Drawing on her Jamaican heritage and connecting with a global sisterhood, Simone Elizabeth Saunders creates imposing large-scale narratives using only a punch needle and a tufting machine.

Passionate about fine art but disappointed by the lack of Black representation in the history of art, she draws on images and symbols reminiscent of those found in the Renaissance and Art Nouveau, and interprets them through the lens of Black feminism. 

Simone’s work is rich in colour and pattern. Flora and fauna play essential supporting roles, leading the eye around the composition as well as contributing to the narrative through symbolism. Colour, too, is key in conveying mood and emotions. Using her previous theatrical experience she draws you into the story, revealing layers of meaning – just as a drama unfolds over several acts in a play.

In her mid-30s, after a successful career in the theatre, Simone decided to take a gamble and return to university to pursue a career in the visual arts. Intrigued by the tufting gun and its potential for drawing with colour, she took to this popular crafting tool, teaching herself how to paint with thread. Hand tufting with a punch needle or tufting machine is now her medium of choice.

Simone’s work involves plenty of research, planning and referencing historical works of art. However, once the tufting gun is in her hand, she will often improvise and play with colour and pattern, responding to the piece as it unfolds. Using a rich mix of yarn, velvet and metallic threads she creates a visual landscape rich with symbolism, flowers, animals and insects in her portraits, which honour her heritage, ancestorship and the uplifting of Black women.

Challenging history

Simone Elizabeth Saunders: I showcase narratives of Black womanhood illustrating our joy, strength, resilience and vulnerability. Art history, and the Renaissance and Art Nouveau periods in particular, have deeply inspired my work. 

When studying at art school, I was completely enamoured by works from these periods. I loved the way femininity was captured ­– such whimsy, romance and grandeur of storytelling. However, there is a major omission from the history books: a proper representation of BIPOC (Black, Indigenous, People of Colour) people. Art history is dominated by a white perspective.

I take my love of the concepts from these eras, together with the themes and stories, and replace them, creating my own narrative and style. By drawing, sketching and collaging new characters and worlds, a gaze or a gesture from an image online can inspire the story.

Unearthing unicorns

My previous career in the theatre taught me many skills and I bring that dramatism into my textiles. I use storytelling and character development to enrich each artwork. For example, I became inspired by the Hunt of the Unicorn tapestries (c.1495–1505) and I went to see them at the Met Cloisters Museum in New York. I was amazed by the overall grandeur, as well as the detail within the storytelling, and at the same time saddened by the persecution of the beloved unicorn.

I researched the fable and flipped it on its head – creating my unicorn to represent all that we hold dear: our morality and love. I developed my heroine, Verchü (a phonetic spelling of Virtue), to appear before the pomegranate tree within the hortus conclucus (an enclosed sacred garden) where, in the original fable, the unicorn has been tied and kept for centuries. This is where my tale begins –  a series of four textiles, depicting Verchü and the unicorn’s escape to freedom. 

Once I have developed the beginnings of a new work, I draw it on my 178cm (70″) square frame, and start tufting.

Storytelling through symbolism

Symbolism is embedded within my textiles. I use it to drive narrative and ideas of Afrofuturism in my creations.

As well as art history, I might be inspired by a story or a Shakespearean character, or I might draw from contemporary events. These details are all treasures embedded within the work. They invite the viewer’s eye to dance around the work, engaging with each nuance. It’s important to me that each of my textiles depicts a narrative, like a play, rooted in time and character, and devoted to elevating Black women.

Most of my works stand alone, although they may be a part of a smaller series, but they all stand together as one collective. The works lean into the diaspora of the Black community – the call to a sisterhood. Each of my works takes me on a journey of ancestorship and honouring my heritage, to uplifting womanhood and showing our strengths, joys and resilience.

A symphony of colour

I am a lover of colour! Colour is key, igniting emotion and a way in which to balance and enhance each textile. But there is a vibration to be aware of: before starting a new work, I decide which colours will dominate and take the lead. I have a large collection, which I build and replenish as needed.

I choose my colour combinations carefully in order to balance contrast and vibrancy. I want them to support and intensify, rather than mute one another out.

While creating, I engage with as many colours as possible. A single colour is associated with a mood and enhances emotion. When colours are brought together within the canvas – nestled together – they create a melody. As I hand punch the colours, I witness their individual vibrations settling together – it’s truly a magical thing to orchestrate.

The allure of threads

I am drawn to textiles because the tactility of the threads is so inviting. The different textures of the yarn are incredible: metallic, acrylic, wool and velvet. They accentuate the piece in a way that using another medium doesn’t allow.

Textiles have this beautiful parallel to life. Individual yarns are threaded and woven together to create one piece – in the same way that our lives weave together.

I also admire the slow and patient process of the punch needle and the dedication that is required to create each work. It truly is a labour of love, and I find the texture rich and the legacy of these works most rewarding.

I recommend starting with the punch needle before moving on to the tufting machine. The tufting machine will require a larger frame, whereas for the punch needle you can start on a smaller frame. And it’s good to play! Draw your design on the cloth with a marker and use it as your guide. It’s a resilient technique – if you make a mistake, it’s relatively easy to remove the yarn and start again.

Drama in textiles

I love the theatre. I particularly love acting and the ability to immerse myself into another life and world of a new character is riveting. However, as a career, I found myself at the whim of others.

Everything – the theatres, the timing of shows and what was available each season, the directors – was outside of my control. This was combined with the reality of casting and auditioning. So, although I was running my own theatre company, I wanted greater autonomy – to be a creative person in control of my own destiny and be vibrant with my whole being. Visual arts showed me how I could get that independence, and weave together my skill set and love of the theatre.  

I embrace every moment of my life and the journey that’s brought me to where I am today. Every experience has shaped me. From where I grew up in the prairies in Canada, to learning the piano, to my dance training, to my theatre experience, to working in the restaurant industry, to travelling the world and living in Toronto. It is all a part of me. And I feel a calling to honour my heritage. I acknowledge my ancestors, a deeper history that I cherish and I draw from.

Key takeaways

Colour and pattern play a key role in Simone’s storytelling. Like the conductor of an orchestra, she chooses colours to evoke a particular mood and emotion. Why not experiment with using  colour more intentionally to create your own melody.

• Notice how different colours evoke a particular emotion and use this to enhance a particular mood in your work.

• Decide which colour you want to dominate a particular piece of work.

• Experiment and see what other colours enhance your lead colour. What colours make it sing? Play with varying proportions and intensity of the different colours and their combinations and notice how that affects them. Don’t forget the ‘dull’ colours that are essential to show off the ‘stars’ to their best advantage.

Simone Elizabeth Saunders is an international artist working in Mohkinstsis, Calgary, Canada. She has a Bachelor of Fine Arts with Distinction from the Alberta University of Arts (2020). Recent exhibitions include Unearthing Unicorns at Claire Oliver Gallery in Harlem, New York (2023), and UNITY at the Textile Museum of Canada in Toronto (2022) and at Contemporary Calgary, Canada (2021). Her work features in the collections of The Mint Museum, North Carolina, and at Minneapolis Institute of Art.

Artist website: simoneelizabethsaunders.com

Instagram: @simoneelizabethsaunders

One of the key themes in Simone Elizabeth Saunders’s work is the Black African diaspora. Textile artist Sabine Kaner has made work about the UK ‘Windrush Generation’, a term used to describe individuals and families arriving in the UK from the Caribbean between 1948 and 1971. Find out more about Sabine’s work and how her textile practice helps her to sift through her experiences in Sabine Kaner: Stitching life experiences.

Storytelling is central to Simone Elizabeth Saunders’s work. She pays attention to the landscapes in which she sets her figures, using colour, pattern and symbols to reinforce the narrative and lead the eye. Why not try introducing your own storytelling motifs and symbols into your work. Share what you discover in the comments below.

Heehwa Jo freely admits she fell in and out of love with many different art and craft techniques before she saw the light, realising she could combine a life-long love of her Korean heritage and its traditions, with her passion for embroidery.

Now she can’t imagine doing anything else and has a lifetime of ideas waiting in the wings to express through stitch. She is passionate about exploring the potential of thread – experimenting with direction to manipulate light and colour, and create texture.

Heehwa has embraced her country’s rich tradition of embroidery and made a point of studying it in detail. She shares how she has learnt to see beyond the surface and notice the design principles and invisible ‘rules’ that were followed – and sometimes broken – by ancient embroiderers, whether stitching for family or the royal court. 

Heehwa keeps these traditions alive and shares how she uses these techniques – and channels the spirit in which they were made – recreating historic artefacts that are an integral part of Korea’s cultural heritage.

Heehwa’s nickname, JOHH, which she uses on social media, is derived from the Korean format of her name, which shows the surname first and the given name last, Jo Heehwa.

Heehwa Jo: My work is based on traditional Korean stitch techniques and subjects. I’m interested in generating ideas within traditional principles and adding my own creative take on it. I’ve got two ways of working with my embroidery. One is doing embroidery based on historic pieces. I do this for my own self-development, as well as preserving the traditional skills. The other is creating embroidery with my own stamp on it in pursuit of the trinity of craft: aesthetic, utility and meaning. 

I am particularly fond of the texture made by stitches and I try to make an impact purely by using threads. Whenever I’m talking about or teaching Korean embroidery, I always emphasise that embroidery is the art of stitches and its language is threads. Traditional Korean embroidery uses mainly sheen silk twisted thread, which creates texture and reflects light and colour.

The direction of the stitch creates very different textural effects. If you fill in an identical shape using the same stitch and thread, it will look different depending on the direction of the stitch because of the way the light reflects on it. The more lustrous the thread, the more distinctive the difference.

Creating impact with thread

It’s really important to know the characteristics of thread in relation to the levels of twist and stitch directions. Then you can plan a design and process according to your intention. That is what really intrigues me, regardless of the tradition.

My goal is the ultimate expression of threads – something that I’m working towards mastering through practice and experimentation. That’s why I cherish and value thread – just as a sculptor makes the most of marble, and a cook their ingredients. Of course, I care about colours and design composition as well, but they are not unique to embroidery. 

I love using traditional Korean embroidery stitches, and I’m keen on showing their distinctive features. Although many Korean stitch techniques are the same, or similar to, stitches from other countries (albeit with different names), the act of stitching is a combination of techniques, materials, colours, usage and so on. These distinct characteristics are specific to different cultures.

In traditional Korean embroidery, certain stitch techniques are often closely associated with particular elements. For example, Jarit-su (a kind of brick stitch) is normally combined with twisted thread rather than half-twisted thread. Neukkim-su (it’s hard to find the equivalent but it’s a row of sparse stitches on top of satin stitches) was commonly used in embroidery done by ordinary people. While Jingguem-su (couching or goldwork), traditionally was mainly used by professional embroiderers working for nobles or the royal family, although individuals sometimes used it, albeit in different ways.

On the shoulders of giants

My work is a collaboration between myself and those who have come before me. It is a combination of their wisdom and my creativity. It is physically and spiritually connected to traditional Korean embroidery, particularly from Joseon dynasty (1392­-1897). Nearly all existing Korean embroidery pieces are from this period.

I often make replicas of ancient artefacts. While I’m recreating the pieces I try to empathise with the original makers. I imagine their circumstances and what they might have been thinking so that I can connect with their spirit and understand their way of approaching the work.

For instance, when I look at a piece of historic embroidery, rather than just reproducing the colour itself, I like to study it and take away how the different colours have been combined. After studying many pieces over and over, I realised that it is the way the colours are organised that matters.

For example, you might see a historic design with a pair of four semi-concentric water waves in different shades of one colour. At first glance they seem to be the expected colour gradations from dark to light, yet when you look more closely, they are not. One might go from dark green to light green and then to yellow, instead of the expected lighter green. Another, which is overall a blue-to-white gradation, suddenly has purple included. Or, in a red-to-white gradation, you will find a sky blue used. From my research, it seems that often the makers got bored with using the standardised colour shades and so introduced something unexpected.

Historically, embroiderers – including those for the royal court – could be creative and witty with their designs. I love discovering examples of them using freestyle stitching (sometimes a bit clumsy) or introducing a curious lavender-coloured deer, or perhaps including unexpected asymmetric figures in a symmetrical design. I like to bring a similar approach to my work.

The language of symbols

Nearly every motif in traditional Korean embroidery has a symbolic interpretation, so the way they are combined is important in terms of creating meaning. For example, a deer (symbolically the spirit of Taoism) is often shown with a mushroom (representing the elixir of life); a representation of the ‘deer’ (or Taoist spirit) achieving eternal life by eating the mushroom.

The concept of yin and yang – that opposites are needed in order for harmony to exist – meant that historically Korean embroiderers or painters preferred to put things in pairs. It might be a pair of the same animal (for example, a buck and a doe) or a pair of different things that go well together due to their symbolism, such as a pine tree and a bamboo tree, or a deer and a mushroom.

You can also make a symmetrical design out of a set of the traditional Korean longevity symbols. For example, placing a pine tree and a bamboo tree on opposite sides to each other in one panel, or a pine tree on one side of a pillow end and a bamboo tree on the other. You might use other trees if you like, and you can find a peach tree replacing bamboo in some ancient pieces, however, you’d never use something like maple trees or elderflower trees as longevity symbols. I like to notice such conceptual elements and bring them into my work.

