Your Custom Text Here
In case you’re wondering where I am coming from and what I have been up to during these dreary, deadly Covid-19 times read my profile in Guernica Magazine, written by the inimitable Roslyn Bernstein!
Read the whole article (and see my pandemic quilts) here.
The coffin quilt measures approximately 5’5’’x17’x4’ and is made from recycled clothes from friends, neighbors and colleagues.
Inspired by the enormous death toll brought on by Covid-19, I began reading and looking at the images of The Egyptian Book of the Dead, a funerary text that started to be used around 50 BCE and was originally written on papyrus. It's a collection of spells to help the deceased navigate the afterlife. The book served as a kind of cheat-sheet that insured a smooth transition to paradise, telling the deceased where to go, how to address certain gods and how to behave in the land of the dead. Historian Margaret Bunson explains that the book "was to instruct the deceased on how to overcome the dangers of the afterlife by enabling them to assume the form of several mythical creatures and to give them the passwords necessary for admittance to certain stages of the underworld.”
Anubis, who guides the deceased through the afterlife
While each book shared certain rules and advice, no two books were alike. Before sitting down to write, the scribe would inquire about the life of the deceased, their strengths and weaknesses, to tailor the text accordingly.
Naturally, what appealed to this animal quilter was that the Book of the Dead is full of animals who play important roles. Anubis, the jackal god, for example, guided the dead to the Hall of Truth. After a series of confessions, Anubis consulted with other gods and the heart of the deceased was weighed against the feather of truth. Only souls whose hearts were lighter than the feather were allowed to enter paradise. If the heart was heavier, it was thrown onto the floor and was devoured by the monster goddess Ammit, who had the head of a crocodile, the forequarters of a lion and the hindquarters of a hippo. (If this is the last thing I see before I go, I promise I won’t complain!)
Anubis, the jackal god is weighing the heart. Ammit, part crocodile, part lion and hippo is waiting to devour the heart, in case it isn’t lighter than a feather.
The Book of the Dead served as a loose inspiration for the coffin quilt; it also features some animals that are not part of the book, such as rabbits. How could I, as a life-long rabbit enthusiast, make a coffin without them? I did include parts of the script of the Papyrus of Ani on it, a version of the Book of the Dead written in roughly 1250 BCE. The center front features hieroglyphs from chapter 30 B, and the coffin’s sides a translated excerpt from the same chapter. This excerpt describes the “weighing of the heart” and offers a spell to be uttered by the deceased to prevent her heart from speaking out against her:
Cat mummy and rabbit next to excerpted hieroglyphs from The Book of the Dead.
“O my heart which I had from my mother! O my heart of different ages! Do not stand up as a witness against me, do not be opposed to me in the tribunal, do not be hostile to me in the presence of...”
Befitting someone who has a pet cemetery in her backyard--over the years, we must have buried at least half a dozen rabbits behind our house, along with a much-loved cat--the back of the quilt features a cat mummy with a scarab appliquéd on its chest. This motif, too, is taken from Egyptian mythology. Scarabs carved from blue stone were sometimes hung around the necks or sewn onto the chests of the deceased. The role of the ghostly scarab was to whisper the correct answer into the ear of the supplicant, who could then answer the gods correctly.
The quilt from the side with an excerpt from chapter 30B of The Book of the Dead. Above it (on top of the quilt), one of two baboons. The baboon was considered a deity of the underworld who devoured the souls of the unrighteous.
While working on this quilt I thought a lot about the hundreds of thousands of lives of Americans that had been lost to Covid-19 and of the thousands more who would die in the months to come. What hurt me the most was the fact that most of them died alone in hospitals and nursing homes with no one to emotionally guide them, no dog or cat to cuddle up to, no loved one to hold them. A sleeping bag, hand-appliqued with the animals I love, I imagined, would provide comfort and warmth and dreams of good (animal) company in the last hours of life. I also thought about how I would be judged for my sins and my privilege that spared me from Covid-19 as I indulged in the luxury of sitting at home quilting, surrounded by my sweet animals and husband.
The coffin quilt fits me like a glove. Filled with wool and embroidered with Finca Presencia perle cotton, the quilt is made from recycled shirts and dresses from friends, neighbors and colleagues to allow for a “green burial.” It’s about 5 feet and 5 inches long, 17 inches wide and 4 inches deep.
