Jesus is Laid in the Tomb

Each year parishioners at St. Patrick's Episcopal Church in Atlanta volunteer to create a 24x30 inch piece of art to hang in the Nave (called the sanctuary in some churches). The work centers around Lent and there is usually a Starving Artists' dinner of soup and bread. Each artist describes the piece to be presented, explaining what it meant to them personally and how they proceeded. These are primarily paintings. Later, after the pieces are hung, there is a formal Stations of the Cross service in the Nave and all parishioners are invited. This has been going on for more than 20 years now. Last year, due to Covid, we never took our pieces to church. But we still made them and we shared over zoom.  Our church has been closed for more than a year now. This year, as we see the light at the end of the tunnel, the pieces will be hung in the church, but without the in-person Starving Artists' dinner. There is hope that we will meet inside our church again before too long and can see one another's pieces in person. My piece is for the last station, Jesus is Laid in the Tomb. What follows is my story:

When I try to imagine Israel, I see sharp rocks, layers of sand, and shades of brown, with a bright sky above it all. When I try to imagine Jesus laid in a tomb, I imagine barely visible caves, deep shadows, and dark curves. As I began to create my station of the cross for this year, that is what I tried to create by piecing fabric together, with some curves and some sharp edges.

 It felt chaotic, as I imagined the minutes and hours following Jesus' death on the cross. 

I tried to represent that frightful time with swirls of quilted hand stitch, in shades from bright white to dark brown, nearly black.

And then he is laid in a tomb, wrapped in a shroud, still, quiet, dark. 

As he remains there, something begins to happen. 

His shroud becomes transparent – ethereal, I hope. He begins to transform. I hope you can see his shroud in the lower left-hand corner, made with French knots to maintain the layering of the story. 

As he rises, a wing opens, in the middle. Another wing is forming.

 

In the upper right-hand corner, he takes flight in the form of a dove, still transparent and continuing to change. 

Rise, Jesus, rise.

 

Wedding Dresses

Recently I've been thinking about weddings and wedding dresses. My niece became engaged in February with the hope that they would be married this year. Chelsea has been a bride's maid for probably twenty friends or more, so I'm thinking she visualized a large wedding with a good size wedding party.

But I was not totally surprised when she announced this past weekend that they are having a super small wedding rather than waiting for the virus to go away. I am sad that I cannot be there, really sad. But this gave me an excuse to pull out my maternal grandmother's wedding dress and send it to Chelsea, in case she can incorporate it in some way.

After I had been married a number of years, my mother mentioned to me that she had her mother's wedding dress. I was very surprised because I had made my own wedding dress. I wondered if I would have used it in any way, had I known she had it.

1970

My mother married toward the end of World War II and so had a very small wedding. I don't think she ever thought about keeping something from her wedding. She wore a pink wool suit. I expect, given the war times, she probably needed to wear it, and she wore it out.

1945

I never knew my maternal grandmother. She was pregnant with my mother during the great influenza outbreak and died from flu-related pneumonia a few days after Mother was born, December 31, 1918.

My maternal grandmother (light hair) with her older sister.

As we experience another world-wide pandemic, I continue to wonder about my grandmother. I've never really sorted out the design of her dress. There are no wedding pictures, and my own mother had no knowledge of her parents' wedding.

Grandmother with my uncle Ed, who was a few years older than my mother.

It is made of either cotton or silk organza, edged in lace. It is all very sheer, so I imagine she wore a full slip, and even white stockings underneath it all. I believe it is what is called tea length.

I think the waistline is slightly raised. The bodice has a V neck and snaps up the front. It has a blouson effect at the waistline. The back of the bodice is solid and extremely sheer with a double layer across the shoulder blades. The back neckline also has a little pleated lacy flounce attached. The set-in sleeves appear to be 3/4 length with a lace edging on the organza. 

The skirt was gathered onto Petersham that is about 1.25 inch wide. The Petersham is turned down. The skirt has an opening at the back that is about 6 inches long. Like the front, it closes with snaps.

There are two layers to the skirt. The upper skirt is wider and has a lace border that is most intense near its hem. The under skirt is about 6-8 inches longer than the upper skirt. The lining is more narrow and has pin tucks near the hem. The hem is finished with a row of lace like that on the sleeve hems.