Making up for lost time

I don’t intend to stick to the traditional way of doing things all of the time and I’m willing to be more flexible in my future work. Yet, chances are that I’ll continue working with the traditional techniques and subjects because I’d really like to see Korean embroidery given the attention it deserves.

In the late 1800s and early 1900s, Korean embroidery – along with every other element of the country – went through tough times due to Japanese colonialism. Traditional Korean embroidery was banned and people were forced to embroider in the Japanese style. This was at a time when there was a huge wave of Western culture and rapid industrialisation. 

It is only recently that Korean embroidery has begun to be studied properly and given its place. I can’t help wondering what it would have been like if it hadn’t been interrupted and, instead, given the chance to develop. It will be hard to make up for the lost time and bring Korean embroidery to where it would have been. Nevertheless, I want to try my best to branch out directly from the original Korean embroidery, rather than rushing to jump forward 100 years.

The creative process

I often embroider for hours on end, so it’s hard for me to set time aside just to plan and develop ideas. While I’m not good at organising things, I’m constantly gathering ideas. Often, I’ll be thinking about my next project when I’m walking down the street, having a cup of coffee, taking a shower, or working on a current piece.

I’ll sit with an idea, and it will often go through several rounds of revisions in my head before I bring it to fruition.

So, although I might look spaced out, my mind is busy figuring out and testing ideas, and discarding some of them along the way.

My design process is quite intuitive and instinctive. Most of it is rooted in the Korean tradition and cultural heritage, which is filled with symbolism. While there are no absolute rules, and not every piece of historic Korean embroidery follows the same structure or design, with experience and having done loads of research, you can figure out some patterns. 

When it comes to working out my design, I used to sketch with pencil and paper, which I feel most comfortable with, but I’ve gotten used to using Adobe Illustrator due to the convenient data storage.

The mother of invention

The only tools I need are a needle, embroidery threads and my hands. I like to use whatever I have around. I realised that, in the past, people didn’t have much equipment, and sometimes accidentally created something better by just managing with what they had. Therefore, I feel rather excited when I’m running out of a particular material and have to make do in order to keep going.

We often make the twisted thread ourselves; buying untwisted silk thread and twisting it by hand according to one’s preferred degree of twist. A thread can also be somewhere in between the twisted and the half-twisted. 

There are no specific brands for Korean embroidery thread. An equivalent may be something like DMC twisted silk thread, which is somewhat in between but a little bit closer to twisted rather than half-twisted thread. Outside of Korea, I usually recommend people look for 2-ply twisted silk thread or if you want a specific brand, Soie Gobelins from Au Ver a Soie would be a good example. The Silk Mill is a great visual resource.

However, there are no strict rules to follow, so technically you can use anything.

Is it worth making?

I can struggle with justifying what I create. I should say that I really love fine art, especially painting. But one of the reasons I value these traditional embroidered items so much is their practicality. Although technically, the embroidery has no function itself, one could say it has a spiritual one, like an amulet that prevents misfortune, strengthening positive symbolic meanings from the auspicious design. 

What’s interesting, however, is that most traditional embroidery embellished items created for specific functions or purposes. Of course, I’d love it if people today were able to use the items I make in the way our ancestors did. However, it’s a fact that these objects are not in everyday use nowadays. So, it’s a dilemma when I’m making something that is supposed to be used but is actually only ever looked at.

Despite creating embroidered objects without a function, I’m always trying, at the very least, to instil the essence of craft in my work – aesthetic, utility and meaning. Therefore I’m always asking myself the same question: ‘Is it worth making?’.

I hope asking this will help my work develop and mature, as well as continuing the Korean legacy of traditional embroidery, which encompasses longevity symbols, auspicious design, yin and yang, and the pure heart of the ancient embroiderers, which is found in their works.

The power of curating

In 2022 I held my first solo exhibition, which was a great impetus for me to develop my work. I also fulfilled my dream of curating and hosting an exhibition. As well as my embroidery, I prepared everything, from selecting a traditional Korean house in Seoul as the venue to designing and making posters, invitations and digital brochures (using the photos taken by my better half), plus leaflets and description labels. I even created a set of display stands by customising rods, panels and fabrics so that I could arrange my works just the way I wanted. 

Although all of this took a lot of time and effort it was worth it as, in the past, I had sometimes seen my embroidery or others’ being exhibited inappropriately or unattractively. Being my own creative director is something that I hope to continue in the future.

Seeing the light

People often comment that I have BA degrees in both Korean Language and Korean Literature, and Fashion and Textiles. That unusual combination sums up my life-long interests. Since I was a child, I’ve been captivated by anything relating to art and handicrafts, as well as Korean language and traditional culture. The national museums and galleries, or the ancient Korean palaces and temples in Seoul and other cities were our family’s regular holiday spots. I really enjoyed looking around the classical artefacts and architecture – and even souvenirs at the gift shops.

I wouldn’t describe my family as artistic but that kind of thing seems to be in my blood. My dad was a self-employed, skilful neon sign maker who wrote letters and drew his own designs. My mum was the one who, every morning I discussed what to wear and how to match things. She first taught me how to draw, sew and knit.

This family culture encouraged me to feel comfortable with seeing colours and creating things by hand, as well as preferring to work for myself rather than be an employee. Although I never thought I’d be an embroidery artist, I knew that I would end up doing something like it.

I’m directly inspired and influenced by Korean relics like paintings, costumes and pottery, along with embroidery, and indirectly by my interest in fashion and fashion design. I’ve been interested in clothing for as long as I can remember, which is why I ended up studying Fashion and Textiles and working in the clothing industry. 

It was while I was working for an international company that I first saw embroidery in a new light. I also used to design and make clothes myself. Nowadays, although fashion doesn’t directly impact my work, something like the theme of a seasonal fashion collection, a magazine fashion shoot or the colour palette of the year does make my heart beat faster and fuel my creativity.

I used to be the type of person who falls easily in and out of love with what I like. I loved painting, knitting, making clothes, writing and whatsoever, but none of them held my interest for long. This is probably why I hesitated about going straight into my own business. 

Those around me – and even me if I’m honest – probably thought my interest in embroidery would die down. However, it’s been eight years or so now since I’ve devoted myself solely to Korean embroidery and I’m still not tired of it. I have a long list of ideas to embroider so there’s no room for anything else. It will take me an enormous amount of time, maybe more than my lifetime, to complete all of what I want to create.

l would like to share what I know and love of Korean embroidery through exhibitions, lectures and talks, as well as photos and books, in both Korean and English if possible. My dream is to present a new collection of work regularly – perhaps annually or biannually as fashion designers normally do. Of course it would be a challenge, requiring a massive amount of time and effort from me, but it would be worth it as there are trends in embroidery today just as there were in the past.

Key takeaways

Inspired by her country’s embroidery traditions, Heehwa spends hours studying historic textiles to get inside the minds of the original creators. She is rewarded by noticing patterns and invisible ‘rules’ about design, colour and motifs that she can then apply to her own work. If there is a particular textile tradition or technique that inspires you, why not follow Heehwa’s example.

• Study as many pieces of your chosen technique as possible and notice how stitches, pattern, colour, design and motifs are used. Pay attention to what is repeated by different makers and possibly regions and periods, to build up a picture.

• Notice where the original makers deviate from the norm. Heehwa noticed unexpected colours being used, design rules being broken, and freestyle stitching – which can create creative and witty accents in a piece, and she tries to bring a similar approach to her work. 

• Heehwa is inspired by threads and loves to explore their characteristics – making the most of texture, light and lustre – to maximise impact. Why not experiment and discover what different effects you can achieve.

• Korean embroidery mainly uses twisted threads. Many people make their own – with their preferred degree of twist. Why not have a go and experiment with creating your own fully-twisted or half-twisted thread and see how the texture is affected.

Heehwa Jo is originally from Seoul, South Korea and is an embroidery artist mainly working in the traditional Korean way. She is also a tutor and author of a Korean embroidery tutorial book, ‘전통자수-한국의 기본자수 배우기’ (Traditional Korean Embroidery – Learning Basic Korean Embroidery). Heehwa has participated in numerous exhibitions including a solo exhibition in Seoul. She has collaborated with magazines and won awards and sponsorship for her work. After living in Edinburgh, Heehwa is now based in London, England.

Artist website: johh.creatorlink.net

Instagram: @johhembroidery

Textile artists often favour simple stitches, but use them to push boundaries, create expression and communicate meaning. Heehwa does this through traditional Korean stitches, find out how five other textile artists use simple hand stitches to create meaning in their work here.

Heehwa Jo loves to explore thread and stitch to make an impact. Why not experiment with using the same thread and stitch to fill in a series of identical shapes, but vary the direction of stitch in each one. Share what you discover below.

Award winning American textile artist Deborah Boschert uses art quilt collage as a medium to tell stories. Her work features recurring symbols, shapes and motifs that explore her personal experiences.

However, these also reflect universal themes of what it means to be human – what is important to us and how we interact with our experience, each other and the world around us. She loves that the stories she creates through her work are often interpreted very differently by the viewer. That is the power of art and the potential conversations it can generate.

Pausing, looking and self reflecting are intentional parts of her creative process, and allow her to balance the essential components of a piece – colour, composition, style and personal voice – as she assesses what works and what doesn’t. 

Deborah also reveals a willingness to let go and embrace the messiness of the creative process – the highs and lows – to encourage a spontaneity that can seem at odds with the slow, intentional nature of stitch. 

Deborah shares her system of tapping into emotions to discover the ideas that excite her, and the importance of developing and mastering the technical skills to bring her vision to fruition.

Deborah Boschert: Some people create because it’s who they are. I create to understand who I am. I’m an artist, author and teacher creating art quilt collages with layers of fabric, paint and stitch. I often incorporate personal symbols in my work. They may represent ideas and experiences that have influenced my life.

For me, the creative process gives me an opportunity to have a conversation with myself.

People often say it’s important to understand your ‘why’. Why am I creating? What am I seeking? What experience do I want to have? My biggest challenge is figuring out the answers to these questions and then prioritising those ideas. It’s easy to get distracted by opportunities that could pull me away from my real reasons for creating. It’s okay that the reasons sometimes change, but I try to balance both focus and flexibility.

Delighting in the unexpected

I’m inspired by something new every day but currently, I’m thinking about abstract compositions and layering more fabric on fabric, stitching on stitching, stitching on fabric, paint on fabric, stitching on paint, and every possible combination to create dynamic designs.

I’m also exploring beautiful, energetic, unpredictable lines that can be created with paint and a brush, and how I might get that same kind of energy with fabric and stitch.

I love abstract paintings and I have been thinking about how I can emulate the spontaneity of a brush stroke with fabric and stitching. It’s tricky because stitching a line (with machine or by hand) is inherently slow and intentional. Exploring ways to loosen up my process is an interesting challenge.

A favourite recent piece is Uncultivated. It’s part of a series where I am exploring more abstract compositions. There are many more layers of stitching and I’m switching up the order of my creative process, which allows me to add more surface design and texture as the piece progresses.

In coming up with a title for this piece, I wanted something that nodded to the idea of growth but also acknowledged the messiness of the creative process — and of life in general. Making change can be difficult and I feel like this piece is a bit out of the norm when thinking about most art quilts. But what is the norm anyway? The word ‘uncultivated’ is reminiscent of a weedy garden, but sometimes that’s where we discover unexpected delight and beauty.

The agony and the ecstasy

I love the momentum of the whole creative process and moving from one stage to the next until a piece finds its way to completion. However, it’s not always easy or predictable. Sometimes the process is slow, arduous and unclear. Other times I’m excited and motivated as I’m gathering a palette of fabrics to work with, but then I agonise over what to do with them. Sometimes I have a composition in mind but struggle with colour and mood. Or the first layers of the collage come together quickly but additional layers of paint and stitching take forever.

I have become familiar and comfortable with the unpredictable pace of the creative process which (usually) helps me stay motivated and persist through the ‘ugly’ stages. I believe the most important thing is to create regularly and to take time to reflect on the process and the results.

I spend a lot of time standing in front of my design wall just looking. I also study art made by a wide variety of artists and think about how I might use similar colours, compositions and subject matter in my own way. 

Self critique as part of the creative process is a matter of auditioning possibilities, editing and giving myself time and space to make decisions. But not too much time – I also try to remember there isn’t any real right or wrong. I’d rather make more work that is good or even great than spend too much time agonising over trying to make a few pieces that are fantastic. 

I love sharing my work and I’m eager for others to have their own experiences and ideas about my art quilt collages. I try to remember that the same piece of art that I may over critique, over work and agonise over, may be the same piece that a viewer really connects with in a positive way.

Head, heart and hands

Some people say in order to develop your voice, you just have to make a lot of work, but I think it’s more than that.

For me, it’s about finding clarity in the ideas I want to explore, joy in the process and mastery of the required skills. I try to maximise what’s going on in my head, heart and hands in order to create my best, most personal and unique work.

I think about the ideas and themes I want to explore – that’s the head part. I zero in on what makes me excited and motivated about the materials, process and other aspects of the whole process – that’s the heart element. And I refine, practice, study and master the techniques that will help me achieve my vision – that’s the hands part.

As I’ve become clearer and more confident in the materials and techniques I use, my work is more confident and has greater clarity. It all goes together. 