Those of you who follow me on Instagram might have seen that I was working on a quilted book featuring the 10 plagues of Egypt. It might come as no surprise that I am telling the story from the perspective of the animals that were affected by the epidemics that struck Egypt during the time of the Exodus.
I decided to take this project one step further by making an actual, printed book depicting each individual panel, the pertaining Bible verses, as well an essay that talks about the science behind the 10 plagues of Egypt and my personal quilting philosophy. Here are just three pages from the book:
I was thinking long and hard to figure out which louse-infested animal to depict. The problem with lice is not only that they make you very, very itchy, but also that they are hard to find when you have a lot of hair because they are small and good at hiding. Alas, it had to be the poor Egyptian hairless cat that became infested with lice so you could see them. Lice infestations are actually quite common, particularly when creatures live in cramped, unhygienic conditions. As such, they are common in refugee camps, but also occur in relatively benign environments, such as elementary schools. This cat is made from an entirely louse-less old T-shirt that just happened to be a pale pink color that resembles the skin of some hairless cats. On the margin of this panel I stitched some hieroglyphs based on the formal writing system used in ancient Egypt. Can you guess their meaning?
All the cattle, sheep, chickens are dead. Scientists have speculated that the death of the livestock was caused by a zoonotic outbreak, such as Rift Valley Fever, the West Nile Virus, Rinderpest or a combination. Zoonotic diseases transmitted between species and passed on to humans have been common ever since humans started to farm animals for their meat. Rinderpest, for example, has caused intermittent outbreaks all over the world, killing an estimated 200 million cattle in eighteenth-century Europe alone. Above the dead animals floats the scarab, the Egyptian death beetle. Based on dung beetles, scarab jewelry was worn by the living as amulets and hung around mummies’ necks or sewn unto their chests. Sometimes, mummified scarabs were placed into the ears of the dead. They were thought to whisper the correct answers to the supplicants, so the questioning gods would send them to heaven, not hell.
That poor goat had the wits to climb the volcano during a fiery eruption and while a hailstorm raged. You’d hope that the Horus, a god that appeared in the form of a falcon and was deemed the protector of the pharaoh, would also protect the goat. The Horus’s right eye stood for the sun or morning star, symbolizing power, and his left eye for the moon or evening star, symbolizing healing. A famous temple in upper Egypt was dedicated to this falcon god. Now, is the Egyptian Horus going to save the goat? Probably not. All is lost. This panel is one of the few instances where I used a leftover scrap from a fabric I paid for. Interestingly, the blue and orange fabric, which I turned into a dress, has an African pattern, was made in China and sold at a store in Panama City. Talk about culture clashes!
If you’d like a signed copy of this limited edition book, please let me know at sabineheinlein@gmail.com The printed book is $10 each, including shipping.
Necessity is the mother of invention, and sometimes even the worst of circumstances brings with it a good opportunity. After I had ankle surgery on March 13 I couldn’t wrestle large pieces of fabric, so I decided to work with smaller panels for the very first time. My ankle surgery coincided with the nationwide shutdown due to Covid-19. From my safe and cozy bed, surrounded by cats and with my foot perpetually elevated, I contemplated how to purposefully use this extraordinary period in my life in which I was immobilized—as was everyone else. When I read that the coronavirus possibly jumped from bats to pangolins and from there onto humans at a so-called “wet market” in Wuhan, the idea for the zoonotic disease quilt was born.
It is estimated that more than two thirds of all infectious diseases are zoonotic in nature (that is, a disease that can be transmitted from animals to people), and scientists have long warned that overpopulation and increasing population density will make zoonotic diseases more and more common—and more and more deadly—in the decades to come.
As humans burn down forest to harvest wood and make space for farming, as they encroach on animal habitats, as sea and humidity levels rise, we are more exposed to animal-borne viruses, bacteria and parasites. Studies have shown, for example, that deforested tropical regions hold more potentially harmful mosquito species than pristine tropical forests.
