Sewn with love - and sweat

These quilts also connect museumgoers to the legacy of slavery in a visceral way. Looking at quilts made from worn denim work clothes - for example Lutisha Pettway's "Bars" quilt from 1950, made from ingeniously placed pant legs with darker spots where the jean pockets had been - one sees evidence of the toll that such intensive labor took on human beings.

It's hard at times to appreciate the women's artistry without being overwhelmed by emotional baggage. How does one see these quilts without feeling the weight of history? How does one handle the temptation to look down on other people who see merely pretty quilts, and not remnants of social injustice? Still, the overwhelming emotion is exhilaration from having discovered a previously unknown cache of authentic American art.

The women of Gee's Bend have remained remarkably grounded despite the high-flying adjectives applied to their quilts.

"These are women who have never had anything," says Mary McCarthy, who worked with the Freedom Quilting Bee, a collective set up in the 1960s, and whose family were among the few whites living in Gee's Bend from '67 to '85. "They're spiritual women who don't get [upset by] a lot of petty stuff, or it's so petty that they all laugh about it," says Ms. McCarthy. The women are so joyous about having opportunities to travel, meet people, and share their lives, that jealousy is far from their thoughts, she says.

In the same way that the women's voices weave over and through each other in song, the quilting appears to be a unifying force in their community. But it's far from being a static force. The changes wrought in Gee's Bend are subtle but palpable.

From the money the women were paid by Arnett and the Tinwood Alliance, an organization he founded to promote African-American and so-called "outsider art," the women have been able to add onto their modest houses, give a bit more to church, and help support families. This newfound autonomy has brought changes on the domestic front: Some of the men aren't so keen about all the attention the women are getting, says Arnett.

The women's approaches to quilting have also shifted, with some continuing to quilt what they like, when they like, and others looking to connect with buyers. As Gee's Bend has become known, "people send them cloth from all over the world," says Arnett, so they are working with nicer fabric than the worn denim and dress material of the past. The community's improved circumstances can't help being reflected in the quilt designs. As Arnett says of the women, "They aren't anthropological specimens." Some critics might argue that the newer quilts lack the poignancy of the older ones, but no one begrudges these women the better living conditions that quilting has helped bring about.

The Gee's Bend women take nothing for granted, and they see their talents as gifts from the Almighty. About their designs, they speak mainly in terms similar to Arlonzia Pettway when she says, "I lay down at night and think about it [a quilt she's working on]. I get up next morning and I think 'I need green or red.' " She doesn't analyze color combinations so much as intuit them.

Arnett tells people not to be fooled by such modesty. The women choose and reject colors the same way an artist does, he says, "no matter what they tell you."

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