A Digression on Cataloging

20120817-083421.jpg Sew 18th Century had a great comment about the striped linings on the quilted petticoats: are they linen? The catalog record doesn’t say. I think they are, and I remember feeling linen on the insides of the petticoats, but I lay awake wondering: what if those linings are linsey-woolsey? I know women are running away in “lincey” petticoats in 18th century Rhode Island, what if…what about that blue silk? Is that superfine wool in the lining?

To relieve my mind, I did some searches at the Met and the MFA and discovered a familiar inconsistency: quilted petticoats described as being made of silk. Silk and cotton. Silk, cotton, linen. Sometimes the lining was called out, sometimes not. The MFA Boston has some of the best catalog records: major thanks to the creator of the record calling out the ribs in the cotton and linen petticoat with polychrome crewel work.

What does all this mean? It means, when you are lucky enough to be able to ask the collections person for more detail, do! Because the records up in museum online catalogs are in process. Sometimes that process is drawn out over a series of years. The catalog record created for the calamanco petticoat in the RIHS collection was made in 2006 by a young woman working on a grant. her major interest was fine art, but she needed a job, was smart and conscientious, so I talked her into doing the textiles inventory. Along the way, the Registrar and I tried to help her, but the museum was draped in workmen, the Library in open revolt, the basement flooding, and I think that was the summer there were two serious accidents in the Registrar’s family–unless it was the summer she had mono. Not ideal conditions.

We were also cataloging in a home-made, twice-modified Access2003 database, so data entry was entirely manual. That requires even more will power on the part of the cataloger–you’re typing it twice. In the database we use now, the description can contain such lovely phrases as “calamanco exterior with wool batting and plain weave linen lining, pieced from two striped fabric lengths.” You can get poetic in the description. Then in materials you can select straightforward “fibre, wool,” and “fibre, linen” but you’re not typing it again. This makes me want to spend more time on the description, because I know that someone will get the basics in the material field.

So those petticoat records are early, based in some cases on information I know is not quite right, and they need to be edited. What I find so useful is knowing people are interested! That means that I can justify taking the time to go over a block of records, improve them, and upload them again. It won’t be as soon as I like, but I can think of this as a winter project that will give me great pleasure and make up for whatever super dull administrative tasks I have, and benefit a wider population.

As for the Curatorial Assistant, she’s teaching English and Art History at the high school level now, and it’s just me, the Registrar and the Assistant Registrar/Photographer, all of us only two days a week in the museum; the balance of time is at our library. We are responsible for all of the displays in the museum, all new exhibitions at the museum, temporary exhibits in our satellite museum, environmental monitoring, new gifts, old gift untangling, research and reference requests, disaster planning and response, loans, oversight of construction projects, actual hands-on gallery renovations, exhibit object preparation, mount making, and installation, database administration, collections digitization…some just for the 30,000 museum objects, some of that for all of the collections.

That’s an extreme case, but most museums have similarly pressed staffs and that’s reflected in the level of detail in the catalog records. When we’re finished with the NEH Sampler Archive Project, we’ll have the best sampler records ever–because the grant pays for us to spend the time counting threads in the backgrounds, and for new photography of all the samplers. It takes that level of commitment to get very high quality records with images for all objects.

Most of the time, I don’t get into this kind of discussion, because I don’t want to sound defensive or whinging. But the hard truth is that money talks, and we focus cataloging where there is money to support the cataloger, or the rehousing of cataloged objects, or the digitization of the objects. Priorities have to be set, and for now, they’re set by funding. As the man says in The Right Stuff, “No bucks, no Buck Rogers.”

Still, that doesn’t mean I won’t find a way to indulge my love of quilted petticoats come December, pull them from the drawers, and revise the records.

Feeling Shifty

It’s clean now, but in the photo you can see some of the abuse a shift takes in a day or two of real wearing. This shift was made from the Kannik’s Korner pattern. The first shift I made is now on a mannequin at work; I used Mara Riley’s Instructions, and they worked, mostly, with some operator error. I’m tall, and that means that proportions for my clothes sometimes have to be adjusted. The third shift I made was a late-18th century version, adjusted for the change in style and my height, and it is by far the best one yet.

So now I know I need to make another mid-18th century shift, what will I do? The first place I’ll start is with Sharon Burnston’s awesome article, The Cognitive Shift. This is one of the best pieces I’ve read on costume history and the logical, methodical approach is one that not only explains her process, clarifying objects and construction, but also sets a standard for how other garments could be considered.

Among the points Sharon has made over time is the lack of decent linen available for making shifts and shirts. What we can get today is too heavy, too coarse–it lacks the hand of the linen items made in the period we’re reenacting, and not just because the objects have been washed. The fabric is simply different, and unavailable. What  I think I’ll try (having exhausted whatever shift linen I bought from a sutler) is this light weight linen, not softened. I have some that was used for a cap, and so far seems to be working out. Once it is washed, it seems to have a decent drape and appearance.

My impression is not of a fine lady, and that is at least a saving grace. I don’t want to go all the way down the social ladder to wearing an oznabrig shift, but I do want to be as accurate as I can be–and as comfortable.

Sleeves of Wonder

They’ll be evil sleeves as soon as I try making them, but check this out: Mrs. Cephas Smith, Jr. (Mary Grove) and child, about 1803, seen at the MFA today. (Online catalog photo at left)

The dress reminds me a lot of the brown silk Quaker dress at the MFA (early 19th century).

What doesn’t fully register until you can get close to the painting is the sleeve detail.

Drawstring waist, check. Probably front-closing and not a wrap dress. Probably earlier than the Quaker dress, but of similar materials. I can feel the taughtness of that shoulder and think a similar detail of the front is shown in a drawing in Arnold or Bradford. The neck is a little higher than I’d expect, but this is not a high-style gown like the ones shown in Arnold. It’s a dress worn in Rutland, VT.

But those sleeves–I’d venture to guess at embroidery in silk thread and buttons, based on the repeated motif at the neck.

Buttons? They look like they sit above the fabric, float, in a way that embroidery would not. But I think of buttons (aside from some stomachers and buttons for polonaise loops) as decorative elements on women’s clothes coming at least a decade, maybe two, later than this painting. Time to sit down with 19th Century Costume in Detail again.

Runaway Styles

Many thanks to Becky Fifield (The Still Room Blog) for revisiting the article she published last year on her amazing Runaway Clothing Database (RCD). It is available now as a downloadable PDF from the publisher’s website. I devoured it for its systematic look at classifying–cataloguing, really–not just the runaways themselves, but their articles of clothing.

What Becky did with nearly 900 ads was to create catalog records for each woman who ran away, as well as her clothing. It’s a phenomenal project, and one that works well now, in an age of computer databases and improved cataloguing nomenclature. It is also a testament to dedication and love: the amount of time to construct the database and enter all the records is significant. That’s hours, tens of hours, of work before the fun part of analyzing the data can begin.

Kudos to Becky, for hard work and inspiration!