Sandflies carrying Leishmania have infected Foxhounds in the U.S., a breed that seems particularly susceptible to the disease
To someone living in Europe or the US, zoonotic, mosquito-borne diseases, such as Yellow Fever, Zika, Leishmaniasis or Malaria might seem far away and abstract, but global warming and our ability to hop on a plane and carry deadly contagions with us have made us more and more vulnerable. Leishmaniasis, caused by a protozoan parasite found in dogs and rodents and spread by mosquitos, was once confined to tropical countries, but climate change has increased its prevalence in the U.S. Or take e.coli and the swine flu (H1N1), for example, both diseases that spread easily from person to person. If there is anything we should have learned from the repeated outbreaks it is the undeniable fact that there is a strong link between modern “factory farming” and the rise of dangerous bacteria and hybrid influenza virus strains and that rarely are diseases confined to just one particular area. Not only do pigs, cows and chickens suffer immensely as they are housed in cramped quarters and transported long distances, this inhumane treatment also facilitates the easy spread of diseases.
You would think that humans would recognize this threat and evolve, but no, quite the opposite. In 1998, North Carolina’s pig population hit ten million, up from two million just six years before. At the same time, the number of hog farms was decreasing, from 15,000 in 1986 to 3,600 in 2000. How do five times more animals fit on almost five times fewer farms? By crowding about 25 times more pigs into each operation. Kurt Rossow, a veterinary pathologist from the University of Minnesota stated the obvious in the magazine Science: “With a group of 5,000 animals, if a novel virus shows up, it will have more opportunity to replicate and potentially spread than in a group of 100 pigs on a small farm.”
Causing 60.8 million illnesses, 273,304 hospitalizations and 12,469 deaths in the U.S. alone H1N1’s rage (and range) was devastating. Not as devastating as the current toll of Covid-19, though, which, as of this writing has sickened 740,746 and killed 39,201 in the U.S.
The coronavirus is thought to have jumped from bat to pangolin to human
Another threat that facilitates the easy spread of zoonotic diseases is ignorance of scientific evidence. The endangered pangolin, for example, is one the world’s most illegally trafficked animals because its meat is considered a delicacy and its scales are thought to possess medicinal properties. Recently China has issued a decision “Comprehensively Prohibiting the Illegal Trade of Wild Animals, Eliminating the Bad Habits of Wild Animal Consumption and Protecting the Health and Safety of the People.” But lacking enforcement, people will continue to hunt and torture the shy, peaceful and beautiful pangolin for his fingernail-like scales, which are said to cure arthritis, infertility, cancer, and lactation difficulties. Having driven the pangolin close to extinction in Asia, poachers are now targeting African Pangolins.
Bats, who are known to carry the deadly Ebola virus, are considered a delicacy in large parts of Africa, where deadly epidemics have occurred sporadically. In other parts of the world they are used as medicine.
As long as we don’t curb overpopulation, address climate change and treat animals humanely—as long as Bolivians suck bat blood to stop seizures and the Chinese eat the feces of flying squirrels to stop excessive bleeding—we will pay with the devastating outbreaks of zoonotic diseases.
The plague quilt measures 45x45 inches and is made entirely from recycled fabric to protect the environment. For further plague readings, follow my Instagram at @animalquilter, where I’ve added a little educational narrative to each plague panel.
Just now, while cleaning up my studio, I came across the last issue of Art Quilting Studio. I knew I had forgotten something. Namely, to post my second contribution to this fantastic magazine. As you can see, my rabbit Tiny Tina (a fellow feminist, I believe) was just as impressed by the animal themed issue as I was.
The rooster is made from recycled male shirts, underwear (hot stuff!!!) and ties.
I recently decided to try ceramics. And now I’m addicted! I just can’t stop making clay animals! The first piece of ceramics I made was a sabertooth tiger spoon rest, which, I believe, is an offspring of my previous sabertooth. (The mom looks a bit fiercer than her clay baby, but you can see that the apple didn’t fall far from the tree.)
Sabertooth spoon rest, approximately 13x8x2.5 inches
It’s funny that while I worked on the sabertooth, both the tiger and I had lots of problems with our heads – his kept falling off because I ignored my teacher’s advice to “score and slip,” a pottery technique used to firmly attach two pieces of clay to each other. My head almost fell off, too, because of a string of unpleasant events. The last couple of months I felt like the only thing that kept my head in place were my frequent trips to the ceramics studio. Fixing the tiger’s head, among other things, had an existential impact on my mental health.
