Ellen J.Keiter
unravels the narrative threads
of Denise Allen's
rich tapestries
'She's
alive?' a young girl asked me, eyes wide with amazement, as I toured
her class of second-graders through Denise Allen's exhibit. 'Yes,' I
replied. 'She's alive and well, and living in Queens.' This young
visitor's response is one I heard from people of all ages who came to
see 'Family Ties: Needlework by Denise Allen,' which was on exhibit at
the Hudson River Museum in Yonkers, New York, from January 15 to May 9
of last year. Allen's work is so reminiscent of a rural, bygone era
that many people believe it was created more than a century ago (and
certainly not in a borough of Manhattan!). As a contemporary folk
artist, Allen fabricates dolls and needlework tapestries that address
her African-American heritage. The history of slavery in the United
States is a frequent theme, as are folklore figures and
popular-culture icons. Even when treating more recent autobiographical
themes, Allen casts her figures in an antiquated light. They wear
nineteenth-century dresses, cook on wood-burning stoves, do their
washing by hand, and participate in quilting bees. It is women --
strong, brave, nurturing women, the backbone of the American family --
who are the common thread in Allen's work. Her multifaceted works
capture a real sense of home -- interiors cluttered with people, pets,
furniture, food, family photographs, books, and religious objects. She
combines various needlework techniques, such as applique, piecing, and
quilting, with actual wicker baskets and kitchen utensils sewn
directly on to her tapestries. Her materials include scraps of old
clothing, curtains, and blankets, as well as objects she purchases at
flea markets. She uses tea to stain fabrics so that they look old and
worn. Indeed, she loves anything old-fashioned. Using an antique
sewing machine, she makes her own clothing, which she patterns after
late nineteenth-century country attire. She dreams of one day moving
from her small apartment in Queens to a farmhouse in Lancaster County,
Pennsylvania, where she can ride a horse and buggy rather than the
subway. Her rich combinations of colors, textures and patterns -- and
the contrast between the painted two-dimensional and the sewn
three-dimensional elements -- create a visual patchwork in which
viewers can discover multiple stories.
In
I Remember Brooklyn
(1997), Allen pays homage to her childhood in the Bedford-Stuyvesant
section of Brooklyn. The large, central panel of this tapestry depicts
the interior of the four-story brownstone where she lived with her
parents, six sisters, and two brothers. It recalls a day when Allen's
mother taught her and her sisters how to sew a patchwork quilt.
Evidently, the girls didn't pay much attention, since they are shown
sleeping and playing patty-cake instead. Allen's mother worked as a
seamstress, but Allen herself didn't take an interest in the art until
her mother passed away twenty years ago. She found solace for her
grief by teaching herself to sew using an embroidery kit. Trained as a
legal secretary, she was employed at a powerhouse law firm where
future New York City mayor Rudolph Giuliani practiced. Previously, she
worked as a legal secretary for the National Association for the
Advancement of Colored People (NAACP).
I Remember Brooklyn
also contains a vignette of her mother's tenant, Mrs. Aikens, cooking
in her basement apartment (Allen still recalls the wonderful aromas
that permeated through the floor). The Ebenezer Methodist Church,
shown in the lower left, was the center of Allen's childhood social
life. The parishioners -- each an individually created doll -- line
the pocket pews as if singing hymns. The Jenkinses, her future
husband's family, are represented in the upper right (Allen met her
husband Richard when she was just sixteen). The remaining panels
depict the surrounding Brooklyn neighborhood of her childhood, such as
the playground, the local liquor store, and the auto-body repair shop.
With
a whimsical freedom, Allen combines different time periods, mixing
both historical and personal events. 'I have so many stories to tell,'
she says, and she communicates them with her needle and thread. She
never makes preliminary sketches and often doesn't even have a
particular theme in mind when she starts a new tapestry. She says the
works create themselves. For example, the tapestry Escape
from Slavery to an Uneasy Freedom (c.1992)
was begun just as another old-fashioned interior scene. She planned to
dedicate the work to a friend named Lulu, who had died. (Lulu's
portrait still presides over the scene.) As she progressed, however, a
story of the Underground Railroad began to emerge. Allen shows Harriet
Tubman -- the only figure with a defined face -- leading a group of
escaped slaves to a safe house along the Railroad. Because they are in
hiding, these women don't have faces. Tubman (c.1820--1913) was born
into slavery on a Maryland plantation, and she labored as a field hand
and house servant until 1849, when she escaped to freedom in the
North. Before the outbreak of the Civil War in 1861, Tubman bravely
returned to the South nineteen times to lead other slaves, including
her own parents, to freedom. The clandestine route the escaped slaves
traveled became known as the Underground Railroad. As the title of
this work suggests, freedom wasn't an inherent right for blacks, nor,
when granted or won, was it a guarantee of safety or prosperity. 'I
read a lot,' says Allen. 'Slavery affected me mentally. I feel bad
when I think what some of those slaves had to undergo and how
fortunate I am that I wasn't born a slave. I want to give thanks to
those slaves who overcame so much, so that I could be free. Allen's
women not only cook and care for children; they also risk their lives
so that others can be free.