There are many ideas I’m eager to explore. I want to make more dense abstract work in both large and small formats. I will definitely make more contemporary graphic fabric landscapes. I’m working on some three-dimensional structures. I’d like to build a concept collection that would make an interesting exhibition. It’s a challenge to focus time and energy on so many possibilities while keeping the work cohesive and making space for experimentation.

Storytelling with symbols

I always come back to the idea that a simple shape, set in an interesting composition and embellished with other marks, stitches, and patterns can help me tell a story about my life.

I love returning to shapes, symbols, marks and motifs over and over. When I start a new piece, the seed of inspiration could take many different forms but, as the piece develops, I am always thinking about how I will incorporate elements that I’ve used in other pieces. That may be a pattern printed with an original foam stamp, or a smattering of hand embroidered ‘Y’ stitches, or an arch at the top of the composition.

When I first began making art quilts of my own design, I made lots of house quilts. At that time, my husband and I were moving every two or three years for his military career. First, I love the very simple five-sided shape that is clearly a house. But I also realised the way the houses in my quilts seemed to float in some undefined space between foreground and background could represent my unsettled feelings about all those moves. Still, there were also things I loved about moving and living in different places. So those positive elements were represented with colour, motifs and other contemporary embellishments. 

The chairs in my work are a reminder to myself that being still and restful does not mean being inactive or unaware. Sometimes it’s essential to sit quietly and take in everything around me. They represent the importance of thought, reflection and patience. 

I often incorporate ladders into my art quilt collages. I became enamoured with the ladder shape when I saw Martin Puryear’s Ladder for Booker T. Washington at the Modern Art Museum of Fort Worth in Texas. I was drawn to its graceful power and the potential for symbolism, metaphor and storytelling. Puryear’s ladder is suspended from the ceiling rather than sitting on the floor. One critic suggested that it may represent the idea that to begin a journey we have to either take a big leap or have someone else give us a lift.

I love the ladder as a very simple and yet dynamic shape. It’s just two long vertical lines and a bunch of short horizontal lines. It can take on personality depending on the curve of the lines, its relationship with the other elements in the design and how it’s repeated in size or colour. 

As I work with the ladder shape, I find myself thinking about getting from here to there – and the many things that might mean. I think about the challenges and barriers we encounter and how we pass over and through them. I try to remember that what’s at the (metaphorical) top of the ladder may, or may not be, any more important or better than what’s at the (metaphorical) bottom of the ladder. 

However, these stories are not necessarily clear to the viewer. In fact, I love it when someone tells me that a symbol in my work made them think of an entirely different representation than the one I had in mind.

Born to create

I think the familiarity of seeing people create with cloth and yarn made it possible for me to see myself creating in similar ways.

I remember childhood trips to the fabric store with my mom. I loved perusing bolts of fabric and the astounding variety of prints, patterns, weaves, weights and textures found in cloth. But fibre and needlework are in my blood. My great-grandmother, Mabel, was an accomplished fibre artist. She did weaving, dyeing, embroidery, cross-stitch, needlepoint and more. My father also did needlepoint. My grandmother knit sweaters, and my mother is an excellent seamstress. I am so thankful for the memories of watching all of them work. 

Finding my way from kid’s crafts and casual creative projects to becoming an artist has been an adventure that’s been years in the making. The crossover really happened when I began creating exclusively original work using techniques and materials that fit the needs of my vision. 

I didn’t go to art school, so the techniques I use most regularly were initially learned in workshops with art quilt teachers. I first learned raw-edged fused appliqué from Melody Johnson. It’s the foundation of how my work is constructed. Over the years, I’ve finessed the details of that process to fit my needs. 

In other workshops, I had opportunities to explore surface design techniques and stitching, both by hand and by machine. Usually, these were just one day workshops that might light a fire of curiosity and possibility for me. Sometimes I took workshops where it became clear I wasn’t interested in using what I learned, but that was equally valuable.

From there, I’d look at examples of what other artists were doing with similar techniques and experiment with how they would fit into my own work. I find it very helpful to self critique my work when it’s done, analysing what techniques worked well, which I most enjoyed, and how I might use the same techniques again, or alter them for a different effect.

Learning techniques is just one part of developing as an artist. As I worked toward creating a body of original work, I also needed clarity about things like colour sense, themes, composition, style, and personal voice. I looked at artwork of all kinds and thought about what I liked and didn’t like about a piece, which also informed my own work.

Developing through connecting

An essential part of my development has been the connections I’ve made with other artists working in the art quilt medium. Studio Art Quilt Associates (SAQA) is an especially rich and diverse organisation, which offers amazing resources to its members, not least of which are the other members themselves. I’ve learned so much from my friends.

In 2016 I was awarded first place in the Miniature Art category at the International Quilt Festival in Houston for my art quilt collage Green Bowl Gathering. It was a small piece (as required for the category), created using raw edge fused appliqué, surface design with found objects and acrylic paint, and improvisational free motion quilting combined with hand embroidery. Many of these techniques were uncommon amongst the hundreds of quilts in the judged exhibition. 

Having my work recognised and awarded gave me an immense feeling of validation.

It helped me feel confident in the materials and techniques I was using, and gave me the opportunity to articulate why these artistic choices work for me. I still like to lean into doing things differently.

I continue to share my work in exhibitions that include traditional, modern, art quilts and other textile art because I love the huge variety of work artists create by layering fabric and stitch. I love sharing my art quilt collages, talking about how and why I created them, then offering projects and exercises that give folks an opportunity to explore new ways of creating with fabric, paint and stitch. Hearing people say that they’re inspired, and seeing what they create, is definitely a highlight in my life as an artist.

I am always delighted to spend time with students in workshops. I primarily teach with quilt guilds and quilting events, so I often encounter people who are familiar with traditional quilting techniques, but eager to explore something different.

Key takeaways

In order to create work that’s meaningful and uniquely hers, Deborah delves deep into her experience. She uses self reflection to find clarity, joy and mastery. To develop your own creative voice, why not experiment with Deborah’s process by noticing:

• Head: What ideas and themes interest you? Notice what keeps recurring and explore these to find clarity and themes in your work. 

• Heart: What gives you joy? What gives you a buzz and makes your heart race? It might be materials, a particular process, motif or symbol or something else. Pay attention and notice, and then explore how you could bring this into your work. 

• Body: What techniques will help you achieve your vision? Study, practice and master these to bring your ideas to life.

Deborah Boschert is the author of Art Quilt Collage, A Creative Journey in Fabric, Paint and Stitch. Her work has been shown in gallery and quilt exhibitions all over the world including Art Quilt Elements, Quilts=Art=Quilts and many global exhibitions with Studio Art Quilt Associates. She has appeared on Quilting Arts TV and The Quilt Show. Deborah works from her home studio in Lewisville, Dallas, USA.

Artist website: deborahsstudio.com

Facebook: facebook.com/DeborahBoschertArtist

Instagram: @deborahboschert

Like Deborah, self taught watercolour artist and US art quilter, Peggy Brown stresses the importance of listening to your heart and following your own sensibilities to develop work that is uniquely yours. Discover more about how she develops her award-winning abstract art quilts here.

Recurring symbols and motifs play an essential storytelling role in Deborah’s art quilt collages. We’d love to hear what motifs or symbols appear in your work and why they are important to you. Share an image or tell us more about it in the comments below. 

Piecing together fragments of her experience – a word or phrase from a conversation, the texture of a particular piece of fabric – textile artist Hannah Lamb is constantly inspired by the everyday, as well as the rich textile heritage of the Yorkshire landscape where she lives and works.

Whether consciously or not, these influences are woven together, often using scraps of vintage fabric combined with a diverse range of techniques, to create a sense of place and her response to it.

Hannah is very much led by her emotional response to the world around her. She reveals that over time she’s learnt to trust and explore this, creating work that’s meaningful to her, rather than focusing on what might sell.

And her life as an artist is anything but isolated. Whether she is bouncing ideas off friends and family or collaborating with other artists, she has come to realise that connecting with others lights the sparks of inspiration and pushes her to create work with meaning. She reveals the joy of interacting with her audience who can become participants in the work itself, as they share their own stories and experience of the textiles they are wearing.

Hannah Lamb: My work endeavours to capture my experiences of places in a highly personal manner: through touch, making and material. My artwork becomes something about place and my place in the world, a kind of gentle presence. The work can take all kinds of forms: small 2D works, installations, and assemblages.

I am inspired by almost everything. It might be the textures and patterns of the pavement, the light as it hits the roof, a conversation I have with my student, a piece of old fabric, a science programme on TV.  I take things on board consciously and subconsciously and at some point, some aspect of these things may find its way through and become useful. Although it has changed over time, my practice always seems to find its way back to things that matter. It is often hard to define those things but they seem to centre on a highly personal experience of the material world and an awareness of surface and detail. 

My work has developed in a number of ways, mainly in terms of a freedom to express my ideas in any way I choose. I don’t feel restricted by any specific media or process and I feel I can use any format that I want. I hope there will always be a certain indescribable ‘essence’ in my work, which makes it my own.

For me, art is about working things out. Working out who you are, where you are and what your relationship is with people, environments and things.

Exploring a sense of place

I have a strong interest in textile heritage. This has been a life-long interest, strengthened by my time living in West Yorkshire, an area steeped in the heritage of textile production. The landscape is punctuated by former textile mill buildings and chimneys and there are some incredible textile collections in the area. I’ve also been very fortunate to visit a few local firms, to see the amazing processes and stories behind cloth.

Alongside my fascination with historical textiles, I’m also interested in the present day stories textiles can tell. Textiles are present in every part of our lives and so we tend to have very close relationships with clothing and cloth. I speak to a lot of people who have fond memories, or for whom an item of clothing has symbolised an important moment in their life.

These ideas fed into my project Fragment of a Dress (2022) for the Brontë Parsonage Museum.

A process of enquiry

Every project is completely different. I don’t have just one technique or material I work with, so I don’t have any specific working method. I use whatever media or process seems appropriate to the work: silk, paper, wool, hand stitch, wax, photography, found objects and more. All of that said, there are some common elements to the progression of my work. 

Whether I’ve been given a set brief, or I’m developing a more personal direction, I’ll usually start with a combination of brainstorming and some kind of background research. My research might take place in a museum or archive, on location (for site-specific work) or using books and online sources such as digital catalogues.

I don’t do much primary drawing but I sketch to work out how to do things. I also write lots of notes; ideas that come to mind, notes from journals, books and lectures, observations and reminders. Sometimes my journal becomes a place to document the evolution of ideas, in case I need to turn back and retrace my steps. 

During the initial ideas process, I’ll often make use of my pinboard in the studio to bring visual ideas together. I pin up postcards, photos, sketches and materials. This helps me to see connections between things that I might not have spotted otherwise. It’s also a useful visual reminder of what I’m working on, which is handy as my studio time can be sporadic.

In the early stages of a project, I might have a number of different ideas, and I think it’s healthy to explore a variety of paths before settling on what you want to create. 

This will often involve talking ideas through with friends, family or colleagues. There’s something about verbalising my thoughts that helps me make sense of them and gives me the confidence to try new things.

Once I’ve decided what I’m going to make, I’ll often do some kind of textile sampling or testing to try the idea out on a smaller scale and with a variety of materials. This helps me to refine my processes and encourages me to take risks.

In terms of making a final piece, over the years I’ve found myself working on a larger scale. I think this is partly a result of having access to bigger spaces to make work but also as a response to the places I’ve exhibited. The vast interiors of former textile mills lend themselves particularly well to textile art on a grand scale.

The magic of collaboration

Projects I’ve done involving other people are particularly special. In 2016 I created a project with my friend Claire Wellesley-Smith called ‘Lasting Impressions’. The work was commissioned as part of the Saltaire Arts Trail and we were given the fabulous opportunity to work in the attic space of Salts Mill. The Spinning Room was once the longest in the world at 123m (405ft). It’s a vast and magical space with beautiful natural daylight and a strange quality that feels somewhere between a cathedral and the deck of a ship.

Claire and I created a project that would engage visitors in thinking about textiles we wear and use every day. We asked visitors to create an impression of an item of clothing they were wearing on a piece of soft porcelain clay. We also asked them to note down where the item came from, what it was made of and what they liked about it. It created a fascinating archive of cloth and clothing – a kind of time capsule for our attitudes to materials and consumption of textiles. We completed a follow-up the year after that explored materials in more depth.

It was great to work with Claire, as well as with a few wonderful volunteers. It was my first time collaborating on a project and I found it a really stimulating process. I also enjoyed the dialogue with the audience/participants and these factors have encouraged me to bring other people into my projects much more.

Learning from other artists

When I started out I felt quite isolated in my practice. Being a visual artist is often considered quite solitary work but it doesn’t have to be. Being part of a shared studio can help you feel more connected. I would also encourage aspiring artists to look for exhibiting groups or artist networking opportunities in their local area. 

I’ve been a member of the 62 Group since 2013 and was absolutely bowled over to be accepted into the group. Just being accepted was a huge achievement for me and helped to validate my practice.

I became a committee member quite early on, which has helped me connect with other members and develop my professional practice. The group is run on a cooperative basis, with all members expected to help with the running of the group. I think it’s very much a case of ‘you get out what you put in’.

