Relying upon his 30-year career in fashion design, Adrian twists and contorts fabrics and trims to represent landscapes, sea goddesses, deadly sins and more. Tricky materials, such as silks, organza and polyesters, rise and fall in remarkable fashion. And his ‘fauxthers’? They’re the icing on the cake.

The fact Adrian largely uses recycled materials makes his portfolio even more special. Each piece is created from enormous amounts of fabrics and trims found at thrift stores and charity shops. 

Enjoy this look into Adrian’s world, where manipulation is truly an artistic virtue. 

Seductive transformation

Adrian Smith: I’d describe my work as ‘seduction’. Not in a sexual way, but more sensually. My work links my fashion experience with textile art in a way that directly appeals to people’s visual and tactile senses. 

I have an instinctual connection to textiles and their technical challenges. And I’m drawn to fiddly, time-consuming techniques, possibly because my previous design work focused on factory repetition of garments in a series. I felt a need to distance my art’s ‘intellectual’ inspiration from my fashion design work. 

Like many textile artists, I’m drawn to landscapes. I’m currently working on an ongoing series based on growing up in Orkney and experiencing its terrain, culture and folklore.

But past inspirations have been varied. For example, my first series, SALIGIA – The Seven Deadly Sins, explored the seductive nature of the sins and how almost all were sins of ego and individuality.

A series of stories

My Death Becomes Her series was inspired by a visit to the Roman catacombs along with the Jewelled Saints of Germany. The series was an interesting meeting of human vanity and the fear of death.

I choose to work in series to pinpoint a mood or message and focus my creativity in terms of direction and coherence. For me, the best source of direction comes from personal passions, interests and familiar obsessions. A personal story or fascination with a subject gives me a strong framework from which to work. 

Working in series also allows me to present evolutionary stories and further explore unique facets along the way. It can be quite an illuminating process of self-discovery, but it also requires discipline to know which elements are relevant and which are just momentary curiosities.

Fashion design foundations

I’ve always been fascinated by the way people dress and present themselves, so I suppose fashion was an inevitable destination for me. After graduating with a BA Hons in fashion and theatre from Edinburgh College of Art, I later studied for an MA in design from the Royal College of Art in London. Following this, I moved to Italy to start a 30-year career in the fashion industry. I designed for several high-level luxury brands, including Gucci and Prada. And I worked with contemporary classic brands like Les Copains (knitwear) and Ck Calvin Klein (tailoring and urban sportswear).

Most of my fabric manipulation techniques come from my fashion experience. I particularly remember seeing a vintage haute couture gown that I thought was made of tiny pleats. But after looking more closely, I discovered the pleats were actually tiny tubes of fabric couched onto a base. That was one of my first techniques and it’s one I still use a lot. 

I love gradient colour effects, so my layered transparency spaghetti-strap technique grew from that. And my fringe-plush technique came about from trying to recreate a fur effect for a piece inspired by the golden fleece. I had used fringe strips before, but I discovered that gathering them tightly created a rich, furry texture.

I also modified the fringe technique to create what I call ‘fauxthers’. I’d been asked to create some millinery with feathers for a fashion show in New York. I couldn’t bring real feathers through US customs, so I developed my faux feathers. I’ve been using them ever since. 

Cutting, sewing and turning the trims can be tedious, repetitive and irritating work. Beyond that, gathering and application of the trims to a base can be quite fiddly and frustrating. Patience is necessary, but I believe working slowly gives the final piece a special quality that makes the challenge worthwhile. 

“My techniques are deceptively simple and the trims I create don’t take any great skill, but they do take a lot of patience.”

Adrian Smith, Textile artist

Fabrics unleashed

I’m a great believer in re-purposing. As a designer, I’m very aware of how rare it is to find something that can have multiple purposes. But that’s a challenge I enjoy. Repurposing fabrics allows me to give them a new life, versus being discarded in a landfill or incinerated.

Thrift stores and charity shops are a huge resource. Many textile artists believe the answer to sustainability is using natural fibres, but my experience has taught me many of the processes of industrial production of linen, cotton and wool all have an environmental impact of some kind.

