BLOGGermanquiltingfigures and schwibbogens

            Schwibbogens, Quilting Scenes, and Christmas Traditions

            Schwibbogen is not a word that easily comes to mind when I think of Christmas yet, in the mining towns of Germany, schwibbogens are a major decorative feature as well as a valuable economic product.

            What, you say, is a schwibbogen?  I confess to stumbling over the term as well as the concept.  Apparently it translates from the German as a floating arch, a standard example of Gothic structure.  Simply, it is an arch suspended between two walls which act as the support for the arch.  Living in Pennsylvania, I am familiar with the importance of the keystone within the arch.

In the mineral-rich mountains of Saxony, the miners celebrated the beginning of the Christmas festivities (and probably the winter solstice with its return of sunlight) as they hung their lanterns on the iron arch at the mouth of the ore mines.  As each miner emerged from the mine on Christmas Eve, his lantern signaled the village that everyone was safely out of the mine.  When the arch was completely lit up, Christmas could truly begin and eventually village homes put smaller replicas in their windows.  When the mines petered out, carving and crafting schwibbogen and other wooden ornaments energized the business in that region.

The number of candles on many of the schwibbogen are mostly prime numbers. The first schwibbogen made in 1726 had eleven lantern holders formed from forged iron. For example, the older image of the menorah is a seven-branched candlestick with the central candle representing God of Light while a more modern menorah has eight candles with a servant candle providing the ninth. This fact reminds me again of the importance of the keystone as the center or cementing stone in the arch or the “extra” or “superior” light that is necessary for all light to happen. Now the arches may have any number of candles.  Many often include a scene such as a Nativity or German landscape sheltering under the curve of the arch.

In addition, the villagers construct music boxes with nativity sets, fantastic forests and landscapes, and even a summer scene of children flying a kite.  What caught my quilt-hunting eye was a domestic quilting scene ensconced on top of a music box.  It was not truly a schwibbogen but it fell into the same category of Christmas comfort all year long. A mother figure supports a large quilting frame on her lap with a straw basket of brightly colored wool within easy reach.  One tiny girl on tiptoes, white-capped and pinafored, peers over the edge of the frame, as if she is being instructed in the art of quilting. Sitting before a pile of logs representing the family hearth, another girl plays with a doll even smaller than she is.  A lantern hangs from an upright wooden arm.  The entire tableau sits on an oblong raised platform box decorated with the red, white, and blue of Germany folk art incorporated into quilt squares of hearts and blue bows along the sides.  The tune of “It’s a Small World After All” plays as the quilter spins on her circle.

What does this say about quilting?  Granted that the décor and costume are lodged several centuries back, the scene still evokes nostalgia of a quieter time within what we believe to be quieter “golden days of yore.”  Each element, rendered in the rotund and merry figures, represents our ideal of innocence--family, hearth, warmth, light, and most of all a work-at-home mother. Whereas the mother-figure often is shown in other visual art as feeding her family, here the emphasis is on her ability to clothe her family.  Thus the light and the fire and the quilt spilling over her legs provide visible proof of her ability to keep her family warm.  We, in turn, are “warmed” by the reassurance that the “small world” of the scene still exists—if only in our memory.

            Like a rainbow arching across the sky, the tiny schwibbogens remind us of the colors and lights of a Nativity scene, the safety of escaping the darkness of a cold and wet underground mine, and the warmth of a family hearth welcoming us home at Christmas.  Not bad for an ornament.

                                                                                    Anne K. Kaler aka QuiltHunter