I have learnt so much from working with galleries, exhibition hanging, helping on selection panels and even seemingly mundane tasks like packing and unpacking work. You get to see how other artists tackle things, both in terms of creative and practical challenges.

The other aspect I find helpful about being in the group is the ‘three strikes rule’. The group has a strict rule that every exhibition is selected, so it’s never a guarantee that your work will be shown. If you don’t submit work or it’s not selected three times in a row, you forfeit your membership. Just knowing this is enough to keep me on my toes.

It’s been a huge privilege to share experiences with long-standing members as well as exciting new artists. I often have to pinch myself that I get to exhibit with such a creative and prestigious group.

Feel the fear and go for it

An ongoing challenge for me is self-belief. It can be hugely disheartening when I’m knocked back with applications and exhibitions but it’s important to know that every artist has to deal with rejection. I have no magic wand to fix this, but I suppose the adage ‘feel the fear and do it anyway’ is probably as good as any.

When I’m feeling stuck or overwhelmed I draw on strategies already mentioned such as using a pinboard and chatting ideas through with friends and family. Another helpful tip I find is to leave some work undone at the end of the day. This is particularly important for me as my studio time is often fragmented.

Often my compulsion will be to try to finish something off, but in fact, leaving my work with a little bit left to do helps prevent procrastination. I try to leave something out on my desk to finish. That way, next time I walk in the studio I can pick up where I left off straight away, without having to think what to do. I find this buys me some time for thinking as I complete this task so that I can settle in and consider my next steps.

Cultivating an awareness of craft

I would not be the person I am without growing up in a household where paint brushes and pots of PVA glue lived permanently next to the kitchen sink and yoghurt pots were religiously hoarded because ‘they might come in handy’. In our house, the pincushion belonged on the coffee table, not hidden away in a work basket, and everyone knew which scissors were for paper and which ones were reserved for fabric.

I realise now that our family was unusual for making, repairing and recycling so many things at home. My brother and I were encouraged to have collections as hobbies and when my Grandparents saw a magazine article about antique buttons it started a lifelong collecting habit for me.

Visiting museums as a child and collecting buttons gave me a wonderful awareness of craft and material. We visited so many places where you could see how craftsmen and manufacturers used to make things; cotton and woollen mills, tanneries, coal mines, basket makers, blacksmiths, coopers, rope makers, dye gardens, silk ribbon weavers… I was fascinated by it all. 

Once you start to look at objects and consider how they were made or why that material was used and where did it come from, it becomes fascinating and tells a much bigger picture.

Another key influence on my practice was an awareness of the natural world. Despite not being outdoorsy as a child, I always loved wildflowers, trees and birds. My mother and grandmother taught me the names of garden plants, wildflowers and birds and I learned more from books. 

When I was a teenager, I used to walk through the fields and beech woods: looking, exploring and gathering. It was a way for me to find out where I was from.

Now I use walking a great deal as a means of observing, collecting and experiencing – this is my ‘visual research’.

Discovering textile art

No one in my family was an artist or considered themselves to be ‘arty’. I went to a secondary school with a great art department. My art teacher was a great influence on me through her teaching of drawing and textile-related projects.

I don’t really remember one key moment when I became aware of textile art, just a gradual awakening to this world of textile that spans design, art, history, domestic craft and culture. ‘Textile art’ is perhaps a part of that but I prefer to see connections between all aspects of textile.

After school, I chose to study for a Foundation in Art & Design at what is now Buckinghamshire University. I knew I wanted to study art textiles by this point and was determined to work in the fine art department rather than with the fashion and textile design students.

I did a BA (Hons.) Embroidery at Manchester Metropolitan University (MMU) and found myself on the perfect course. However, looking back I realise that after I graduated from university, I was drifting from my sense of self and distracted by the directions and demands of others. I was also exploring lots of new ideas and what I could do. 

I started working more as a ‘designer maker’ making one-off pieces of textile jewellery, collages and bags using vintage materials that have been copied a lot since. I also experimented with designing screen-printed domestic textiles, which was fun but I realise now, not really me.

I now know that there are lots of different things that I could do but that doesn’t mean that I need to.

After leaving MMU I started exhibiting and selling my work and went on to do a MA in Textiles which was an opportunity to refresh my practice and return to the ideas that really matter to me.

I made a big change to the way I work when I did my MA. I was determined to get back to something that was really me, rather than making work that I thought people would want to buy. This shift in thinking has been wonderful but a big challenge. Oddly I find it much harder being myself but it is ultimately more satisfying emotionally.

I’ve been a lecturer at Bradford School of Art since 2004 and I am now the Programme Leader for the Foundation Degree in Textiles Practice at Bradford College. I work from my home studio; a lovely light-filled building opposite my house. Sometimes I also make use of the workshop facilities at Bradford College.

Key takeaways

Are you willing to dig deep to bring an emotional resonance to your work? Hannah discovered the importance of creating work that was meaningful to her – even if it might be more challenging emotionally. Why not have a go at exploring ideas that resonate with you at a deeper level.

• Try making a pinboard like Hannah’s and collect images, words, phrases, colour swatches – whatever captures your eye or has meaning for you. Creating your own visual collage will help you see connections and ideas that you can explore further in your work. You can also do this digitally, with Pinterest for example.

• Hannah uses her love of walking in nature to gather inspiration. Is there an activity that you love to do that might provide inspiration for you? 

• Hannah deliberately interacts with other artists to push herself and develop her work. Is there a way you could do something similar?

• If you don’t know where to start, then try Hannah’s trick of leaving a piece of work unfinished, so you can pick it up immediately the next time you start work.

Hannah Lamb lives in Bingley, near Bradford in West Yorkshire, England. She has exhibited around the UK,  with the 62 Group of Textile Artists, and in 2021 had a solo exhibition at the Knitting & Stitching Shows. In 2022 Hannah was commissioned by the Brontë Parsonage Museum to create Fragment of a Dress. Her first solo book Poetic Cloth: Creating Meaning in Textile Art was published in 2019 by Batsford.

Artist website: hannahlamb.co.uk

Instagram: @hannahlambtextileartist

Facebook: facebook.com/hannahlambartist

Like Hannah, American artist Christine Mauersberger’s work ranges from the small and intimate to large scale installations. Christine uses stitch to express her inner response to the external world. Find out more about the benefits of working in a variety of different scales here.

Hannah discovered the power of collaboration with other artists and also her audience, who then became contributors to the work. Have you tried collaborating with someone else or created an artwork or installation that requires audience participation? We’d love to hear more of your experience so let us know below

Embellish, connect, transform is how artist and educator, Elnaz Yazdani defines – and challenges – the process of embroidery. Using these elements as prompts, literally, metaphorically and poetically, she explores embroidery, including making unseen forces such as magnetism and sound visible.

Elnaz uses traditional goldwork techniques including zardozi, which draws on her Persian heritage. However, rather than precious metals, Elnaz creates embellishment from industrial waste, scraps, and even flowers and foliage from her allotment, thereby transforming ‘the mundane into the magnificent’.

Elnaz is passionate about sharing her textile skills and promoting the importance of embroidery as an art form for the future, as well as for community well being. She believes embroidery has the power to bring individuals together to build and strengthen resilience. At any time, she may be inspiring nine and ten-year-olds to discover ways of making sound waves visible using stitch, or leading a community collaboration project, helping individuals sew their way to better health.

Elnaz Yazdani: I am inspired by industrial upcycled materials and the different ways I can embellish, connect or transform items through stitch to develop a surface or form. My practice explores ways of transforming traditional embroidery techniques through my choice of unusual materials, such as found objects, metal, glass, plastic, rubber and, more recently, dried plant matter. My unique embroidery style has allowed me to work across fashion, jewellery and installations.

Surface alchemy

My inspiration is eclectic and depends on the project. In the past, I’ve been inspired by physics and forces such as sound and magnetism. I was obsessed with the alchemy of cloth, but instead of turning base metals into gold, turning something mundane into something magnificent. It required some searching, testing and exploring on my part to capture a visual but I love working with the unseen.  

Since the pandemic, I have explored mental health and the potential power of embroidery on an individual’s well being, resilience and growth. I am currently trying to design a way of defining embroidery that encompasses the process as a means to embellish, connect and transform us, both physically and mentally.

Embroidery has the ability to embellish our lives, connect with each other and transform our outlook of the craft.

More recently I have drawn inspiration from my allotment, working with dried flowers and dried plant matter from the garden. I first got into gardening for my well being. I needed a rest from my practice and wanted to do something different to sewing and teaching embroidery. However, I quickly saw connections between gardening and embroidery: the bed in my yard reminding me of a blank canvas, which I could embellish with plants.

I have since found ways to connect nature and embroidery by exploring how I can use found elements from the garden in my artwork. I love collecting dried plants and items which I can stitch using goldwork techniques and incorporate with embellishment variations. 

It’s really got me excited, and it’s merging my two loves of gardening and textiles. This recent use of plant life is drawn from my ongoing interest in the use of unusual objects and exploring ways I can transform them into a sculptural piece of embroidery.

The creative process

My process varies, and the project or theme determines my starting point. I usually begin by exploring or researching the topic. Then I develop an understanding of how that theme might be visually represented in or with stitch and materials.

The next step is collection or gathering. I spend a great deal of time sourcing materials and organising them before I begin any sewing. Unusual materials inspire me and I love discovering new ways of seeing them and putting them together. The preparation is part of the fun.

I collect based on theme, colour, texture, size and combination. It’s as if I’m creating a visual palette of materials.

Then, using sketches or mapping notes, I collage. I lay out my fabric and decide where clusters of certain stitches might form, how they might match or work alongside an area of rubber tubing, for example, or how my chosen purl wire will look next to an area of beads.

Once I have mapped them out, I begin stitching, usually from the centre out. This makes me utilise the whole surface area of the fabric, as well as explore the potential of the piece at a larger scale.

Messing with convention

I enjoy exploring traditional goldwork techniques using unexpected materials. I love using wool grounds such as fine or boiled wools as they provide a strong base to work on, which is necessary when stitching with unusual materials.

A purl thread or bullion wire is used in goldwork. I love the structure of these metal threads and they are great at holding unusual materials and embellishments in place. The structure gives a sturdiness to the work as well as a three-dimensional sculptural quality to the overall piece. I also enjoy using the check metal wires used in goldwork to explore line, mark making and embellishments.

When using any metal wires or unusual materials, I recommend that you always wax your thread and use a fine needle, so the materials don’t snag on your thread or fabric.

I source my unusual materials from all over, however, I have one local recycling store in Leeds called Scrap which I love. I can spend hours there collecting materials and coming up with ideas for new pieces and projects.

The making of an artist

My art is ever evolving and I have encountered many influential turning points along the way.

I knew I wanted to specialise in embroidery as a craft practice and discipline. My degree at the Manchester School of Art helped shape who I am as an artist today – the inspirational lecturers and students on my course were fantastic. 

I was taught by some well known and experienced embroiderers such as Alice Kettle, Kate Egan, Jane McKeating and Nigel Hurlstone. They helped each one of us tune in to our practice, and our likes and dislikes so that everyone’s work was unique. All these individuals helped to shape my understanding and definition of what embroidery is or has the potential to be.

The Covid pandemic and its lockdowns were a difficult time. However, it was also a key moment for my art as I was awarded the Beryl Dean Award for Teaching Excellence in Embroidery and I became an Embroiderers’ Guild Scholar (under 30), after the successful launch of my virtual embroidery school Embroider Your Future. 

It was a fantastic achievement during such a turbulent and uneasy time. Although I struggled with my well being, I sought comfort through my art and made some of the work I am now most proud of including Magnetic World.

Teach and learn

I taught embroidery to costume, textile and fashion students at the University of Huddersfield for seven years. During this time I developed a huge body of techniques, which I continue to explore in my own practice.

In my role as embroidery technician, I explored and taught all sorts of applications and techniques, including digital embroidery and machine embellishment techniques mixed with my usual hand sewing and embellishment processes.

Working as an embroidery technician for so long helped me understand and respect the importance of traditional technique and mastering your craft.

I loved teaching fabric manipulation techniques such as smocking. My favourite type of smocking is Canadian smocking or direct smocking. I enjoy working a smocked ground into the fabric and then working my embellishments or purl bullion wires over the top to provide depth and interest.  

My work developed massively during this time as I had the chance to explore techniques and deepen my understanding through teaching and delivering them on a regular basis.

When I was a technician, I used to see how everyone (including myself) wanted to learn everything! However, we encouraged students to specialise or focus their skills to develop a key aspect of their practice, rather than flit from one technique to the next – although it is a tricky thing to do when you are learning because everything is so inspiring.

I do use a lot of different techniques because of my technical background. However, I find the materials help limit me as I tend to explore materials and combinations rather than constantly introducing new techniques.

If you like the look of a technique, I recommend you explore it thoroughly and get to know it well.

I did this with bullion wire that’s used in goldwork. Exploring various applications and ideas using just one technique was really helpful.

One generation to the next

Sewing and embroidery have always come naturally to me. They have always just been there: simple stitches woven into everyday life. As a young girl, I learned embroidery from my mother, who had learned it from her mother. My grandmother was a dressmaker, so she had a wealth of sewing knowledge to share and pass down through generations.