I tend to embrace most fabric types, including synthetics where they work. Each fabric brings a particular texture or lustre to a piece, and I especially enjoy the contrasts. 

I use a lot of silk effects in my work, but they’re usually polyester faux silk blends. Silk is my favourite material for texture, lustre and colour, but I rarely use virgin silk as it feels like a crime to cut it into strips.

Courageous colours

I love energetic colours. Fabric manipulation is all about transformation, and in my world, that extends to colour.

Vulgarity isn’t my intention, but I like the fact that some colours have a potential for that. Part of my attraction for intense colours is the way they function as an antidote to the all-pervasive ‘natural’ palette that runs through a lot of textile art.

Don’t get me wrong. I love natural tones and concepts, and I admire many textile artists who focus on them. But sometimes it’s just liberating to just take things (and myself) less seriously for a moment. To take a deep breath, and then jump!

Uplifting beauty

We’re currently going through a terrible moment in history. Appalling injustice, war and neo-barbarism are clear signals we’re slipping back on hard-won progress and evolution. I see everyone around me under a perpetually despondent cloud.

It’s important to be aware, but I feel artists and creatives can also help by presenting positive messages and reminders of our capacity for uplifting beauty. If an artist can’t do that, then nobody can. 

My Wilful Optimism series is created as a refusal to be changed or cowed by evil influence. It serves as hope and defiance in the face of sometimes overwhelming horror.

This work uses a lot of fabric. Over the years, I’ve gathered colours that somehow ‘sang’ to me, and I found a home for them in this project. Fabrics include silk, viscose and polyester that unapologetically show off their joyful colour and lustre.

I covered a circular stretcher canvas in the base colour, then I used foam supports and repurposed elements to create alternate receding and burgeoning levels. 

The high-relief base was covered with fringe techniques, and the halo around the outside features my fauxthers to suggest freedom and joy. Everything was then reinforced with floristry wire, cut to shape and attached to a base panel. 

Swirling waves & quilling

I grew up on a small rural island in Orkney where much of the folklore is focused on the sea. My artwork Mither o’ the Sea references the great spirit that controls the sea in summer. She’s in eternal conflict with Nuckelavee who rules the sea in winter.

The piece is mostly created in organza on a taffeta base. I used double-layer tube trims, and the wide range of gradient colours was created by layering transparent fabrics. Those were couched down on the taffeta base with a stab stitch following curved lines. 

Although it looks like folds and pleats, it’s more like a fabric version of quilling. That gives me complete control in making the trims double back on themselves to create interesting collisions between curved forms.

The centre of the piece is suggestive of a face but made from a swirling wave effect over a three-dimensional support.

Testing my patience

Totem sorely tested my patience with the need for endless preparation and application of miles and miles of fabric and gathered trims. It took almost two years to complete. 

It was created in response to an EDGE Textile Artists Scotland brief to interpret an element of one of Scotland’s long distance walking routes, the West Highland Way. For some time, I’d been wanting to create a free-standing sculptural piece, and this was my opportunity.

I’d found a steel wire lampshade with an ugly covering that had an interesting form. I removed the covering and began applying fringe-plush and frill trims in colours that reflected elements of the landscape stretching from the central belt to the Highlands.

Creating the piece became absurdly time-consuming, and I missed the EDGE deadline. But I decided to keep at it and expand it to represent Orkney’s landscape, seascape and skyscape.

I added three more sections and two conical end pieces to create a large spindle shape. The spindle references my textile past and present. And the title Totem suggests an iconic representation of identity and belonging. 

After completing the spindle, I realised I was missing a water element. So, I added a separate spinning whirlpool form below the spindle. The shape references the Great Swelkie whirlpool near Stroma in the Pentland Firth.

Totem incorporates pretty much all my fabric manipulation techniques. The fabrics include silk, viscose, cotton, wool, nylon and polyester. The organza in the upper extremity suggests clouds, while bias-cut spaghetti-strap applications at the bottom give the impression of dense rock strata.

