JETHRO GILLESPIE

A note about the quilts:

In 2015, I began to stitch rows of tally marks on white muslin in an embroidery hoop. One square foot would take me about 15 hours and usually have over 2,000 stitches on it. This strangely became somewhat of a self-imposed addiction, and ultimately (after 11 months) turned into a six foot square quilt. I would stitch pretty much wherever I was. This would often lead to interesting discussions with people encountering me (usually my high school students). These conversations could go in many directions, and I found it was a great way to skip the small talk and instead delve into their own connections to subjects such as accumulation, discipleship, meditation, scriptures, religion, therapy, eternity, infinity, confinement, prison, endurance, and art. I value these interactions that arose through the process of making this quilt just as much as the final product itself.

In 2017, perhaps because of my ‘stitching’ addiction, I felt like I should make a companion quilt of the same size, and it made sense that it be black on black. During this time, my father’s leukemia turned acute while I was working on the black quilt. He was hospitalized for over two months, where I spent a lot of time stitching next to him. The black quilt somehow felt like a verdict, or an exhaustive resolution of the many ideas and conversations that emerged from my experiences of making both of these quilts.

I consider these works as informal social performances. The repetitive action of stitching tally marks (often in public) accounts for a sustained amount of time and focused energy in a quiet and methodical process. These performances accumulated in a collection of registered attention and will, which ultimately formed these objects meant to offer comfort.

Official statement about my white tally mark quilt for the LDS church:

My latest works have been kind of like landmarks in my life’s path, that show me where I’ve been going and offer me a kind of awareness about myself and the world.

When I began making this quilt, I was thinking about the Mormon conception of the Abrahamic Covenant and the related idea of “numberless blessings” like the stars in the sky or the sands of the sea. Like a lot of people, I’m attracted to the idea of infinity, or more specifically, trying to actually count to infinity. 

This quilt took me 11 months to make. While I was working on it, I had just finished with the coursework for my PhD and was now focusing on my research and dissertation. My family had moved back to Utah (after a year in Montreal). I was teaching high school visual arts classes full time as well. I came up with the idea to do one square foot of fabric at a time, stitching rows of white tally marks on white muslin in an embroidery hoop. I was pretty busy with all of my obligations as a father, teacher, husband, and grad student, so I got the idea to make my work as part of my identity as a teacher, and I would stitch while I taught, walking around my classroom, talking with students, even while giving lectures sometimes.

I would stitch pretty much wherever I was. This would often lead to interesting discussions with people encountering me (usually my high school students). These conversations could go in many directions, and I found it was a nice way to skip the small talk and instead delve into their own connections to subjects such as accumulation, discipleship, meditation, scriptures, religion, therapy, quilting, comfort, eternity, infinity, confinement, prison, endurance, and art. I value these interactions that arose through the process of making this quilt just as much as the final product itself.

One of the things many people might not know about this quilt is that I actually started making it in November, 2015, the same time as the news of the LDS church’s updated policy about LGBTQ members regarding the baptism of their children, which was difficult for me to understand and accept, as I know it was for many other members of the church. 

One of the other events happening in my life during these 11 months while I was making the quilt was that my younger brother was slowly and carefully coming out as a 30 year old gay man while living in Provo Utah, amidst a church and culture in which he had grown, knew, and loved so much. As one might imagine, his decision to step back from the church, to be true to himself, despite the context within which he was living was extremely difficult for him, as well as for me personally. I know many other families continue to wrestle with this issue as well. 

I see this quilt as a result of processing some of the cognitive dissonance I was experiencing in relation to my brother’s situation. I was trying to turn my energy and focus to offer him some comfort, in my own way. Because at the time he wasn’t really coming out to everyone, I didn’t really talk about this aspect of the work for the sake of his privacy. But now (2020, 5 years later), he is married to his husband and feeling much better about his life and living more comfortably in his own skin. 

As I engaged with the meditative and repetitive process of creating this quilt, I think it has also helped me become more comfortable in my own skin. I believe there is a healing quality that emerges from sustained attention and focusing my energy through my hands in a way that provides heightened personal clarity and awareness.