My Persian heritage is from my father, who moved to the UK from Iran in 1978. My grandfather owned a fabric shop in Iran so my dad grew up surrounded by fabric. He remembers being a small boy and learning how to sew a buttonhole stitch. When I was a teenager and raiding my grandmother’s old sewing things, I found a small stitch booklet, 29 Embroidery Stitches and I taught myself most of these.

I learned the power of knowing ten to 15 basic embroidery stitches. Then, the needle becomes like a wand, and you are free to express yourself with stitch and thread in any way you like.

Community connections

I have always taught embroidery workshops in the community alongside my practice, however after two years of lockdowns, business closures, illness, and isolation, I felt communities must creatively rehabilitate culturally and socially. Therefore, I wanted to explore working more with embroidery in the community. 

I began working with women and non-binary groups across Leeds and have continued to work at Stitch-Up CIC running weekly sessions for well-being and embroidery, as well as for WOVEN in Kirklees, where I provide a number of community workshops and courses on embroidery.

My creative practice has shown me how embroidery and its education can improve community well being and connect people.

My work with groups is often through social prescribing means – individuals are prescribed by their doctor or via a mental health organisation such as Mind and directed to my weekly sessions. I run the sessions differently based on the project or theme for that term. For example, we are currently making a quilt top with patchwork and using embellishment and embroidery techniques over the top.

It’s lovely to work on something collectively and it will remain at the community centre when we finish. All the artwork I create with the community stays within the community so they can enjoy it. I am currently undergoing qualitative community engagement research on an MA by research at the University of Huddersfield.

Working with the community is healing for the individuals involved in the sessions and also for the artist leading the session. Sharing skills with others is huge for me. I love teaching embroidery, and I enjoy inspiring others and encouraging others to get involved with the craft. I have made wonderful connections through these groups and formed lasting friendships and networks in my immediate community. The community gives me a genuine love for my craft.

We learn from each other and inspire each other with ideas and support through stitching together. Stitch is very powerful at bringing people together after times of hardship.

Embroider your future

I carried on teaching throughout the pandemic and developed my own online summer school Embroider Your Future. In 2020 I was commended with the teaching excellence award in embroidery via the Embroiderers’ Guild (Beryl Dean Award).

My intention behind applying was to showcase my sample work and contribution to embroidery as an artist but also as an educator. At the time, I was working as an embroidery artist as well as an embroidery technician. I had been working in education for five years and I could see a declining number of students taking subjects such as textiles. I wanted to try and combat this with my scholarship submission.  

I submitted a range of sample work exploring my hand embroidery style and I developed a week-long educational summer school called Embroider Your Future designed to inspire and support GCSE and A Level students (16-18 year olds) with their understanding of embroidery and its potential in the creative industry.

Since my scholarship year, I have also developed Embroider Your Future into an ongoing online course via the Embroiderers’ Guild for those interested in embroidery and design. I would like to continue with this course for as long as I can, developing it along the way to suit the needs of the audience. I aim to bring the course to students at school wanting to explore hand stitch in their work and inspire the next generation of embroidery artists and designers. 

I am dedicated to sharing my textile skills and promoting the importance of embroidery as an art form for the future and for community well being. I am currently involved in a number of educational projects across Yorkshire which embed textiles and art into the early years’ curriculum including Weaving Together a Story of Place funded by the Paul Hamlyn Foundation and Change Project 2023 funded through the Mosaic Group.

Key takeaways

Elnaz’s main focus is challenging the process of embroidery. She has developed a definition of the embroidery process as ’embellish, connect and transform’, which is the cornerstone of her work. The three elements provide a great starting point for inspiration. You can choose one individually or any combination.

• Embellish What unusual materials could you use to embellish a piece of work, or perhaps you could manipulate fabric to create a statement? Elnaz’s jewellery embellishes the body. How could you interpret embellishment to create a one-off piece of textile art to wear?

• Connect How can you apply this to your work? This might include working in a series with a metaphoric or emotional connection for example; or connecting one piece to another physically to create a particular form, or it might include using stitch to bring two elements together.

• Transform How can you transform an object or fabric with textile or stitch – either its surface or its form?

Elnaz Yazdani is an embroidery artist and educator based in Leeds, Yorkshire (UK).  Elnaz graduated from Manchester School of Art in 2014 with a BA (Hons) in Textiles in Practice. In 2020 she was awarded the Beryl Dean Award for Teaching Excellence in Embroidery and Design in Textile Art by The Embroiderers’ Guild, and also announced as its 18-30 Years Scholar that year.

Artist website: elnazyazdani.com

Instagram: @elnazyazdani

Facebook: facebook.com/Elnazyazdani

Georgina Bellamy is another artist turning goldwork on its head. Georgina uses intricate goldwork to create three-dimensional sculptures of animals. And, like Elnaz, Georgina is also passionate about passing on her skills and bringing embroidery into the community. Discover how Georgina creates her amazing menagerie of animals.

Elnaz is inspired by the materials she uses. Sourcing, choosing and combining different materials is an integral part of her process. What unusual materials do you use in your work? We’d love to see what you have used so let us know below – and share a photograph if you have one!

Exchanging a brush for a needle, and paint for embroidery threads, was a game changer for artist Nneka Jones.

Growing up in Trinidad & Tobago, Nneka had spent hours helping her mother thread needles and manipulate fabric. And, as a fine art student, she was inspired by the work of other textile artists. So, when her college professor asked her to ‘paint without paint’ Nneka chose to explore creating a portrait with thread. 

Nneka wanted to bring her experience with paint into the process and work more intuitively, rather than research traditional embroidery techniques. As a result, the way she works was changed forever. 

Although stitch is a challenging medium, she relishes how it forces her to slow down and be more experimental in how she approaches a portrait. It’s often only when viewers take a second look that they realise that Nneka’s thought provoking portraits are stitched by hand – with different coloured stitches layered like expressive brushstrokes creating the painterly effect. 

Today her practice explores portraiture and symbolism across multiple media such as textiles, mixed media and paint, and through public art and large scale murals.

As Nneka has refined her technique, she has also honed her artistic voice and the messages she wants to convey. Through her choice of subject matter, she’s taken up the role of an artist activist, commenting on social and environmental injustice and speaking up for the protection and celebration of girls and women of colour. Growing up, Nneka realised there was a dearth of successful female artist role models, and so, she’s committed to showing other young women of colour a vision of what is possible.

Nneka Jones: Becoming an activist artist was an organic transition within my practice. I always loved seeing hyper-realistic artwork and my portraiture work would often reflect this. My focus then was mainly to capture a moment in time, as well as the beauty of the individual I was painting or drawing. However, as my medium changed so did my messaging. 

Once I started working with embroidery, my reasons for creating developed as I honed my artistic style and voice, and realised how strongly my fibre work impacted many different people. 

My artwork serves as a voice for those who are often silenced. It reveals the reality and has a rawness that captures the attention of anyone who takes the time to observe the artwork and will either evoke an emotional reaction or prompt a bigger response and start a conversation.

Women of colour have historically been associated with the terms ‘independent’, ‘powerful’ and ‘strong’, so much so that in times of need they are often abandoned or rarely ever protected and celebrated. As much as these terms may be true, they should not be used as shields when reflecting on social and environmental injustices in society.

My job as an activist artist is to remind society that these young girls and women are human and require the greatest amount of love and protection, particularly with topics that are often sensitive.

Currently, my work focuses more on identity across cultures and within oneself. The use of the female figure and portraiture has helped me to reflect on the importance of removing negative stereotypes to rebuild a true reflection of who I am. 

Often people can see themselves in my work and are usually captivated by the gaze and eyes of the figures I stitch or paint. None of this is by mistake. These are topics that require honesty, observation, movement, emotion, conversation, and an obligation to yourself and others to be willing to do the internal and external work that would make society an overall better place.

From inspiration to artwork

Developing a work of art always starts with an image that holds prominence in my mind. Although I may not see all the elements of the design, I am often clear on the aura and overall message prior to starting the artwork.

I start putting these thoughts and images down on paper. I begin to research images, some of which I may have taken myself. Once I have a few source images, I collage them to recreate that initial image I had previously developed in my mind. This ‘image collage’ is created digitally in Photoshop. This process can take anywhere from a day to a week of planning. Once I’m happy with the image collage, I print it and use it as my reference image to start the physical artwork.

I work mainly on stretched canvas and cotton fabric but have also used monk’s cloth as my substrate for large scale artwork. Once I have decided on the final digital image that I’ll be referencing, I transfer hand sketched details to the canvas using a pencil or light marker, and carbon paper to ensure I get the exact measurements of the portrait. This acts as a guide or colour map once I begin sewing.

My starting point is almost always the eyes, as these are usually the focal area of my pieces.  Then, I usually select one area and work from the centre of that section to the outer portions, making my way through the portrait by finishing each section as I go. 

I rarely ever come back to a section once it is complete unless I am adding highlights to the skin tone after laying the mid tones down. Sometimes I use coloured pre-stretched fabric but if not, I will either carefully paint the background in around the thread and yarn or add fabric swatches using hand embroidery.

Going large

For oversized portraits, it is much easier for me to cover the surface using the punch needle technique as I am able to work a lot faster. I use a combination of yarn and embroidery thread to add texture as well as efficiently cover the surface area of each section.

When working on a larger scale with textile or embroidered portraits, remember that this image is simply made up of many different colours and shape variations. It can become overwhelming if you are looking at it as a whole rather than selecting different sections to work with.

Breaking the portrait down and simplifying it, especially if working from a reference image, will help you to identify the colours and shapes in that section, as well as the correct thread colours and ultimately leads to a more realistic outcome.

Waving the flag for embroidery

I was born in Trinidad and Tobago, and my Caribbean roots and culture were both great influences in my early works as an artist. They have moulded me into the artist I am today, particularly in my love for colour and special attention to detail – although I was always more interested in the people and capturing moments in time in Trinidadian culture, rather than stereotypical subjects such as palm trees and the ocean.

Growing up I was aware of many successful male artists in the Caribbean, such as Jackie Hinkson and James Armstrong, but I rarely ever saw women artists who had the same magnitude of success. This pushed me to become the role model that I was constantly searching for. 

Of course, I have had many women who mentored me along the way, such as my high school art teachers, but the vision of an artist whose work was loved and appreciated on an international scale almost felt impossible until I found embroidery and started using my artwork to truly make an impact.

My embroidery and textile work have taken me places in my art career that I would have never even imagined. One of my proudest moments was having my hand embroidered American Flag grace the cover of Time magazine in 2020. This came right after I was unable to display my artwork for my final graduation show due to the pandemic shutdown, so it was surreal that my artwork would go from not being seen to being viewed by millions of people around the world.

I’m delighted to hear of many students and young girls who are inspired by my work and journey as a young artist. I am pleased I can confidently say that I am paving the way for many of them to fulfil that vision and live their dream.

Sew out of my comfort zone

The process of working with paint is a lot easier for me. If I want a particular shade of a colour, I can easily mix it on my painting palette. However, thread pushes me outside of my comfort zone, finding different techniques of ‘mixing’ threads to create a specific shade.

Stitching is a bit more challenging, particularly with portraiture, as I still have to maintain some form of representation in order for it to look like the photo or image I am trying to recreate. This allows me to work on my craftsmanship and patience, while still enjoying the process of hand sewing.

Ultimately, what I love about textiles and stitching is the texture and variety that it creates, adding a new dimension to the artwork, as well as pushing the boundaries of older, traditional techniques to create contemporary fibre art.

My biggest challenge is the length of time and dedication it takes to complete a piece and how this contrasts with the demand on social media for fast turnover of content. 

As an artist and entrepreneur, it can become pretty overwhelming trying to keep up with trends, yet still maintaining the quality of your textile work. Those working primarily in fine art may be able to make quick adjustments to satisfy this but as I work without a tufting gun or sewing machine, I can only go as fast as my body will allow.

However, I am working towards finding a balance of not rushing my process unnecessarily but capturing different stages and embracing each part of it as I know many people can relate and benefit from this.

Key takeaways

Nneka developed her unique style and voice by exploring a new medium without researching the traditional way of doing things. Instead, she brought her own experience to it and worked intuitively, experimenting as she did so.

• If you’ve ever wanted to stitch a portrait, try following Nneka’s method. Choose a good reference image as a starting point. Simplify the portrait into key shapes and colours. Decide on your colour palette and organise your threads into different colours and tones of light, medium and dark. Work on a section at a time to prevent overwhelm. You can add highlights at the very end. 

• Stitching forces Nneka out of her comfort zone and to work in a different way, which has enabled her to grow and develop new directions in her work. What could you do to move out of your comfort zone and explore something new? 

• Nneka’s passion for speaking up for girls and women of colour has become an integral part of her work and her role as an artist activist. What are you passionate about, and how could you introduce this into your work?

Nneka Jones is a Trinidadian-born multidisciplinary artist currently living and working in Tampa, Florida, in the USA. Since graduating from the University of Tampa in 2020, she has been commissioned by publications such as Time magazine (USA) and the Washington Post (USA). Nneka was a keynote speaker for Adobe MAX in 2020, and has a solo exhibition at The Knitting & Stitching Show at Alexandra Palace, London (5–8 October 2023).