Scotland has many wildflowers in magentas and purples, so that was also an important element. I found an Indian silk sari top in a perfect magenta. I took it apart and used every scrap I could. Nonetheless, the entire amount only covered about an inch and a half of the spindle, and that was only because it was mixed with green!

Sharing my techniques

I’m excited to introduce Stitch Club members to my fabric transformation techniques, perhaps bringing a new element into their vocabulary. And I’m curious to see how they might use the techniques to add extra dimension to their work. 

They’ll learn how to take a fabric surface from low- to high-relief, perhaps even into a sculptural dimension. The process takes time, and I encourage members to persist. The techniques need patience and can be frustrating, but I can guarantee the results are immensely satisfying. 

“I think that the re-evaluation of textile art’s credibility for artistic expression comes as a result of the many artists who have harnessed social media for self-promotion and communication.” 

Adrian Smith

Thoughts on social media

I understand people’s valid frustrations with social media. But as a creative today, I think it presents a very rare opportunity to directly engage with an audience and no (overt) gatekeepers. 

I also think that the re-evaluation of textile art’s credibility for artistic expression comes as a result of the many artists who have harnessed social media for self-promotion and communication. 

We’re no longer solely dependent on convincing a gallery owner or curator to publicise our work.

My focus is on Instagram, and I’ve learned some key lessons along the way. First, because it can take a long time to create a textile work, I’ve discovered that sharing different stages of my work process appeals to viewers. People love road movies. If you just show them the destination, they miss out on the adventure.

I also try to not take criticism too personally unless it strikes a chord with something I’ve already asked myself. 

Lastly, I try to be patient and focus on those who generally appreciate my work. There is absolutely nothing wrong with having just a few likes for a post. You can’t please everyone. 

Julia is captivated by nature’s fine print like the lines, textures and colours that whisper rather than shout. She doesn’t just observe, she experiences and records moments that become visual echoes of time and place.

From that first spark of observation, her process flows intuitively. And her materials lead the way. Discover how Julia wraps, binds, sculpts and embroiders recycled frayed and worn fabrics full of history, creating tactile memories of place.

Julia Wright: I create textural, hand stitched mixed media textiles inspired by close-up details found in nature, landscapes and coastal environments.

My inspiration includes the cracks in pavements and walls, random lichen growth in fallen trees, barnacles settled in the crevices of sea cliffs, seed pods, tree roots, seaweed and shells. I find the resilience, seasonal growth and perpetuation seen in nature uplifting. 

Sustainability is at the heart of my work. It’s in the materials I use and the inspiration behind my ideas. I would encourage everyone to re-purpose existing fabrics, as they have such richness and can be inspiring in themselves. 

“It’s liberating to allow yourself to be guided by what’s available. It sparks creativity.”

Julia Wright, Mixed media textile artist

An expression of place

I don’t plan my work in the traditional sense; my pieces grow organically. I take photos wherever I go, mostly extreme close-ups of texture, surface, colour and line. 

I always carry a small handmade concertina sketchbook with me, usually no more than 10cm (4″) wide when folded, to capture things I notice in the world around me. These sketchbooks are more than just drawings. They hold moments, memories and a deep sense of place. I can remember exactly where I was and how I felt when I made each one. 

These sketchbooks and photographs are my starting points. I usually begin with a loose idea, perhaps a colour palette or a certain kind of shape, often based on the materials I have at hand. I start by making a series of wraps, which help me determine the direction of the piece. 

I typically work on a backing fabric without an embroidery hoop. I prefer the way the fabric distorts and moves naturally as I stitch, letting the surface develop its own rhythm. 

I begin by tightly hand stitching a single wrap onto the fabric. That first mark guides where the next will go. It’s an intentionally slow, mindful process.

I aim to create a focal point in each piece, sometimes through fine detail, sometimes with a bold pop of colour or strong directional lines. 

“Each artwork is a tactile map of experience – it’s a layered expression of both landscape and memory.”

Julia Wright, Mixed media textile artist

Sustainability driven

“The unpredictability of working with recycled fabrics excites me.” 

