reflected on the lives of the makers of some of the most beautiful quilts in the exhibition. The quilted patchwork cover made from sumptuous silk ribbons – most dating from the 1720s and 1740s was said to have been for Mary Parker’s wedding in 1770, in the town of Crediton. Who collected all those ribbons for nearly twenty years, who secreted them away, waiting for that special occasion when they could stitch their stash into a wedding gift? Did Mary herself discover the ribbons, packed away in a box, perhaps on a dusty shelf, and then make the quilt herself?   

 
Bedcover, quilted patchwork, possibly Mary Parker, Crediton, mid eighteenth century T.19-1987
 
As I sat among my scattered past I wondered who would inherit my fabric stash – my daughters, my grand-daughters? Would the memories fade with the fabrics, or would dates and names become confused, become the subject of myths and misconceptions? Who in the future would speculate on this life lived and the fabric it represents?
 
Enough of these morbid thoughts of my own mortality. Its Friday and time for some on line shopping. The V&A has just launched its limited edition fabrics based on the historic collection in time for the exhibition opening. This is truly soft porn for fabric fantasists – over 18 gorgeous designs in printed cotton which is being sold by metre as well as fat quarters. Hands off the fabulous Shell and Seed Head (in Blue) – although the India Flower (Green) and Stripes (Pink) would make a significant contribution to my stash. Where to start …. Where to stop……..
 

 
Seaweed/Blue
 
The V&A fabrics will be available in the V&A Shop from March 2010 or order on line http://www.vandashop.com/section.php?xSec=357.  See also American Vogue's coverage of the fabrics at
http://origin.www.style.com/vogue/voguedaily/2010/01/victoria-and-albert-museums-vintage-fabrics/
 

 
Palm Tree/Green
 
 

Pottered in this morning, full of the joys of spring (well almost) - opened the emails and found a flurry of activity re my last posting.  Just to reassure everyone that there will be a total of 300 tickets available for the conference, and only just over a third have been released for groups (strictly limited - no additional discounted has been offered for groups).
 
Which leaves nearly 200 tickets available - as soon as our Learning & Interpretation team give me the nod that these are going on sale you will be the first to know.  In the meantime, our intrepid team are exploring all options to ensure that anyone who wants access to the content of the conference can get it.
 
And, strictly between ourselves, I found out that the V&A shop have some fabulous ideas for the exhibition - my lips are sealed but I'm hoping to reveal more later this week........
 

There I was - on the one hand revelling in my new found freedom from meetings and on the other feeling abandoned when suddenly Team Quilts sprang back into action.  We have a new lead on the maker of the George III Revewing the Troops coverlet - can we fit in a quick research trip before we start to install?  Can I really accept an invitation to the Tokyo International Great Quilt Festival due to open next week?  Back to back press interviews are lining up and at some point I really need to get the washing machine fixed (the husband stopped seeing the funny side of sharing his bath with my underwear a week ago).
 
In between all this our Learning and Interpretation team are demanding  the draft programme for the conference.  We had a huge response to our call for papers with an extraordinary range of new and exciting research in the field.  Shortlisting has taken place and this weekend I will be putting together what we hope will be a varied and exciting programme of national and international speakers. 
 
130 tickets for the conference will be released on Monday 18 January for group (10+) bookings only.  These can only be booked by calling the V&A Booking Office on 020 7942 2211 NOT online.  The remaining tickets will be released when What's On (April - June) - the V&A events guide goes out at the end of February, beginning of March.  The Booking Office is open from 009.00 - 5.45 pm every day.
 
The V&A Learning and Interpretation team have been busy working on a fabulous programme of quilt-related events including a huge patchwork social planned for the May bank holiday (more details to come).  Our Membership Office have planned a special curators' talk for Friday 19 March with priority access to the exhibition for all members (see http://www.vam.ac.uk/support_us/membership_2009/index.html) and even more exciting I get to do my first book signing!  Shallow I know but even the faintest whiff of being a celebrity is enough to spur me on to book that makeover. 

