Ok, I will! Due to my ineptitude as a photographer, the above photo does not do justice to my recently commenced chef d'oeuvre in boutis (pronounced "booty", if you couldn't guess by my off-color pun). So, here is another, more masterfully realized photo of someone else's (more masterfully realized) boutis:
And, whence my boutis? Mieko and I signed up for an all-day boutis workshop in the small village of Calvisson, maybe 20 km or so from Nimes. I discovered the town, its Maison de Boutis (translation: boutis house), and its workshops while searching on the internet for the source of the provencal placemats my Mom and I had been eyeing while shopping for souvenirs in Nice. My interest in these simple quilted placemats sent me on a wild google chase through the ins and outs of French regional handicrafts. I discovered that most of what goes by the name of boutis is in fact "pique de Marseille," a simplified version of boutis that more closely resembles what we in America call quilting. Boutis is a much more elaborate and fascinating craft. It's made by sandwiching two pieces of white cotton fabric together, then embroidering a design over top so that small pockets are created in the layers of fabric. These pockets are then filled with cotton yarn by carefully attaching the yarn to a piece of thread and a needle and gently tugging the yarn through the underside of the design. The result is a quilt design with incredibly high relief in the areas filled-in with cotton, and a lovely tranparency in the spaces left empty. Traditionally, boutis was reserved for only the most precious garments or linens, like wedding gowns or baptismal bonnets, whereas the more common "pique de Marseille" was used throughout the home, and is probably why people associate it more with Provence and confuse it with the highfalutin boutis. For me, this workshop was an opportunity to experience more of the local culture, and learn a skill I could bring home with me.
The boutis workshop in Calvisson turned out to be a great experience. Unfortunately, the weather was crappy, so I wasn't inspired to take more photos, but in retrospect it struck me as a textbook French medieval village. On Saturday it was utterly dead, except for the die-hard drinkers, smokers, and gamblers loitering in the town's two cafes, yet, the narrow, winding streets and houses fronted with ancient and cock-eyed looking doorways were indeed charming. The country-side butted right up against the sleepy village so that under certain archways you could spot idle tractors and grazing poultry. At the workshop, we were joined by a handful of mostly middle-aged and older women, most of whom traveled no farther than Nimes to get there (Mieko and I might not have had the nicest boutis, but we won the distance contest hands-down). The other women were curious about us young Americans, but if they were suspicious of our intentions, they never let on. In fact, they seemed eager to learn more about fibre arts in the United States. Most of their vocabulary on this subject appeared to have been imported from the States as they talked about doing "le patch" (patchwork quilting) or things they want to "quilter" (verb: to quilt). They also talked about buying quilting thread from America and Canada over the internet, since evidently selection in France is limited, and not surprisingly, prices are too high. Even the thread we used in our workshop was Coats & Clark, made in the good ol' USofA. (As protectionist as the French are, it strikes me as funny that they are making their traditional handicrafts with imported materials.) We spent the whole day working on our boutis projects, with one break for lunch when we all went to the charming local creperie. At the end of the day we were given free admission to the town's boutis museum where we got a taste for what our newly minted skill could yield. The most impressive pieces were the largest ones, whole gowns or bedspreads covered in boutis. It boggled the mind imagining how long it must have taken to complete these when after 7 hours I had only completed one measly flower less than the size of my palm. The museum also displayed several exquisite examples of pique de Marseille using the traditional provencal cotton prints as well as others in silk.
So, good news: I did learn a new skill. Bad news: Mom, those placemats aren't going to be ready any time soon!
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