Julia Wright, Mixed media textile artist

Sustainability is central to my practice. I aim to keep textiles out of landfills by avoiding new fabrics wherever possible. I like to breathe new life into materials that might otherwise be discarded. 

I focus on using recycled and secondhand fabrics, sourced from charity shops, vintage textile fairs, and recycling centres, as well as donated materials. I value the sense of spontaneity this brings to the creative process.

I primarily work with natural fibres like cotton, linen and silk. I like the fact that I can dye them to match my desired colour palette. I enjoy the contrasts between their different densities, textures and surface qualities, from the rough to the fine and delicate.

Using up leftovers

In my Stitch Club workshop, I share ways to interpret elements within the landscape to stimulate ideas for composition. I encourage the use of recycling off-cuts of fabrics, found materials and threads left over from previous projects. 

Using an inspirational photograph as a starting point, I show members how to create a series of textural wraps hand couched onto a backing fabric. 

Inspired by materials

I always recommend beginning by gathering a selection of fabrics that inspire you. I suggest creating a resource pack, grouping fabrics and threads by colours that complement one another. 

Pay attention to textures, surface qualities, and varying weights. I find that smaller pieces, strips, and irregular shapes are particularly engaging, as they feel less overwhelming than large, uncut fabrics. 

I also favour working with worn materials, searching out frayed hems, seams and sections with holes as they often ignite new ideas and creative possibilities.

It’s a good idea to start by making small-scale pieces. Avoid the temptation to dive into a large project, as this can be discouraging and it’s easy to lose interest or momentum.

“A smaller, focused section, completed with attention to detail and technique, can be most satisfying.”

Julia Wright, Mixed media textile artist

Creative genes

I feel fortunate to have grown up in a family of creatives. My dad studied tapestry weaving at university and was an art teacher, photographer and accomplished painter. He continued his practice through most of his life. 

My mum was a professional dressmaker and always made our home furnishings. She also built furniture, put up shelves and made jewellery.  

Because of them, I’ve always considered being practical and hands-on as normal. We were always surrounded by art materials so drawing and painting were just something we did all the time. I can’t remember not being able to knit and sew.

All the women in my family were dressmakers and knitters. Many of my childhood clothes were handmade and I have fond memories of being sent knitted mittens by an aunt when I moved to Scotland for university as she was worried I’d be cold. 

My family fully supported me when I studied for a degree in Applied Design at Edinburgh College of Art. At university my work was sculptural and very large scale. I worked in clay and glass initially, then wood carving and jewellery-making. 

I was conscious of making the most of every opportunity. I had access to the best tutors, technicians and facilities and had a big studio space which I knew would be hard to find after graduation. 

However, outside my studies, I worked in textiles as they were so accessible. Fabrics and threads were readily available and easy to use at home. 

Inspired travel

Once I left university, I headed off travelling around the world. My initial ‘year abroad’ became seven years, on and off, including a couple of years living in Japan. 

Fabrics and threads were easy to transport and source whilst travelling so my practice naturally focused more on working in textiles. 

I recently moved into a big studio close to home so my work is developing into larger scale, sculptural textile pieces which is hugely exciting. The possibilities of working in fabrics and threads seem endless to me. Their malleability has no limit.

I am fortunate to be able to still travel and over the past few years have delivered workshops around the UK and in Europe and Australia with more planned in the future. 

Drawing, photographing and responding to different landscapes on my travels as well as working with whatever materials are available in different locations continue to capture my imagination. 

Responding to nature

My work features in a gallery space at The Knit and Stitch Show in Harrogate in November 2025, alongside the work of my friends Bev Caleno and Bryony Jennings. 

As the Wild Art Textiles Collective we are presenting a themed exhibition called ‘Strand Lines’, responding to the British coastline.  I have visited this show for many years and it’s an event I look forward to the most each year. 

I am most proud of the invitations I have received to exhibit my sculptural work, jewellery and textiles in prestigious galleries in the UK and Australia. 