Artist website: artyouhungry.com

Instagram:  @artyouhungry

Facebook: facebook.com/ArtYouHungry?

Capturing a likeness is always a challenge, and creating it in stitch and textiles is even harder. Find out how seven textile artists, with very different styles, approach portraiture and discover what they have learned along the way.

Why not have a go at creating a portrait using textiles – you can always use yourself as the subject as Nneka did. We’d love to see what you come up with so do share your portraits with us. 

Concrete and textiles are not words you usually hear in the same sentence, let alone expect to see combined in a piece of work.

Textile artist Nerissa Cargill Thompson is passionate about combatting pollution and climate change; she’s also inspired by the textures and colours of the natural and manmade world around her. So her use of concrete is a deliberate attempt to show how the often translucent nature of the detritus that litters the landscape is in fact creating a permanent scar on our planet. 

However, instead of being overwhelmed by today’s throwaway culture, Nerissa literally picks up rubbish piece by piece before transforming individual items into works of art – delivering a powerful message in a beautifully embellished package of colour, texture, and form.

By drawing on her lifelong love of the landscape and natural world and her desire to protect it, Nerissa’s work reduces the global issue of climate change to a local one, bringing home the message that every individual has a responsibility and can make a difference.

Nerissa’s way of working with concrete and used textiles is unique. By layering her fabrics with colour and texture, embroidered with additional marks and forms from nature, and dipped or cast in concrete, she illustrates how the cups, bottles and other items that are tossed away become an unnatural part of the living landscape.

Nerissa Cargill Thompson: I am inspired by observing the world around me. I document and respond to the changes I see. I love textures in nature but also those that are man made. I’m always on the lookout for interesting juxtapositions of structure and colour: the contrast of nature and stone; coastal textures like the lichens and limpets that envelop eroded rocks; the moss and fungus on fallen logs or the growth in urban settings that reminds us that nature finds a way to fight back.

I was born in Manchester but when I was eight years old we moved to Pittenweem on the coast of Fife in Scotland. I’m sure starting my life in the city meant the move to the coast brought new adventure and freedom rather than taking that environment for granted. Although I’m now living back in Manchester I love going back to visit the coast and my mum and I always return with more photos of rocks than my family.

Most of my sculptural work highlights the issue of plastic pollution and climate change. It’s influenced by the litter I see each day that’s entering our waterways and ending up in our seas and on our beaches.

I want people to consider the packaging that we use and discard on a daily basis: objects such as plastic bottles that seem insignificant so that we barely notice them but yet have such a long lasting impact on the environment.

Every object tells a story

As an 18-year-old from a small village, I didn’t feel I had anything to say with my art – or nothing that I felt happy sharing with the world – so I didn’t feel I could be an artist. However, working in theatre design gave me a chance to use my creative skills to tell someone else’s story and help an audience to get a deeper, richer experience. Every show was about a different time or place or culture or issue. 

My desire to work in textiles links with my theatre background, as textiles hold stories and we choose different textiles in both set and costumes to signpost period, culture, class, status etc. With a background in prop making, particularly masks and sculptural costumes, I knew I wanted to use these skills to manipulate textiles through stitch, moulding and casting to create three-dimensional work.

There is also a wonderful sensory aspect to the colours and textures in textiles. I find them a good medium when working on wellbeing and mental health projects. This year I’ve made the set and costumes for an intimate performance touring special schools all made from old clothing and household textiles so they can experience it through both sight and touch.

Always be looking. Keep noticing. I use my phone to photograph both natural and urban textures that inspire my textiles and also moments that suggest a story to me.

I document and respond to the changes I see in the world around me. I create my textiles in my small garden studio and cast my mixed media pieces at Neo Studios in Bolton.

Inspired by leftovers

I like how the concrete can represent both the coastal rocks and also the urban man made environment.

I started using concrete in my work because I had a bag left over from a building project. I loved the contrast with the textiles, and the way it captured the embossed patterns and logos on the plastic waste. The concrete also gives the pieces weight and a sense of permanence and legacy that, at first sight, isn’t the case with the original plastic as it is so light and often transparent, even though the reality is that it will, in fact, last centuries. 

The plastic waste that I used to make my first mixed media pieces was mainly food and drink litter. As these are hollow containers, they lent themselves well to casting inside. However, during the Green Loop Project, the range of plastic waste that I was exploring expanded – I worked with Ribble Rivers Trust and Love My Beach regarding particular issues on the Fylde Coast. I needed to develop a method of representing the legacy of this waste too. 

For some, I cast in other plastic waste like I had with my face mask pieces to create a facsimile of the waste. Others I dipped part of the piece to make it solid and heavy but left the textures created with embellishing and embroidery exposed, showing new growth as the waste becomes part of the landscape. 

I am currently developing a series about balloons, another item whose image contrasts with the environmental impact. I have been manipulating old logo t-shirts with stitching, to mimic the way balloons warp and distort as they shrivel and deflate. These have also been dipped in concrete as a symbol of their impact.

As concrete has certain environmental issues, I am always trying to find more sustainable versions like using recycled or lighter weight aggregates. Current greener alternatives would mean making moulds, whereas using plastic waste to cast in doesn’t just reuse waste but also saves on mould-making materials and energy.

Fail again better

My biggest challenge in creating art is having the time to play and explore.

It took me a while to develop my technique of combining textiles and concrete so that they read as a cohesive, holistic object – sculptures that represented the idea of the legacy of waste made using waste – rather than seeming stuck together. I overcame this through trial and error – lots of error – but developing this within the context of an MA in Textile Practice gave me permission to spend time experimenting.

I stitch the textiles inside the plastic waste to keep it in position while I cast the concrete. After it is set, the stitches are removed so the piece can be released once the textiles are permanently embedded in the concrete. This gives a softer, more natural join than sticking it on after the casting process. Although it does mean that if the casting fails, that piece of textile work is destroyed.

Secondhand first

Reusing is better for the environment than recycling as it uses less energy. Why use new when there is such a wealth of materials available to reuse already, often on its way to landfill.

Sustainability has always been a part of my life thanks to my mum. She brought me up to limit waste, reuse, make do and mend and to try secondhand first. She gave me my love of charity shops and beach combing, and understanding the search for hidden gems. She also introduced me to art in all its forms, across genres, periods and cultures. She loves textiles and rugs in their traditional forms but also contemporary textile art. My life was full of colour and texture and clutter and still is.

My training in theatre design and working in community theatre meant shopping for props and costumes in the cheapest of the charity shops where I would see long racks and bins of clothing destined for landfill and it seemed such a wasted resource. When I first started making craft, I used leftover materials from my theatre work and then progressed to buying old clothing specially to cut up.

I buy shirts, dresses and curtains for craft projects and workshops from the bargain rails and bins in charity shops for both economic reasons and ecological sustainability. 

An embellisher, or felting machine, has multiple needles but no thread. The needles distort and blend the fibres of the fabrics. I tend to use a base fabric with good wool content, such as old suit trousers which have more than one tone as this reacts to the embellisher even before I start adding other fabrics, softening the transitional areas between the colourful textures and the background. I mainly work from behind, basically mashing fabrics through, blending different tones and textures to give a subtle variety, mimicking nature.

I choose assorted items in my chosen palette of greens and yellows, as the mix of different tones and weights gives a softer, more natural look to the finished work. For appliqué projects, I choose textured knitwear and patterned voiles to represent the mosses and lichens.

Thinking through making

Sometimes the history and story of the garments I use feed into the meaning of the piece. Although sometimes I sketch I am more likely to go straight in with sampling, using stitch to manipulate the fabric; testing combinations and creating new forms and textures – thinking while making. 

As I use old clothing, I have a limited amount of each fabric so when it’s gone, it’s gone. Because I cast in actual litter, the size of my sculptures is constrained. Therefore, to create larger works I combine multiple pieces. I make each of these individually rather than creating duplicates using a mould. These groups reflect the build-up of litter and waste.

Because of the different stages and techniques used in the process of creating each work, I often work on several pieces at once, building up the textures on the embellisher by blending scraps of different fabrics, adding key motifs like the shells using a combination of free motion and hand embroidery, then stitching into the waste plastic moulds. Once I have a quantity ready to cast, I will make the trip to the studio where I cast them with concrete.

Relax and let existing textiles do the heavy lifting. Use what you have. Be inspired by it. Let it bring colour and texture rather than feeling that you have to create everything from scratch.

Staying with the basics

I have sewn since school, making clothes including the dress for my leavers’ dance (aka ‘prom’) but apart from the odd school project (Mum still has the name sampler I made then), I didn’t do much embroidery and would still not really call myself an embroiderer as I only use a small number of basic stitches.

You can achieve so much with even just a straight stitch.

I teach a wide range of workshops: single sessions making both useful and decorative things out of recycled fabrics but also longer courses on the basics of machine sewing or developing a piece of textile art using a series of different processes and techniques. I highlight that you don’t need to know lots of complicated stitches.

The biggest challenge for me as a textile artist is identity. I was surprised (and honoured) when I was approached to lead a workshop for TextileArtist.org’s Stitch Club as I don’t fit traditional notions of textile art and techniques. 

At the same time, textile art struggles in the field of fine art especially. Textile art is often seen as craft, as women’s work, domestic and lower in status. A painting of equal size will sell for far more although the textile piece is likely to have taken much longer to create. People are not sure how to display and care for textile art and assume that it won’t last so it isn’t an investment. Although I think there has been a move forward recently in contemporary textiles there is still a long way to go.

Reaching out

Making art is generally a solitary task so I find being a member of groups really important. I belong to several, which bring different benefits of support, tips, networking and exhibition opportunities but have also led to some fabulous new friendships. I don’t only belong to textiles groups; Design-Nation covers all types of craft and supports the more commercial side of my work. As sustainability is a key aspect of my practice, particularly thematically within my mixed media work, I also belong to a couple of groups for environmental artists – one local and one international.

Key takeaways

Nerissa’s unique way of working with textiles is underpinned by experimentation and sampling. Here are more tips for you to explore.

• Nerissa is driven by her concern over the plastic waste overwhelming our natural world. What are you passionate about? How could you bring that into your work either as a material or concept? 

• Next time you are doing a clear out take a moment to consider its potential, like Nerissa. Let the found item inspire you – it might be the colour, texture or something else. See where it takes you.

• Nerissa’s initial foray into using concrete was due to her desire to use up a bag she had leftover from a building project. What unusual materials do you have lying around that you could explore in your work?

Nerissa Cargill Thompson is a visual and community artist based in Manchester. After training and working in Theatre Design, she completed a MA in Textile Practice. She is a member of Prism Contemporary Textiles Collective, the Society for Embroidered Work (S.E.W.) and Design-Nation.

Nerissa exhibits regularly. In 2020 No Man is an Island – Mapping the Issue was shortlisted for the Fine Art Textiles Award. She won second prize in the Sustainability First Art Award in 2021 and winner of the inaugural Comme Ca/AWOL Open in 2022. In 2022, she was commissioned by Fylde Council to create a series of artworks to form an art trail highlighting plastic pollution on their coast.

Artist website: nerissact.co.uk   

Facebook: facebook.com/nerissact

Instagram: @nerissact

Discover the work of two textile artists who, like Nerissa, are passionate about the environment. Rachael Wellisch makes textile art in indigo from salvaged fabrics and Russian artist Natalya Khorover has researched the causes of climate change and its impact on the planet and uses plastic to make a statement about its threat to the environment.

What unusual found objects have you used in your work? We’d love to hear what it was and how it turned out – and share an image if you can.

At the heart of Jennifer Collier’s work is a love of experimentation as she explores what is possible – and what is not. As a student she worked with materials such as orange peel, jelly tots and other edible items; now she mines the pages of books and scours charity shops and flea markets for pre-loved printed ephemera to feature in her work.

Her love of literature has always been a pull, and pursuing this interest led her to focus exclusively on working with paper. She spends hours painstakingly recreating household objects as 3D sculptures by manipulating and stitching paper, the latter often having a story of its own to contribute. 

It’s not just discarded ephemera that she rescues. Jennifer has a passion for resurrecting heritage hand stitches. She explains that taking the time to master and then repurpose a stitch to use with paper is also about making sure that an important part of our textile heritage is not lost but, instead, is kept alive.

Her artworks are the result of many hours and much head scratching. She freely admits that half of what she creates ends up in the bin, but also that the other half wouldn’t happen without these mistakes – or the occasional happy accident. This willingness to experiment allows her to innovate techniques that make her work unique. It’s also an attitude that has helped her overcome her fears and say yes to opportunities, which have pushed her practice in new and unexpected directions.

Inspiration between the lines

Jennifer Collier: My go-to inspiration is always literature. When I started out with textile work, I was always trying to emulate the qualities of books and paper, which is why they became the material as well as the inspiration for my making. It might be a certain text, quote or even a book cover that sparks ideas for me.

My current practice focuses on creating work from paper. I produce unusual paper ‘fabrics’ which are used to explore the ‘remaking’ of household objects. There were a number of years when my work straddled paper and textiles but I found there were too many options and possibilities. 

By limiting my medium to paper it is much less overwhelming. Now I feel my work is more coherent and I don’t risk getting side-tracked.