Crocodile trivet, approximately 12x8x0.5 inches
While I was waiting for the new tiger head to dry, be repainted and fired, I took on another project. I had grown tired of the cheap, factory-produced trivets (those small panels you place under a hot serving dish) on our dining room table and was looking for an animal shape that could accommodate two pots. Thus the crocodile trivet was born. This one, I decided, would be made from one piece. I wasn’t sure if I could handle any more rolling heads. (It bears mentioning that the trivet, too, has relatives among my quilts.)
Armadillo cheese plate, approximately 15x9x2.5 inches
The most recent piece I finished was an inverted armadillo (with its bands across its belly, not its back). The armadillo, I figured, would serve as a cheese plate or a fruit “bowl.” You guys! Is there anything crazier and more adorable than armadillos? In my humble opinion, armadillos put human babies to shame. Talking about babies, though, I had made an armadillo baby quilt for a friend and later an armadillo pillow commissioned by a nice Texan lady. When I started ceramics I thought it’d be fun to add a related, functional object to my armadillo oeuvre.
Pillow commissioned by a nice Texan lady
I was surprised to find the process of coiling, pinching, slipping, bisquing and glazing as meditative and soothing as the cutting, ironing and stitching of fabric. Also, I still don’t feel like making objects that can’t be used to keep us warm or fat or both (priorities!). I always set out to make a piece that serves as a practical household item. Once it’s done, that’s a different story. The sabertooth quilt started out as a headboard but has become a wall hanging in someone’s fancy home. While it does hang above a bed, no heads will ever touch it. And it won’t go in the washer in the foreseeable future, or so I am told. Its clay baby was designed as a spoon rest to fit on my stove where spoons habitually fall through the cast iron grid. But now it’s taken on a life of its own. (They grow up so fast!) For now, no pot will bang it and no dirty spoon will soil it.
Someone else’s fancy home
Now on to the koala tortilla warmer and the Dutch rabbit jar. More to follow soon.
Email me for prices: sabineheinlein@gmail.com
I’m so exited about my latest, most ambitious quilting project yet that I just can’t keep it to myself anymore. After visiting the Amazon in Ecuador last November I just had to make a jungle quilt. I rushed to Goodwill upon my return and picked up a bag of ill-fitting dresses and shirts that I hoped would do justice to the marvelous animals I saw.
Back in the jungle, I had been a bit concerned on our ride to the lodge, when our boat was battered by the most violent rainfall I have ever seen. The gigantic heavy clouds in the distance seemed ominous, but never could I have predicted their power. I hid under a heavy-duty cape that was provided and fretted that, if the rain continued like this, I wouldn’t get to see any animals.
Noisy Night Monkeys
As is often the case, I worried for no good reason. The rain soon stopped—and later started and stopped again. Once we had reached our destination, we went on long walks through the jungle. The humidity made it feel as if we’re walking through hot syrup. Hot syrup saturated with stringy, sticky stuff… spider webs. Everywhere. In your hair, your mouth, your eyes…
Frogs are also abundant, but so well camouflaged that they are virtually invisible. Our guide picked up one frog the size of my small fingernail. I would have never seen it were it not for our guide’s sharp eyes.
The Most Beautiful Monkey AKA Napo Saki Monkey
Also: We saw. So. Many. Monkeys. We had Red Howler Monkeys throw poop at us, watched spider monkeys play with their young, and were roused by Noisy Night Monkeys (they are called Noisy Night Monkeys for good reason). During one of our hikes our guide suddenly exclaimed: “OVER THERE!” He pointed at the dense canopy. While he was incredibly adept at spotting and identifying all kinds of animals, the sight of a family of Napo Saki monkeys (named after the Amazon tributary whose shores they call home), had left him speechless. “What kind of monkey is it?” I asked, my heart jumping in my chest. “It’s, it’s…,” the guide stuttered in awe, “it’s the most beautiful monkey!” I peered at the group of big, red fellows through binoculars. He wasn’t exaggerating.
A jaguar. Duh!
We didn’t see jaguars, sadly. (Or thankfully, maybe.) Habitat loss due to the expansion of oil refineries and poaching have left the jungle jaguar in peril. But we were told that Columbian drug cartels avoid certain areas nearby because of their presence. At some point I thought I heard a jaguar roar but it turned out it was just another monkey: the Howler Monkey’s bloodcurdling roar made the conquistadores believe that the forest was haunted. I think the jungle is haunted, actually. But in a good way.
