Day 222 - Crewel pillowcase

 November 14, 2020

This was probably my second least satisfying visit to the Met. (The least satisfying was the Monday morning I arrived only to find that the museum was closed in preparation for the Fashion Institute gala.) For one thing, I decided I'd try out my Thierry Rabotin shoes, which are ridiculously expensive, good-looking,  and comfortable enough around the house or for walking short distances.  That turned out to be a mistake: the footbeds have very little padding, and the wavy wedge soles left me feeling off-balance. After walking about 20 minutes in them, I decided to hop the bus rather than walk the extra 15 minutes across Central Park. 

When I reached the museum, I learned that galleries 513 and 514 are both closed due to Covid restrictions. On the surface, I understand this: Gallery 513 is small and narrow, with only a few display cases, and access to gallery 514 is through Gallery 513. That said, these galleries are very sparsely attended anyway - I've rarely seen more than two or maybe at the most four other people in any room in the new British galleries. I peeked into gallery 515, a big, cold room filled with neoclassical statuary, and couldn't motivate myself to spend time there today. Besides, I was immediately drawn to the crewel work pillowcase that is today's object, which I could easily see from behind the cordon that blocked entrance into Gallery 513. .

But  - and here was the biggest problem - I couldn't  read the signage describing this piece and one hanging over it with any degree of ease: my distance lenses aren't adequately corrected, and the text is far enough away that my reading glasses didn't work, either. I could just make out that the top piece is a panel made in India, while this bottom one was made in 18th century Britain.  I think what we are supposed to take away is that the rich colors and fine workmanship of Indian textiles proved appealing to British consumers and spurred the development of embroidery in Britain. But it was frustrating to bend and twist this way and that and still not be able to read most of what appears on the placards. 

But back to the pillowcase, which I estimate to be about 28" X 18" and was made in Britain in the early 18th century:  It's a lovely piece depicting flowers and leaves and finely embroidered in light and dark shades of rose, blue, green, and gold, all on an off-white background that appears to be quilted. The flowers are quite stylized, but I think I recognize carnations and tulips. Darker stitching is often used to trace  the outlines of the flowers, but sometimes the reverse is true: lighter colors define the outlines and darker colors the individual petals.  This makes for an effect that's subtly varied but also highly harmonious. 

At first, I read the caption wrong and thought that the object was a placemat, though it seemed very large for that purpose, and I couldn't imagine the beating the fabric would take from frequent laundering. (I pictured big haunches of roast beef or venison dripping with fat.) It makes a lot more sense as a pillowcase-  but as a decorative pillowcase only! Who would want such a lovely piece to be soiled by pomade or by powder from a wig?  

One further thought: I read on the museum's website that textile production was hugely important to the 18th century British economy. And I wonder: is the background fabric for this pillowcase cotton? And if so, is it cotton from the Americas, and the product of slavery?