Advertisment for Sunlight Soap, from the Illustrated London News, April 30th 1832 (NAL 172935)
 
Meanwhile, back in the real world I'm wondering ... should I ditch the washing machine or the husband ........?
 
 

.... no I didn't get a sable under my tree but violet creams were definitely the present du jour, along with a rather fabulous crushed raspberry coloured quilted hot water bottle cover. This Christmas I battened down the hatches and spent 12 days esconced with several good books, plenty of hot milk and a couple of box sets of DVDs supplied by the daughters - bliss.  I was also intrigued by the press response to the cold weather.  Am I not alone in remembering intensely cold winters - as I child I grew up in a home without central heating.  We were sent to bed with bed socks, hot water bottles, two blankets and a quilt piled up with just our eyes and ears showing.  Actually not much has changed for me - except the bed socks are now cashmere rather than hand made by my grandfather from odd scraps.   It seems we have forgotten how to keep warm.
 
 

 
Sir John Everett Millais, Sleeping, c.1865
 
I returned to work, refreshed and revitalised - and then suddenly realised we have less than three months to go before we open.  I'm feeling strangely calm, is this normal?  Surely I should be worrying about something?  Or is it simply that at this stage, the show WILL go on - with me or without me?  I suppose it's a bit like sending your child to school - once through the school gates the responsibility is handed over to someone else, and so it is with the exhibition.  My diary seems strangely empty as I'm not needed at meetings, decisions are being made elsewhere and I can concentrate on writing articles and gearing up for installation.  If I feel slightly lost now - how on earth will I feel when the exhibition closes................?

to count our blessings.  Before I sign off for the Christmas holidays I would like to share with you some very poignant and extraordinary stories.
 
The first revolves around a young girl of 15, exiled from her family for stealing a length of printed cotton and sentenced to seven years' transportation.  Grace Stevens set sail for Van Dieman's land on board HMS Rajah in 1841.  In contemporary accounts Grace was described as a housemaid, or nurse girl; a red head with florid complextion and light blue eyes.  She had a scar on the thumb of her left hand. 
 
The nineteenth century prison reformer Elizabeth Fry became one of the leading exponents of the importance of rehabilitation for prisoners.  Her small band of like minded women worked directly with incarcated women and children supplying much needed food and clothing, but also teaching and providing spiritual guidance.  They also supplied the sewing materials required to create 'The Rajah Quilt', the only known transportation quilt in a public collection, stitched by some of the 180 women on board HMS Rajah.
 
We don't know whether Grace contributed to the quilt, however we do know that Grace served her seven years, but did not return to England.  She was married twice, and had ten children.  In her obituary, written some fifty years after her arrival in Launceston Grace was described as 'Granny .... [who had] a host of sincere friends, who esteemed her kindly disposition and motherly advice' and who regretted 'her somewhat sudden demise'. 
 
 
Grace Dewhurst (nee Stevens)
 
Over the past three years I have been working directly the prison charity Fine Cell Work and the all male quilting group in HMP Wandsworth on a new commission for Quilts 1700-2010.  The commission set out to articulate the reality and experience of incarceration through stitch, culminating in a vivid and highly personalised account of both individual and collective experiences of 21st century prison life.  Each individual hexagon was stitched within the confines of the cell, some are humourous, others are indicative of the despair and desolation of the prison system.  Many men speak of the comfort stitching can bring, the rhythmic co-ordination of hand and eye acting as a form of meditation, a refocusing of the mind, offering an opportunity to create something of worth in the most abject of circumstances. 
 
 
 
The HMP Wandsworth Quilt designed and made by the men of HMP Wandsworth
 
The seeds of the idea for the Fine Cell collaboration were planted by research into the origins of Elizabeth Fry's prison reform movement.  Grace's story offers hopes of redemption, a life both celebrated and mourned.  Separated by 150 years the HMP Wandsworth quilt also acts as a beacon of hope, of inspiration and creativity and the possibility of other lives touched by the power of stitch.  You will have the chance to see both quilts on display next March.
 