There once was a young couple named Carrie and Rich. They fell deeply in love and soon bought a brownstone in Bushwick, Brooklyn. Their house was beautiful and full of potential, but trouble brewed in the hourly hotel next door. It was a dark place sporting the slogan “What happens in Brooklyn stays in Brooklyn.” Its backyard was teeming with black-and-white cats. If you looked closely at the hotel’s windows you could see lingerie draped over a lampshade. I could swear the lampshade was made from cat hide! Day and night Rich and Carrie could hear the blaring sirens of the police, alarming even the rats.
Carrie and Rich began renovating their new house, stuffing holes to keep the rats out, replacing windows and floors and planting flowers. Soon their new home sparkled with homeowner’s pride. Sadly, it became clear that the cathouse next door had a kitten factory in its backyard, producing a never-ending slew of sadly homeless black-and-white kittens. A few months after their arrival, the couple found a litter of tiny little babies on their side of the fence. Looking at their markings they could easily trace the kittens back to a couple of strays they subsequently named Papa Cat and Mama Cat. The two often hung out by their windows looking in longingly. Mama Cat was desperately in love with Papa Cat. She always tried to hug up to him, but he would push her away acting all aloof and stuff. All he wanted was an hour in the hotel next door at the most.
Once the kittens were weaned, Carrie and Rich took them in. Some were weak and needed medical attention that cost the couple thousands of dollars. All of them needed lots of love, obviously. Carrie’s cat Hank had recently died, and though Carrie’s heart was still a bit broken, she secretly knew that the litter of kittens was heaven sent. But whenever she asked herself to choose between the kittens, she simply couldn’t make a decision. They were all so cute! Right off the bat Carrie bonded with Lil Mama, who followed her around with a perpetually surprised look on her face. But Rich fell in love with the kitten that had a black heart on her white body. They named her Hartley. Although the smallest of them all, Hartley was also “the sweetest and toughest.”
Carrie and Rich could not tear apart the litter of kittens. How could they part from Cuatro, who was such a great sidekick to his siblings? Cuatro had the perfect side-eye; when they’d call his name he’d manage to look at them without even turning his head! Humphrey was the largest yet the most nervous one of the litter. He loved salmon and would always cuddle up to Carrie, his face pressed tightly against hers. Cuatro loved stealing and eating plants, and Humphrey loved salmon.
Carrie and Rich got licensed in Trap, Neuter, Return (TNR) to be able have the other members of the cathouse colony, including Mama Cat and Pappa Cat, neutered and spayed for free at the ASPCA.
And so it was that both Bushwick cathouses lived next to each other happily ever after.
Humphrey found himself on the quilt! Photo by Carrie Villines
And Cuatro did, too! Photo by Carrie Villines
This cat quilt was a commission. It measures 45 inches by 65 inches and, like much of my work, is made from recycled men’s shirts from Goodwill.
As we’re inundated with the devastating news that the sixth mass extinction has already cost billions of animals their lives, cockroaches provide a glimmer of hope. It’s true! With death all around, roaches live up to their reputation as indestructible. A roach can hold its breath for 40 minutes, allowing it to stay alive under water basically forever. It can run up to three miles an hour as a one-day-old (!), withstand freezing temperatures and—drumroll, please—LIVE WITHOUT ITS HEAD FOR A WEEK!!! It can probably do all this while shit-faced (roaches have an affinity for beer) and high on some new chemical that it has already mastered resistance over.
Photo: Carrie Villines
My roach quilt turns our desire for hygiene in the bedroom upside down. Made from recycled men’s shirts, the quilt features 22 cockroaches and 26 bedbugs, another nearly indestructible species. It’s not for the faint-hearted. I woke up more than once at night, jerking back in alarm at the sight of the quilt in progress next to my bed.
Photo: Carrie Villines
This queen-size quilt is 76 x 82 inches. It is made from pure cotton (with the exception of the houndstooth roaches). It is lightweight and made for the summer months because it doesn’t contain batting.
Contact me for prices.
I’m honored to have my work (and some of my writing) included in the current print issue of Art Quilting Studio. The chameleon baby quilt (or wall-hanging) , which is still looking for a home by the way, is one my favorite pieces of 2018. Read about it just below the photo.