I have also had my work featured in a couple of books. A Camouflage of Specimens and Garments by Jennifer Militello, (Tupello Press, 2016) and the forthcoming book, Contemporary Artists, Fibre and More by Charlotte Vannier (Editions Pyramid). I feel hugely grateful to have had these opportunities to have my work seen alongside artists, designers and makers whom I admire.

Dutch artist Mirjam had been put off textiles at school by critical teachers who insisted on following ‘the rules’. Even her own family taught her that there was a right and a wrong way to do embroidery. Instead, she became a children’s author. But, she was still intrigued with embroidery, and so her evenings were turned to experimenting with stitch, texture and pattern. 

Today, her nature-inspired crochet, felt works and embroideries – many worked on her own eco dyed and printed cloth – have led to large followings on Instagram, Etsy and Patreon, where she shares her knowledge via e-books and tutorials. 

Mirjam told us how the seasons are her inspiration, and that seeing Sue Stone tie a knot in her thread was the epiphany that freed her from decades of embroidery restrictions.

Creating with joy

Mirjam Gielen: It hasn’t been that long since I felt confident enough to call myself a textile artist. I learned many techniques in my youth, but I don’t have any formal training in the arts.

I love to combine my embroidery with eco printing and dyeing, crochet, felting and any other technique that helps to achieve the effect that I’m looking for.

Dyeing and printing with plants provides me with a stash of fabrics and threads. This makes me feel like a child in a room full of wonderful toys with endless possibilities!

I enjoy experimentation and that often leads to new discoveries of how to use a certain material or technique.

I create my art at home: our living room doubles as my workspace while our kitchen is frequently turned into a dye studio.

I try to limit dyeing to moments when my family members are out, or I’ll dye in the garden when the weather allows – the smells from the dye pot aren’t always appreciated. Otherwise, my family is very supportive: they help me by editing my tutorials or providing inspiration with photographs and research. In that way my work is very much embedded in family life.

My main platform is social media, especially Instagram, and I like to connect and share with people around the world. I’ve participated in a few exhibitions, but felt very much on display rather than connected to the visitors.

How did you become a textile artist?

My mother, grandmother and aunts always had some textile activity on the go. It could be knitting, embroidery, crochet or sewing, but also tatting or macramé. They invariably made things that were useful, like clothing, tablecloths or lampshades. They wanted to make them as beautiful as possible and were always on the lookout for a new pattern or pretty yarn.

They showed me the joy of needlework but were also quite obedient to what they called ‘the rules’.

At school I was often criticised for not working neatly enough. That might have been to do with the fact that I am left-handed, but was forced to do all the crafts right-handed. I was constantly chided and forced to undo my work. It left me with the idea that textile work could be great, but I just wasn’t good enough.

I kept creating on a modest scale, because the fun and satisfaction of making things with my own hands kept its appeal. The birth of my children stimulated that and I loved to craft for and with them.

I was an author of children’s books when my children were young and I started the habit of doing some stitching or crochet after a day spent juggling with words. I just played with colours and stitches as a relaxing downtime, without much thought about results. That was when the joy came back and I was able to create more freely. Slowly it grew into something more.

Did you have a particular turning point that influenced your art?

I had done some botanical dyeing with my mother, but that had been forgotten over the years. When I saw eco printed fabrics online and read a book by India Flint on the subject, something clicked and I started eco dyeing and printing myself. The fabrics I produced turned out to be the ideal basis for my stitches. 

Another pivotal moment came during a TextileArtist online course by Sue Stone. It was something really simple: she tied a knot in her thread before starting. I was aghast because I’d been taught that tying knots was more or less a deadly sin! My grandmother used to say that the back of the work should be as neat as the front – knots had no place there. 

Seeing a renowned textile artist like Sue Stone actually tying a knot was very freeing. It made me realise that I still had lots of rules in my head that were hampering my artistic freedom. 

Sue’s style is very different from mine, but she still is a role model for me in her approach to textile art. It encouraged me to get rid of the last remnants of my harsh inner critic and enjoy the creative force of exploration and experimentation.

“Eco prints feel like a magical world I can explore with my needle.”