I source the papers by scouring charity shops and flea markets, then I find a way in which they can be re-used and transformed, giving new life to things that would otherwise go unloved or be thrown away. I enjoy nothing more than finding a recipe book splattered with food stains or a book that a child has loved enough to take the time to colour in the illustrations – these are things that others may throw away, but I can save from landfill and transform into something beautiful. Although sometimes I may have the papers for years before I am brave enough to use them or have decided their function.

The papers are treated as if cloth and the main technique employed is stitch, a contemporary twist on traditional textiles. I use both hand and machine stitch in my work, and where possible try to use traditional embroidery techniques. The papers are rarely treated in any way. Although some of the shoes are formed over a mould, using a moulding medium. Through years of practice you get a feel for how far you can push the paper and when it is going to tear, as well as which papers work best for what job.

The papers themselves serve as both the inspiration and the medium for my work, with the narrative of the books and papers suggesting the forms. For example, a sewing machine made from dress-making patterns, or a camera out of vintage photographs.

A contemporary twist rooted in tradition

My way of working is still based on the processes of my textiles training and past work. The stilettos and brogues are made from a flat template I’ve designed and then constructed into a three-dimensional shoe shape, and the ballet slippers are hand-stitched to form the shape. I make all my own patterns, templates and moulds, so all the shapes are my design and therefore unique to me.

The trickiest part of my practice is devising templates so the piece can be repeated. I make exact measurements of an existing object to the millimetre and work out the pattern pieces for every component part of the object I am making. 

Once I’ve made the template I make a test piece – the equivalent of making a toile in dress-making, to check that the pattern ‘works’ (which it rarely does first time) – and from this, I problem solve and refine the pattern until it fits together exactly. This can sometimes take weeks. Once the pattern is resolved and the template made, I can make the ‘real’ piece from my gorgeous recycled papers.

Although slow, this process is invaluable. I’m often asked to create pieces of work based on different objects – cameras or shoes or sometimes even boats, however, the research and development time necessary to create the templates can make the finished commission quite expensive. Instead, I now offer work to commission using papers of the customer’s choice to make the commissioning process viable.

Experiment to innovate

Don’t be afraid to have happy accidents and spend time playing with materials, as this is when you discover something truly unique.

When I was studying I started experimenting with different materials, weaving with orange peel, melting fruit bags – all manner of things my tutors did not approve of. I believe the best way to learn is by not being afraid to make mistakes, this way you allow yourself to have happy accidents. My degree show was a collection of six 8ft dresses made out of fruit and fabric, with a pair of shoes accompanying each dress.

All of the techniques I use in my work now are things I have taught myself since graduating, by experimenting with different media and techniques.

Probably more than half of my work never sees the light of day, but through the other half I have discovered techniques unique to my work.

Embracing the unexpected

A turning point for me was meeting renowned textile artist Amanda Clayton, who was my tutor on my foundation art course; I honestly believe that if it were not for her I would never have developed a love for stitch (or be brave enough to ‘drive’ a sewing machine). 

Until that point, all I had ever seen and learnt was painting and drawing, as back then this was all that was offered in school. Luckily I met Mandy and she showed me the many facets of textiles and what they could be and she was always very patient, no matter how many needles I snapped.

Another pivotal moment for me arose out of adversity. Several years ago I had a massive problem with plagiarism. It suddenly felt that everyone was starting to make little dresses and shoes. I felt very frustrated that I had blazed an unconventional trail – I had been part of a movement that had made unwearable art items the norm – and now many others were making work just like mine.  

One day I realised I would just have to push my practice in a new direction and start making work that was so intricate and complex people wouldn’t be able to copy it. This is what has pushed my practice to the stage it is now – making stitched 3D paper sculptures that are exact replicas of the original.

In hindsight, the plagiarism has been a useful spur to drive me on to make even better work with amazing attention to detail and most importantly, with integrity and my own artistic voice. There is no point making work like someone else’s, you should strive to make work that is your own – innovate, don’t imitate. Be patient – finding your artistic voice takes time.

I feel the most important thing is to learn a new skill and then to push it forward and make it your own.

Lost, found and reinvented

I am really interested in translating ‘lost stitches’ for use on paper. By lost stitches I mean heritage stitches that have become redundant, mainly due to being quicker to do on a sewing machine. For example, the picot stitch I use is a detached buttonhole stitch, which originally used to be a decorative button loop at the top of a garment.

I like to learn a stitch and then take the time to translate it for use on paper. It’s quite a slow process, first to master the stitch and then translate it so it can be used without the paper tearing. Because of this, I tend to stick to the few I have perfected but I want to find time to learn more and I’m particularly interested in decorative edging stitches.

Being dyslexic I struggle to learn by following instructions and diagrams in books. However, when I’m teaching in workshops people will often share their favourite stitches too, so it becomes a learning experience for everyone, including me.

Unfortunately, I think the ability to sew is already being lost thanks to fast fashion. There will be a whole generation who cannot do simple repairs, resulting in garments ending up in landfill.

Mending is an important life skill but, more than that, if these rarely-used heritage stitches are not taught and kept alive, an important part of our cultural heritage will be lost along with them.

The dream vs the reality

When I started out I had such romantic visions of sitting sewing all day. I am juggling quite a lot as part of my ‘portfolio career’ – making to commission and fulfilling orders, creating work to sell whilst trying new ideas, running workshops and giving talks, taking part in exhibitions and public art commissions, residencies and all the massive demands of running a gallery – and then there is the admin! Unfortunately, It’s always the making of new work and developing new ideas that end up at the bottom of the list although I always vow to make more time for this.

It’s very hard to turn down paid work and I struggle to fit everything in. Some things that I really hate like book-keeping, tax returns, producing publicity material and updating the website are done by Print Garage, which is run by my life and business partner. However, there are things such as updating social media that I still want to do myself and I probably spend an average of two hours a day just replying to emails. Luckily I’ve got to the stage where I only undertake the workshops I enjoy.

I don’t have a standard week as it really depends on what I’m working on but as a rule, due to my gallery’s opening hours, Thursdays and Fridays are nearly always making days in the studio, and Monday inevitably ends up being an ‘admin and catching-up-on-emails’ day.
Saying all that, there is no better job in the world, and no bigger compliment than somebody wishing to buy a piece of your work, no matter how small, so making always wins as my favourite thing to do. I don’t make just because I want to, or even as a way of earning an income: I make because I simply have to. I adore making, and always find time to fit this into my day as it is the bit of my job I love and couldn’t live without.

By introducing hand sewing into my practice, I can always carry work with me in my bag whether I’m taking my son to a swimming lesson or just sewing in front of the TV. Making calms my mind, nourishes my soul and takes me to my happy place.

Out of the comfort zone

I always used to be someone who said no to opportunities if I didn’t think I could do them. However, over time and with the wisdom of age, I have learnt that by taking these things on, I am pushing my practice and learning new ways of making.

I have been really lucky to have done eight National Trust commissions in six different properties to date, and I’ve also undertaken public art commissions in libraries, heritage sites and even a couple outdoors.

In 2018 I was asked to make First World War observation balloons by an NT property I had previously worked with, Packwood House in Solihull, where I had dressed the whole of the property for ‘The Theatre of Christmas’. I produced a site specific commission of 13 lit paper lampshade ‘trees’, made up of 50 stitched paper lampshades constructed from archive papers, maps and site specific papers.

This involved working with staff and volunteers to make over 400 paper decorations and 400 paper flowers, as well as many other paper decorations throughout the property. So when they asked me to work with them again to make First World War observation balloons created from copies of the donor families’ war diaries I jumped at the chance.

I must admit I had assumed observation balloons were like hot air balloons but they are more the shape of Zeppelins and made from silk. I recreated these to scale from stitched paper, even down to the basket underneath. As I’d done lighting for this property before, part of the brief was to make ‘Elliptical’ light shades for their visitor reception, to give a clue as to the work displayed inside the property, and this is how my range of ‘Lozenge’ paper light shades came into being.

The past inspires the future

Although I usually spend the early part of the year focusing on forward planning I’ve learnt not to overthink it and trust that exciting projects and opportunities will come my way. They are just quite hard to control.

I am making a second piece of work for an exhibition in Canada commemorating the 100th anniversary of Canada’s 1923 Chinese Exclusion Act, hosted by the Chinese Canadian Museum in the historic Wing Sang building in the heart of Vancouver’s Chinatown. I am also working on another National Trust commission, which will be my ninth. This is a property I have done two site-specific commissions for previously.

I have no idea what direction my work will take in the future and that is the really exciting bit.

Key takeaways

Discovering your own artistic voice takes time, patience and a spirit of curiosity.

• Is there a particular material or media you love? Jennifer’s love of books inspired her to experiment with stitching on paper, even though it’s not a traditional textile medium. What other interests do you have that might inspire your stitching?

• You can learn a lot from looking at an artist’s work, but even more from their process. Jennifer decided to push her work in new directions during a challenging time. She became ambitious, scaling up the detail and complexity of her work. Do you dare to dream big? Have you thought about a long-term vision or goal for your textile art? 

• On being questioned on his ‘failures’ while inventing the light bulb, Thomas Edison reportedly said: ‘I have not failed. The lightbulb was an invention with 1,000 steps.’ Jennifer has a similar approach towards making her artwork – even if it results in much of it being discarded. What if you approached your ‘mistakes’ simply as steps along the path – how would that affect your practice and move it forward?

Jennifer Collier completed a BA (Hons) in Textiles (Print, Knit and Weave) at Manchester Metropolitan University in 1999. She exhibits internationally and has had work stocked by galleries such as the Museum of Art and Design, New York, Liberty London and the Victoria & Albert Museum, London. Jennifer has worked on many private and public arts commissions, most notably for the National Trust. In 2010 Jennifer founded Unit Twelve Gallery in Stafford, a contemporary craft exhibition, art workshop and studio space, which is home to six artists’ studio spaces.

Website: jennifercollier.co.uk

Facebook: facebook.com/paperjennifer

Instagram: @paperjennifer

Have you used paper as a medium in your work? We’d love to hear what you’ve learned so share your discoveries in the comments below.

Embroidery artist Yvette Phillips’ love of textiles has been a constant thread throughout her life. From playing with her granny’s sewing box and progressing to making her own clothes and soft furnishings, to collecting the vintage fabric that’s now integral to her work.

She’s also been captivated since childhood by the beauty of the birds and small mammals she sees around her. It is this, together with their rich symbolism that inspires her textiles. However, her work is just as much about the materials she uses.

Recycling and reducing waste is important to her, and so is imbuing her work with fragments of the past that would otherwise be lost forever. Yvette has no formal training in embroidery so she focuses on using a limited number of basic stitches well, and combines these with carefully chosen colours, patterns and textures sourced from her vast vintage fabric stash in the attic.  

Discover more about Yvette’s journey to becoming an embroidery and textile artist, as well as her inspiration, process and considerations when working with vintage materials. 

Follow what you love

Yvette Phillips: Growing up in rural Hampshire and Oxfordshire in the 1970s I developed a deep connection and fascination with nature, which continues to this day. 

As an artist I’m particularly inspired by the rich symbolism, as well as the beauty of small mammals and birds. These feature heavily in my work, which ranges from large textile collages to smaller, detailed hand embroideries on vintage fabrics. I deliberately try to buy as few new materials as possible, which is fairly easy as I only use vintage fabrics and mostly vintage threads in my work.

I make the art I do because I like it, rather than worrying about whether other people will do so too. Do what you enjoy and follow your obsessions, then I think that passion will come across in your work.

I’m usually drawn to birds found locally such as the kingfisher, heron and little egret that are seen on the stream at the front of my house. But sometimes the instinctive need for more colour pulls me further afield. For example, the Lilac-Breasted Roller is a technicolour dream bird from Africa, which I embroidered for the sheer fun of working with colours I rarely use.

I do it my way

Embroidery artists should feel free to develop their own style and adapt techniques they’ve learnt to suit this, just like an artist working in paint or pencil.

I don’t thread paint in the technically correct way but that’s ok. While technically perfect embroidery is beautiful to marvel at, I love being able to identify the work of a textile artist solely by their distinctive style.

I do recommend trying new things but don’t feel like you have to master everything. I feel more confident using fewer basic stitches well, than having an enormous repertoire of fancy ones.  Having said that, I’m in awe of people who can do those fancy stitches and would love to have some of their talent. However, I struggle with following complicated stitch instructions – not helped by being left-handed.

My challenge is to be less of a perfectionist. My stitching does look neat but that is my style – I paint and draw in the same way. To foster spontaneity, apart from keeping a loose colour palette in mind, I rarely plan the colours I’m going to use in advance.

I stitch like I paint. If something doesn’t work I paint over it, and I will often alter colours by over stitching rather than unpicking stitches.

Drawing out inspiration

I live and work from home in the village of Blewbury in Oxfordshire. I don’t have a dedicated studio. Instead, I’ve taken over a large area at the back of the house that overlooks our back garden and the village church. For a 1960s house it’s a pretty idyllic place to live and work. It was built on what used to be part of Kenneth Grahame’s orchard, author of the children’s classic, Wind in the Willows.

I always have a sketchbook and pencil close at hand. Not just for planning specific pieces of work but for general doodling of ideas and making notes.

Becoming really comfortable with drawing allows more ideas to flow – even if most of them may never be realised in stitch.