Then there is a sheer sleeveless bolero or vest that I assume slips over the bodice with the back neckline flounce pulled to the right side. It has V neckline that is deeper than the bodice and closes in the front with a large covered button and snap.

The skirt was only half attached to the bodice so, in order to get a better understanding of it, I basted the rest together. 

It looks like the Petersham, and the skirt, and the bodice are only basted together. The entire garment appears to be stitched by hand, so it's hard to be sure if it was basting or permanent.

This brings me to the mysterious part. You may have noticed that the bodice opens in the front and the skirt opens in the back. So, unless she was sewn into it, I cannot figure how she put it on.

Probably about 1916 with my grandfather and uncle Ed.

She married June 21, 1915 in Ellis County, Texas (USA), probably in or near Maypearl. I have a few pictures of her, as you can see. After writing most of this post, I uncovered an additional picture of my grandmother. As I look closely, I'm quite certain that she is wearing the dress we thought to be her wedding dress. She is pictured again with my uncle, so some years after her wedding. 

 

All these decades, we have thought this was her wedding dress. Now I'm pretty sure we were wrong. I'm still glad we kept it. It is a sweet example of sewing from more than 100 years ago.

From the front with the bolero/vest over the bodice

 

Maybe she wearing her wedding dress here. It does look like a wedding portrait. 

Gracious Lady

One of the first times I met Ruta, she was seated next to me in my first class with ASG Atlanta. Marsha McClintock was teaching a class using her Portlandia pattern, an interesting and fun pattern for a hooded coat.

We introduced ourselves and I learned that Ruta was president of ASG Atlanta. I learned this in the quiet way that Ruta had about her.

Later I learned that she was a retired researcher with a PhD from Berkeley, a veteran, mother, grandmother, wife. Much later I learned these things about Ruta.

Ruta's clothing aesthetic and construction is legendary. But I did not learn that the first time I met her either.

Here is just one example of her work. As a member of  Association of Sewing and Design Professionals, she created a half-scale reproduction of this Vionnet gown. Hers is featured in Threads.

Ruta accomplished these and many other things after retiring.

Her own clothes were impeccable and she always looked pulled together, yet entirely relaxed and cheerful.

She continued even after her diagnosis of ALS. Almost a year ago, she was interviewed for City-Wide Couture here in Atlanta. We were treated to a review of her sewing journey. In addition to many of her sewing admirers, her husband attended the interview and a granddaughter modeled her clothes.

One garment of hers has special meaning for me. The two of us were browsing in Louise Cutting's booth at a sewing expo. Ruta spotted this fabric first.

This is a beefy hand-painted cotton. It was expensive. Ruta hesitated. We talked about it. Finally I told her that if she did NOT buy it, then I would. She promptly bought the rest of the bolt! So for a long time, I teased her about stealing that fabric from me. And that's the way I remember it.

Of course, only Ruta could have done it justice, selecting this distinctive Geoffrey Beene design from Vogue patterns.

Notice how she used some of the hand-painted cotton on the hem portion over the hips because it shows when you move. The lining is a perfect color of Bemberg Ambiance. 

The beautifully finished cuffs, the careful placement of fabric in the triangular insert in the back - it was all carefully and artfully composed. Finally she chose a special closure.

A dear mutual friend of ours told her husband a bit of the story of this fabric recently. He then gave the jacket to me. Thank you, Roger. Thank you, Lorraine. Thank you, Ruta.

What a treasure. It is now hanging in my sewing room, reminding me of Ruta. And I miss you, gracious lady.

Dr. Ruta Jonavic Wilk

1941-2014

Old Laredo

When I was growing up, my great-great uncle lived in Laredo. He was like a father to my mother, and my father loved him too. We saw him often.

He lived in Laredo for most of his life. He knew everyone, or at least that's the way I remember him. We would drive over to Nuevo Laredo and have enchiladas at the Cadillac Bar because Uncle Gordon once loaned the owner $50 to start the business. You couldn't drink the water so I got to order Coke.

I cannot remember much about his house, but I do remember his back yard where the grapefruit trees grew. Gorgeous yellow spheres with ruby red fruit inside. A crate of them almost always arrived at our doorway close to Christmas.

Perfect with a pinch of salt.