The amazing wealth of glorious designs available today is not least amongst the great benefits of living in this age rather than one of those fascinating earlier periods.
We have unlimited access to the resources of the world and the experience and techniques generated through past centuries. The richness of the heritage from which we can so readily seek counsel and inspiration, with the availability of both natural and manmade materials should enable us to create some of the finest achievements of all time. But the trends of the 20th century have unfortunately not yet produced needlework of that excellence.
Although it is still too early to judge, it would at present appear that since the end of the 19th century, needlework, like most other art forms, has been desperately feeling for a course and experimenting inconsistently in an effort to discover a satisfactory identity. A number of satellite fashions have shone with varying qualities, a few with distinction, but a general theme and direction has not yet been established.
The Embroiderers' Guild, an educational charity, founded in 1906 to promote the craft to the highest possible standards, has been influential in co-ordinating new ideas of design and technique. The Guild also has a substantial historic collection which has recently been moved to the organisation's new headquarters at Hampton Court Palace.
The art of needlework from medieval times progressed in multiple ways, identified and co-ordinated by a unity of purpose and feeling which disciplined and contributed to skills and designs. The relatively recent lack of integration originated only in the last century when no permanent form emerged after a series of revivals. William Morris was the principal pioneer of the modern movement but failed narrowly to achieve a style descendant from the wide scope of historical and cultural forms which had influenced him. He was perhaps too retrospective in his approach, neglecting the philosophy of contemporary technical achievements, and unable to accept the benefits they had to offer.
Machinery superseded many domestic crafts but did not threaten needlework since its products replaced only what had already become artless. Some forms of mass-produced embroidery were still carried out by hand, as at Arthur H. Lee and Sons, of Birkenhead, Cheshire, where decorative crewelwork curtains were made to old designs, with coarse wools and using up to four threads in the needle at once. These and other traditional designs were carried on timelessly as long as fashion demanded. Crewelwork made in India for the European market is still available by the yard in London department stores.
More ambitious attempts at originality with a wide range of materials were tried out simultaneously. Ann Macbeth's designs were distinctly simplified, light and consciously not overworked. She enjoyed considerable success supplying designs to Liberty's and other shops. Elaborate stitching was not much favoured until after the influence of Cubist painters in the I920s, when texture was again considered important.
Three-dimensional effects reminiscent of stumpwork, but much less intricate, were attempted and quick appliqué became fashionable again, often on a huge scale.' Vestments designed by Matisse for the chapel at Venice are of applied work in a strong, bright design. The technique is a very ancient and effective one but often the quality of workmanship is limited.
The celebrated Overlord Embroidery 2 commemorating aspects of the Second World War and made by the Royal School of Needlework is of appliqué and on a massive scale, being 272 feet (83 metres) long and reminiscent of the medieval saga hangings, besides its obvious parallel with the Bayeux Tapestry. Its artistry is in reflecting the illustrative techniques of the period such as newspaper photography; it does this remarkably, and very much with the favoured colours and textures of the times. The subject depicted is suitably momentous and eminently worthy of such a large-scale work.
A less serious but charming hanging, of three panels, totalling about 8ft in length, was designed by Belinda, Lady Montagu to mark, in 1979, the 9th anniversary of the New Forest. It combines, in a rich variety of textures, appliqué work, canvas work and embroidery, and depicts vignettes of historical and social interest within a general theme of natural history.
A number of embroideresses have been prominent in attempting to stimulate fine needlework: The Hon. Mrs Rachel Kay-Shuttleworth (d.i967) was a collector and teacher founding a centre for study at her home, Gawthorpe Hall, Lancashire; Mrs Theodore Roosevelt Jr. (d. 1960), daughter-in-law of the American president, was another notable and versatile embroideress.
Her pictorial designs for screens and pictures contain an element of humour; one picture portrays a 'Sea Serpent' while a screen depicts monkeys swinging about in tropical vegetation. The tradition of patchwork quilting has also been carried on throughout the 20th century in America and in England, where it has taken more the form of a revival.
In canvas embroidery, however, the emphasis has been on novel designs and interesting stitches, a prominent contribution of needlework teachers. A large amount of work has been directed to kneeling hassocks and cushions for churches; many cathedrals have impressive quantities of neat and bright needlework, standing out against a foil of stone and woodwork in majestic settings. Some of the work is rich in design and intricate in workmanship. Good examples can be seen at Lichfield, St Albans, Wells and Exeter cathedrals.
At Winchester, a body of about zoo embroiderers was co-ordinated by Louisa Pesel on a project known as 'A St Swithin's Day Enterprise', making kneelers and cushions. Miss Pesel had previously done needlework for the private chapel of the Bishop of Winchester at Wolvesey, based on 17th-century sampler designs. Artistically and technically she adhered to two fundamental rules that are crucial to successful embroidery. If the work is to be multi-coloured, the variety of stitches must be reasonably limited and conversely, if a variety of stitches is to be displayed, a limited range of colours should be used. In monochrome embroidery a variety of stitches gives shading and textural interest. This was especially a feature of blackwork and early crewelwork.
Nowadays 'serious' modern needlework is made with high pretensions, usually in picture form, or as hangings, often to be regarded as 'fine art'. Divorced from utilitarian characteristics, it is often gross in scale and design and like so much of the 'art' of our times, aims to shock our sensibilities. Some pieces show bold strokes of originality, sometimes in an exciting way but often wild, confused and undisciplined, with little true content.
Beryl Dean however has been responsible for some remarkable pieces which combine a feeling of the times with interesting technical innovations and, above all, appropriateness. Her cope, stole, mitre and morse made for the Bishop of London on the occasion of the Queen's Silver Jubilee in 1977, echo in a collage effect of specific architectural motifs, a sense of binding unity which is embodied in Church and State. The design includes St Paul's Cathedral, seventy-three London churches and two Royal Peculiars. Some modern vestments attempt to draw our attention by the use of brilliant colouring but these Jubilee pieces are especially attractive being worked in subtle and harmonious shades of yellow-golds and silver-greys.
Colour judgement is one of the most important factors of needlework and one of the least understood. The softness, subtlety and brilliance of good dyes are perhaps more crucial even than a good design. Dr Johnson quoted a useful extract from Addison in his Dictionary:
In a curious brede of needlework, one colour falls away by such just degrees, and another rises so insensibly, that we see the variety without being able to distinguish the total vanishing of the one from the first appearance of the other.
This may have been referring to Florentine embroidery but the suggest ion of blending tones is a general lesson for all needlework.
The catchword 'soulless' is sadly as applicable to much modern needlework as to other aspects of contemporary arts and crafts but it is to be hoped that the position will be rectified by a humbler re-examination of the invaluable and inestimably beautiful work bequeathed by previous generations.
A willingness to recognise continuity and to derive an essence from the best is the crux of creating works that will uplift and adorn the age. We have an important responsibility to contribute to the world's artistic achievements; the resources at our fingertips are tremendous; we can travel almost anywhere to consult wonderful designs and can see countless ideas through photographs and books.
A new style, neither brutal nor twee, would help to restore self-confidence and interest; perhaps 'post-modernism' will provide it. There are, happily, signs in architecture, and elsewhere, of a strong new form, with a definite language of historical learning, coupled with a richer depth of metaphor. Bald functionalism has had its day and, unashamedly, the age-old grammars are at last being used and extended as the basis of exciting new achievements. Surely the very richness of historical needlework ensures that the future of the craft will be continuously buoyant instead of just being practised by a few haberdashery enthusiasts?