At this time of year, and in the most difficult of times, we all have the opportunity to reflect on our lives - may I take this opportunity to wish you all a very Merry Christmas and a peaceful and hopeful 2010.
 
With very many thanks to Hazel Kerr for her generosity in sharing her great grandmother's story with me.

Apologies for the rather patchy postings - a combination of technical hitches and label deadlines.  It's been a stressful couple of weeks - culminating in my 30 second appearance on Newsnight.  I'm not sure what was worse - coming face to face with my various facial tics, the ums and aahs or realising that my comments about new domesticity made no sense as a sound bite.  I've been waiting for the fall out - it's bound to be out there somewhere, who can forget 'the article that dare not speak its name.....'
 
Of course the point I was trying to make, however badly, was that a number of women (and men) are re-evaluating their lives.  I am sure I am not along in indulging in secret fantasies about giving up work to channel my inner Nigella, baking delicious cup cakes and inviting my friends around for afternoon tea.  Economic reality means that this remains a fantasy for many, including me, but the current interest in making and baking, the increasing popularity of the WI and a desire to learn skills related to the domestic suggests an increasing dissatisfaction with the workplace. 
 
I was mulling this over as I trudged home last night at 9.00pm; as I passed my neighbours' doors I looked wistfully at their wreaths and garlands, the home made decorations and festive lights.  I thought about a member of the V&A patchwork group, stitching beautiful little patchwork stars to send as Christmas cards to her family and special friends.  I arrived home to find the husband making jam, his way of unwinding after a particularly unproductive day.  I decided that this weekend I would abandon the laptop, dig out my mother's three tier cake stand ... and invite everyone over for tea.  Lavender cupcake anyone?
 
You can see a slideshow of the V&A patchwork group as part of the Newsnight 'make do and mend' series at http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/programmes/newsnight/8364437.stm 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Nipped up to Manchester the weekend before last (if you can actually nip anywhere on the rail network at weekends) to spend a couple of hours at ‘See, Sew and Chat with Jenni’ at Manchester Art Gallery. I first saw Jennifer Vicker's work when judging ‘Quilt 2005’ at the NEC in Birmingham. Jennifer’s machined stitched newspaper quilt ‘Yesterday’s News’ was a potent commentary on the throwaway sentiments used by the tabloid press to discuss the ‘War on Terror’. I campaigned vigorously among the other judges to award first prize – and almost came to fisticuffs with one in particular (yes, you know who you are!) Jennifer was awarded a highly commended and ‘Yesterday’s News’ was acquired by the Whitworth Art Gallery – a fitting home for an extraordinary work.
 

Since then I have often thought of Jennifer – and was thrilled to be able to collaborate on a new piece of work for the exhibition.  ‘The Presence of Absence’ builds on the work involved in ‘Yesterday’s News’ and explores the representation of memory in museums, memorials and the public sphere. Jennifer speaks eloquently and passionately about her new work, in opposition to traditional memorials of stone and marble, ‘The Presence of Absence’ will be constructed from 1cm squares of paper, and each individual square will represent a military or civilian casualty of the second Iraq War. The quilt will comprise over 38,000 squares listed in proportion to the sequence of deaths occurring between the start of the war and the 100th British military fatality.
 

I joined Jennifer to contribute to the quilt – throughout the two hours I was there people dropped in, mothers and fathers with small babies, museum colleagues, quilters and friends.  We talked as we sewed, we had tea and biscuits and eventually the time came for me to catch my train back to London.  As I walked through the city to Manchester Piccadilly I passed throngs of people, the shops were full, music was playing – despite the rain shopping appears to be the pastime of choice for many. As I sat on the train I reflected on my time spent with people I’d only just met, commemorating in stitch people we had never known.  I feel honoured to have played even such a small part in such a momentous work.

If you would like to contribute to ‘The Presence of Absence’ please contact Jennifer jennifer.vickers@hotmail.co.uk

 
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.