Mirjam Gielen, Textile artist

Patterns, lines & structures

What is the ethos behind your work of creating organic embroidery on eco printed fabric?

Nature is important to me and provides a constant source of inspiration. Outdoors, I feel nourished and relaxed.

I feel that textile work has a lot in common with organic processes. I can make my stitches small or big, dense or wide apart. They can be grouped together like a herd or wander around. They colonise the fabric in an organic way, growing slowly, stitch by stitch.

Stitches have their own characteristics that are a bit like the DNA that provide code for the stitch process. A french knot looks distinctive and not like a seed stitch, just like a rose looks like a rose and not like a tulip. Then there are the influences that can steer the process in a multitude of directions, similar to the influences of soil, sun or rain in nature.

“There are so many fascinating and beautiful structures and phenomena in nature that provide inspiration.”

Mirjam Gielen, Textile artist

Eco printing helps to get rid of the ‘blank page’ problem. It immediately provides an environment that can be explored with stitches. It invites intuitive stitching and a dialogue with the fabric.

Embroidery gives me direct contact with the fabric and I think that is why it is my preferred technique. But I don’t like to limit myself: crochet, for instance, can provide interesting and organic looking structures too. Felting has also found a place in my practice, not only because it is such a delight to stitch on, but also because it can be three-dimensional.

How do you develop ideas for your work?

For inspiration, I use images that I take with my camera or that I find on the internet. I collect them on boards on Pinterest. My next step is often to draw in a sketchbook, not with the aim of designing my work in detail, but to get a hands-on feel for patterns, lines and structures. I also often make stitch samples before starting on an art work. 

These stitch explorations have led to several ‘sketchcloths’, as I like to call them; eco printed fabrics that get filled over time with all sorts of experiments. The free stitch play on those fabrics is appealing enough to blur the line between ‘sample’ and ‘art’. 

My focus is increasingly on the process rather than on the result. I can start out with a mix of inspiring images as a basis, but once I get stitching, I let my intuition lead me. I might end up with something different from what I envisioned beforehand. And, when that leads to a ‘blah’ result, I don’t see that as a failure, but as a valuable lesson and a stage in my process.

Botanical dyes, reclaimed materials

What materials do you especially like to use in your work?

I want to have a practice that doesn’t contribute to the environmental issues that we face. Industrial dyeing of fabrics is one of the most polluting industries, and I don’t want to add to that if I can help it.

Botanical dyeing is one of the solutions, but I also use reclaimed materials. I do sometimes buy new materials like goldwork threads though – I’m not looking to create a new inner critic that chides me for not being strict enough regarding my efforts to be sustainable.

There’s a lot that can be found online, from shops that sell botanical dyestuffs or organic linen, to online market places where people ask a small price for their grandmother’s leftover stash.

I once bought a large box of threads from a widower who proudly showed me all of his wife’s work. He was selling her stash to raise enough money to buy a piece of ceramic art for her grave. Every time I use her threads I remember how lovingly he talked about her. That’s the kind of added bonus that you don’t get with store bought items.

What’s been your biggest challenge in creating your art, and how did you overcome that challenge?

I think the biggest challenge was to overcome self-doubt and self-critique. I was held back by old beliefs and musty rules. My harsh inner critic was frantically trying to keep me safe, safe from disappointment, ridicule or failure – be perfect, it would say, or better still, don’t even try. It’s like an overprotective friend that hates to see you get hurt but also has a totally unrealistic estimate of the dangers. 

I have found that many of the things that I feared are in fact non-existent.

If a composition doesn’t work, I can undo things, add stitches, add an appliqué or simply try again. If I run out of steam, it’s okay to rest for a bit – my mojo won’t get lost. I can’t lose what truly belongs to me and if it doesn’t truly belong to me, it’s okay to lose it. I have started to trust in that, and it’s brought me lots of joy, through the work itself and in sharing it with others.

Time & teaching

How do you organise your working week?

Wouldn’t it be wonderful if there were more than 24 hours in a day? But then I’d probably still discover that I didn’t have a drop to drink all morning or that it’s way past lunchtime! I can get completely engrossed in my work.