Planning a new piece of work always starts with lots of drawing. I work through various possibilities and elements of the design, until I’m ready to draw it to scale on tracing paper. I use a lot of tracing paper, especially for collages or where a picture has multiple appliqué elements. I use the tracing paper drawing to help position the fabric pieces correctly. 

My work ranges from small, fairly straightforward hand embroideries on vintage fabric, to more complex pictures with a mixture of detailed hand embroidery and appliqué, to very large textile collages, which can be over one metre (3ft). 

For the very large collages I machine stitch the fabric pieces in position. I try not to make the machine stitching too obvious as I prefer to allow the colours, patterns and shapes to shine. Whereas the hand-embroidered elements are all about seeing the details and texture of the stitching.

While I relish the freedom of machine-stitching and the different way of working it brings, nothing beats sitting down with a cup of tea, my cat Basil, the radio, and some hand embroidery. I simply love it.

It’s all about the fabric

The problem with vintage fabric is, if you fall in love with something, the knowledge that you might never come across more of it, makes it hard to resist! I have boxes and boxes of it in the loft – more than I could ever use. Of course, that doesn’t stop me from wanting more – it’s definitely an addiction that I find difficult to resist. 

I deliberately buy as few new materials as possible and only when I really need to, for example needles, calico and stretcher bars which I mount my work on. I try not to buy any vintage fabric but when I do, my main source is eBay. 

I mostly limit myself now to looking for plain vintage silks, which are great for stitching on. I’m also very partial to mid-century painterly abstract designs, which are brilliant for collage. Apart from eBay, I occasionally pick up vintage curtains from antique shops or have pieces gifted to me. 

Vintage fabrics may need a gentle wash before using. Also due to the production methods used, they may be prone to fading (although this is also the case for many artist mediums and contemporary fabrics).  

I frame and glaze my finished pieces to protect them as much as possible and use ultraviolet (UV) protected glazing when I can. I always advise buyers of my work not to hang the piece in direct sunlight.

Threads of influence

I have no formal training in embroidery but I can trace my love of sewing and textiles back to childhood holidays visiting my grandparents on the Isle of Wight. My favourite pastime was going through my granny’s sewing box and being encouraged to experiment with the contents.  Sewing has been a constant in my life in one form or another since then – from making my own clothes in my teens and twenties, to soft furnishings and collecting vintage fabrics as an adult.  

My mother Susan Phillips McMeekin was and still is, a huge influence on me. She’s always been extremely encouraging of my own artistic path. She was a student at the Royal College of Art (RCA) in the 1960s before going on to have an illustrious career as a goldsmith designer. Most of her design work was secret due to the clientele but some of her designs are held by the Victoria & Albert Museum. 

I did a mixed media degree at DeMontfort University. After an initial foundation year of studying various disciplines, I specialised in printmaking. It was then I began using a lot of collage and also machine stitching into my work – techniques that I still use today.

While studying I was very influenced by the artist Richard Shirley-Smith who once lived in Blewbury. His work has a surreal, dream-like quality that I love and that inspired my printmaking and collage work. He also painted beautiful murals, something that I did myself for about a year after finishing my degree. 

In my twenties, I spent a year studying for an interior design diploma. While this made me realise I did not want to be an interior designer it did reinforce my love of textiles. 

My work is a result of this lifelong love of textiles and sewing, plus my art school education.

A pivotal portrait

After a period working in the music industry as product and production manager for the band Oasis, I eventually returned to my artistic roots after my children were born. A turning point was the day I made a textile collage of my four-year-old daughter. 

I’d been collecting vintage textiles for a while at that point and was making and selling soft furnishings, as that was something I could work around having small children. Although I used to draw my son when he was little, when it came to my daughter I suddenly had the idea of making her portrait using some beautiful vintage fabric I had in front of me.  

It was a simple silhouette of her head surrounded by flowers and foliage from vintage fabrics. I was unstoppable after that. All the creativity that I’d somehow been suppressing came flooding back, and things just developed from there.

It all came so naturally that I kicked myself for not starting down that path sooner. But I only regained the headspace and my sense of self enough to do so once my children had reached a certain age. Something many women might identify with.

Making connections

Every year I exhibit at Oxfordshire Artweeks. This is the UK’s oldest and biggest artist open studios and pop-up exhibition event. It is a brilliant and supportive platform for exhibiting locally and I am a volunteer area coordinator. 

Because my work is so slow to produce it’s frustrating that I’m not able to exhibit more often but I also try to submit individual pieces to various exhibitions.

Visitors always love a peek into the thought processes behind the work so I always have some of my sketchbooks with me when I exhibit. 

Usually, one or two lovely people turn up with donations of vintage fabric and threads, often inherited. I love hearing their stories about where it’s come from and the fact that they’ve thought of me and my art. It means a lot that someone has gifted me something that belonged to their mother or grandmother and that they really can’t bear to throw away. I love the chance to give it a new lease of life.

There’s something about textiles that is so comforting.  We are surrounded and cocooned by them, in the form of clothes, curtains, cushions etc, so it’s easy to take them for granted.

Textiles have the power to trigger memories and emotions, and that’s a real draw for me. They connect us with places such as homes we’ve lived in, clothes we once wore, or someone special who is no longer with us.

Key takeaways

There is no ‘right way’ to creating a piece of work or becoming a textile artist. You certainly don’t need to master a vast array of techniques and fancy stitches. Becoming any kind of artist is all about using and adapting techniques so that they work for you and what you want to express.

• Focus on getting to grips with just a few simple stitches and experiment to discover their full potential. 

• Experiment with doodling to explore ideas. Drawing helps us access different parts of the brain and so we can gain insight into things that we don’t know at a verbal level. 

• Explore what you love. Whether you are interested in particular colours, materials or subject matter, your passion will shine through and that is what others will connect with.

Artist biography

Yvette Phillips is a British textile artist living and working in Blewbury in Oxfordshire. She is a member of the Oxford Art Society, the Society for Embroidered Work, the Embroiderers’ Guild, and Modern Makers Collective.

Website: yvettephillipsart.com
Instagram: @yvettephillips_art

Yvette Phillips isn’t the only textile artist captivated by birds! Be inspired by the very different techniques five textile artists use to depict our feathered friends in fabric and stitch.

We’d love to see how you have been inspired by birds and the natural world. Share your work in the comments below.

The climate crisis is being called the greatest threat the world has ever faced. But instead of being overwhelmed by the scale of the problem, textile artist Chloe Patience has taken up the cause, one recycled bead at a time.

Chloe is passionate about the environment and transforms this into action by raiding the scrap bag, searching out secondhand beads and discarded jewellery, and even repurposing old packaging in her quest to work more sustainably. 

Inspired by the natural world she loves, she combines these unconventional materials with traditional stitches to create rich, multi-layered pieces, often in 3D. Read on and discover Chloe’s advice for cultivating creative curiosity, as well as strategies for overcoming creator’s block, and juggling work with the demands of family life.

A magical, other-worldly aesthetic

Chloe Patience: I work mostly on commissions and to project briefs, so my inspiration can change and take many different forms. Personally, I’m drawn to nature, particularly florals, rocks and crystals and sea life, as well as reflective and mirrored patterns, like those seen in a kaleidoscope, for example. I love using imagery such as these because they provide so much colour and texture that can be converted into embroidery and embellishment very effectively.

In 2007 I co-founded the award-winning luxury fashion label Bebaroque. Our high-end embroidered hosiery and bodywear was stocked by shops such as Harrods and Liberty’s of London. 

Our design ethos consisted of highly decorative embellishment upon soft sheer fabrics, which enabled us to capture our magical, other-worldly aesthetic.

Bebaroque’s designs were a popular choice both on and off-stage for many artists including Beyoncé, Lady Gaga and Katy Perry.

The label’s designs were celebrated within the industry through vast exposure online and editorial features in magazines such as Italian, China and UK Vogue, Elle, Cosmopolitan and many more.

Cultivating creative curiosity

I love to make three-dimensional embroidery effects with stitch and use many traditional techniques to achieve this such as stumpwork, turkey work, French knots and 3D beading. 

I try to use these traditional and contemporary techniques and effects creatively to make them unique to me.

I like to build and layer my effects, for example, using satin stitch first and then using other techniques or elements over the top to create interesting textures and depth. I might experiment with colour using contemporary tones or unconventional materials.

I recommend trying new stitch techniques and continuing to think and develop creatively. 

Keep asking yourself questions. How could you be more sustainable?  Could you cut your own embellishments or perhaps deconstruct an old woolly jumper and use the yarn? Or maybe cover a hole or stain on a piece of clothing with a piece of embroidery. What else could you do?

Bringing beasties to life

My favourite project was the Missing Chair with Nobody & Co and Timorous Beasties. The aim of the project was to create printed and embroidered sleeves for a very minimal and structural chair. The idea was that the ‘Missing Chair’ had been left in the forest for some time and would be discovered again with vines, leaves and flowers growing up and around the legs and arms of the chair and inhabited with insects.

As the embroidery designer, my role was to add to and adapt the Timorous Beastie prints into three-dimensional, free-standing pieces. I wanted to bring movement and life to the designs. I used multiple techniques to achieve this including stumpwork, turkey work and trapunto. I also used lots of satin stitch, combining different threads and raffia, and I cut and manipulated sheer fabrics to enhance the florals.

The finished designs were launched at Milan Design Week in 2017 and 2018 and were showcased in Elle Decor and Living Magazine Italia.

Upcycling for sustainable bling

It is possible to create contemporary, polished and luxurious effects using second-hand or recycled materials and elements.

I’m conscious that the textile industry plays a large part in contributing to climate change. In recent years I have been involved in projects with the V&A Dundee, Scotland’s design museum, promoting sustainable approaches to fashion and textile design. 

Working on such projects allows me to work mindfully and creatively, as well as raise awareness of the climate crisis. Increasingly, I like to use old scrap fabrics, secondhand beads, old jewellery and packaging to create my own beads and embellishments to incorporate into my work.

In the studio

Sketchbooks are a great way of capturing ideas and discovering and developing compositions and artworks, which can then be developed further.

While studying, I would start by creating observational drawings, as well as artworks from inspiration. I used these as a basis for my embroideries. I created sketchbooks where I could draw and sketch and collect anything that inspired me.

As I have progressed professionally, I tend to work more loosely and I draw less from observation due to a lack of time. I collect inspirational materials, drawings, tracings and printouts to develop my ideas before I begin stitching.

Being a perfectionist in my design work I often put undue pressure on myself to create something really special. This means I sometimes hit a creative block when working on a particular project, which can be really frustrating.

When I’m stuck I have learned that taking a break and doing something completely different always helps, such as taking a walk, exercising or indeed anything else, and then coming back to it refreshed.

I’ve also learned that if something really isn’t working, there’s no point in punishing yourself or wasting precious time. Just put it down to experience and start again.

Complementary threads

Growing up within a creative family, I always had an avid interest in art and design. Although initially I thought I would pursue a career in fashion, I soon discovered a love of textiles in my initial studies. The two are so intertwined that I knew that I could always create fashion through textiles – which is exactly what I did with our luxury fashion label Bebaroque. 

In 2015, I relaunched myself as a design consultant offering unique hand embroidery services to other companies and labels within interiors and fashion, such as Timorous Beasties, Nobody & Co, Bluebellgray, Wolford and Harvey Nichols Edinburgh. I also run adult learning courses and workshops working with world renowned institutions including the V&A Dundee and National Galleries of Scotland.

Making the most of me time

I’m a mum of two young girls and I work part-time as well as having my creative projects, so I’m always juggling. I wish I had the secret to planning and scheduling my time perfectly, but it’s hard work and can be stressful. However, I love my precious creative work time and try to enjoy it as much as I can.

I recommend trying to carve out a little bit of time whenever possible, as close work such as embroidery can relax and focus your mind in times of stress.

I have also recently enrolled in further studies doing a post graduate diploma with a focus on Textiles Design so my schedule is even more hectic than usual. Although this means I have had to pull back on my creative work for the next few months, I am excited about the future and how I can develop creatively and professionally.

Key takeaways

You, too, can bring traditional techniques into the 21st century by using them creatively and giving them a contemporary twist. Here’s how…

• ‘What if …?’ is a great question to ask about materials and techniques and then experiment and see what happens.

• Explore reusing and repurposing materials. As well as working more sustainably, mixing traditional techniques with unexpected materials can bring interest to your work. 

• To create depth, combine different materials and thicknesses, and layer stitches and techniques. 

• Explore using different colourways to bring a contemporary feel to traditional stitches.

Artist biography

Chloe Patience is a Scottish textile designer living and working in Edinburgh. Chloe studied Textiles at the Glasgow School of Art before completing a Masters in Design at the Edinburgh College of Art. She has over 15 years’ experience of working within the design industry, creating opulent hand-embroidery services to companies and labels within interiors and fashion.

Website: chloepatience.com
Instagram: @chloepatienceembroidery

Anything goes, as far as textile artist Jessica Grady is concerned when she’s looking for materials to embellish her work.

Discover how she re-uses throwaway materials to bring colour and texture to her work, as well as raise awareness on the importance of zero waste and upcycling.

Have you reused or upcycled found objects and textiles in your work? Share how you are making textile art more sustainable and how it has impacted on your work, in the comments below.