This strong feminine will is brought to life in
another tapestry, Aunt Jemima
(1998). Aunt Jemima, the fictional character for a food-products
company of the same name, is the quintessential 'mammy' -- a
derogatory persona invented by whites to represent the black female
servant. Exploited in art and Hollywood, she is portrayed as an obese
woman with an apron, a red bandana head wrap, and a broad, obsequious
smile. First used in 1889 to advertise pancake mix, Aunt Jemima has
been a familiar face on breakfast-food packages for more than 100
years. Although images of Aunt Jemima are politically controversial in
a highly race-conscious society, Allen believes her work honors Aunt
Jemima rather than perpetuating the stereotype. According to the
artist, her portrait of Aunt Jemima is large because she is full of
love and inner strength in the face of prejudice and oppression. One
of Allen's most ambitious works is Polly
Balch's Quaker Skhoole [sic] for Needlework 1800
(1996), a six-foot-high wooden dollhouse, chock-full of Allen's
figures and handiwork. Constructed by her husband, Richard Allen, it
was inspired by Polly Balch, a woman who taught needlework at her home
in Providence, Rhode Island, during the late eighteenth century.
Although Quakers were zealous opponents of slavery, Balch was neither
a Quaker, nor did she instruct blacks how to sew. As in all of her
works, Allen combines both real and imaginary figures and events in
this piece, seamlessly integrating events in American history with
stories of her own life. Included in the dollhouse are modern
accessories such as a working nightlight, a childhood photograph of
Allen, and an ashtray that has been converted into a spinning wheel.
'She's
alive?' a young girl asked me, eyes wide with amazement, as I toured
her class of second-graders through Denise Allen's exhibit. 'Yes,' I
replied. 'She's alive and well, and living in Queens.' This young
visitor's response is one I heard from people of all ages who came to
see 'Family Ties: Needlework by Denise Allen,' which was on exhibit at
the Hudson River Museum in Yonkers, New York, from January 15 to May 9
of last year. Allen's work is so reminiscent of a rural, bygone era
that many people believe it was created more than a century ago (and
certainly not in a borough of Manhattan!). As a contemporary folk
artist, Allen fabricates dolls and needlework tapestries that address
her African-American heritage. The history of slavery in the United
States is a frequent theme, as are folklore figures and
popular-culture icons. Even when treating more recent autobiographical
themes, Allen casts her figures in an antiquated light. They wear
nineteenth-century dresses, cook on wood-burning stoves, do their
washing by hand, and participate in quilting bees. It is women --
strong, brave, nurturing women, the backbone of the American family --
who are the common thread in Allen's work. Her multifaceted works
capture a real sense of home -- interiors cluttered with people, pets,
furniture, food, family photographs, books, and religious objects. She
combines various needlework techniques, such as applique, piecing, and
quilting, with actual wicker baskets and kitchen utensils sewn
directly on to her tapestries. Her materials include scraps of old
clothing, curtains, and blankets, as well as objects she purchases at
flea markets. She uses tea to stain fabrics so that they look old and
worn. Indeed, she loves anything old-fashioned. Using an antique
sewing machine, she makes her own clothing, which she patterns after
late nineteenth-century country attire. She dreams of one day moving
from her small apartment in Queens to a farmhouse in Lancaster County,
Pennsylvania, where she can ride a horse and buggy rather than the
subway. Her rich combinations of colors, textures and patterns -- and
the contrast between the painted two-dimensional and the sewn
three-dimensional elements -- create a visual patchwork in which
viewers can discover multiple stories.
In
I Remember Brooklyn
(1997), Allen pays homage to her childhood in the Bedford-Stuyvesant
section of Brooklyn. The large, central panel of this tapestry depicts
the interior of the four-story brownstone where she lived with her
parents, six sisters, and two brothers. It recalls a day when Allen's
mother taught her and her sisters how to sew a patchwork quilt.
Evidently, the girls didn't pay much attention, since they are shown
sleeping and playing patty-cake instead. Allen's mother worked as a
seamstress, but Allen herself didn't take an interest in the art until
her mother passed away twenty years ago. She found solace for her
grief by teaching herself to sew using an embroidery kit. Trained as a
legal secretary, she was employed at a powerhouse law firm where
future New York City mayor Rudolph Giuliani practiced. Previously, she
worked as a legal secretary for the National Association for the
Advancement of Colored People (NAACP).
With
a whimsical freedom, Allen combines different time periods, mixing
both historical and personal events. 'I have so many stories to tell,'
she says, and she communicates them with her needle and thread. She
never makes preliminary sketches and often doesn't even have a
particular theme in mind when she starts a new tapestry. She says the
works create themselves. For example, the tapestry Escape
from Slavery to an Uneasy Freedom (c.1992)
was begun just as another old-fashioned interior scene. She planned to
dedicate the work to a friend named Lulu, who had died. (Lulu's
portrait still presides over the scene.) As she progressed, however, a
story of the Underground Railroad began to emerge. Allen shows Harriet
Tubman -- the only figure with a defined face -- leading a group of
escaped slaves to a safe house along the Railroad. Because they are in
hiding, these women don't have faces. Tubman (c.1820--1913) was born
into slavery on a Maryland plantation, and she labored as a field hand
and house servant until 1849, when she escaped to freedom in the
North. Before the outbreak of the Civil War in 1861, Tubman bravely
returned to the South nineteen times to lead other slaves, including
her own parents, to freedom. The clandestine route the escaped slaves
traveled became known as the Underground Railroad. As the title of
this work suggests, freedom wasn't an inherent right for blacks, nor,
when granted or won, was it a guarantee of safety or prosperity. 'I
read a lot,' says Allen. 'Slavery affected me mentally. I feel bad
when I think what some of those slaves had to undergo and how
fortunate I am that I wasn't born a slave. I want to give thanks to
those slaves who overcame so much, so that I could be free. Allen's
women not only cook and care for children; they also risk their lives
so that others can be free.