On the other hand, working from home can lead to people thinking that you are always available. I’ve had to learn to let the phone ring and say no to invitations to go for a coffee when I’m working.

Creating classes and tutorials takes up a big part of my time. I love to teach, but I need to protect the amount of time spent on it.

Social media can be another distraction. I try to take regular pauses while stitching, so as not to overtax my body by sitting in one position for too long. But I tend to fill that time by scrolling on my phone and, before I know it, I’m answering a question on Instagram, clicking on interesting links and reading messages from friends.

Being self-employed means having a lot of freedom – I can take a walk whenever I feel like it – but it also requires quite a bit of self-management.

I have a lot of followers on Instagram and a growing number of patrons on Patreon – that can lead to a feeling that I have to create interesting content all the time for all those lovely people.

Textile work is often labour-intensive and progress can be slow, so I don’t always have something new to show. When I feel that pressure I take a deep breath and realise that those demands are just in my head. Nobody actually gets angry or hurt when I don’t produce constantly.

Taking time off to stare out of the window, go on a walk or do a simple chore is time well spent as it creates space for my brain to process inspiration and come up with new ideas.

This is also similar to natural processes: seeds need time to germinate and winter days are just as important as the abundance of summer.

How is your work evolving?

I find that I’m drawn more and more to working three-dimensionally. It poses challenges that I avoided for a long time. I started with stitching on felt balls, but there are so many more possibilities – I’m excited to see where it leads me.

Do you have one or two tips for makers?

My best tip would be to focus on the process. To enjoy the journey wherever it leads.

If you see all your works as steps in an ongoing process, you become less afraid of failing. Failure doesn’t even exist. If you discover, for instance, that appliqué is not your thing or that you really shouldn’t have combined those two fabrics, that’s a lesson that will fuel your creative development just as much as any ‘successes’ will.

Another tip is to feel free to learn from others. Being inspired to try something you see someone else doing is not stealing ideas but a way of finding your own voice.

In textiles, we’re interconnected by a long tradition that spans many ages and cultures, and that always was and is the property of everyone. That said, it’s only fair to honour your sources of inspiration and give credit where it’s due.

During that time, the definition of ‘fine art’ was being critically examined: what made something ‘fine art’ versus ‘fine craft’? Could something functional also be considered fine art?

Textile artists weighed in with a resounding ‘yes’ by reimagining quilts in ways that emphasized design over function. They deviated from traditional, historical blocks and patterns to create abstract works, landscape designs, portraiture and more.

Then those quilters displayed their works by hanging them on walls rather than spreading them across a bed. Ultimately, fine art galleries started paying attention, and as the saying goes, the rest is history.

The possibilities for designing and creating art quilts have exploded since then, and we’ve compiled a list of books that can help you tap into the excitement. Each book features clear instruction complemented by gorgeous illustrations and photos.

Most importantly, all of the books are authored by a well-known art quilter. Each of them approaches art quilting differently, but they all celebrate the possibilities.

It’s time to start adding some quilt art books to your bookshelf.

Art quilt collage

Looking to dip your toes into the art quilting world? Here’s a great book to start your journey.

You’re first introduced to eight design guides presented in simple diagrams. These basic layouts can then be applied to the book’s engaging work-along projects.

Design checklists help readers analyse their artistic choices and change layouts accordingly. And See what happens next exercises offer a more prescribed method for trying new approaches.

Deborah Boschert also gives you a look into her signature technique of incorporating meaningful symbols into her art quilts. You’ll learn how to create shapes and symbols that are special to you, as well as how to work in a series and finish small art pieces.

Deborah’s step-by-step imagery and clear instruction will help you unlock your own artistic vision.

Art quilt collage: A creative journey in fabric, paint & stitch by Deborah Boschert (2016)
^{ISBN  9781617452840}

Quilt out loud

Have something to say? Tap into the power of embedding stitched letters, numbers, words and sentences into your art quilts.

Quilt artist Thomas Knauer’s quilts follow the craftivism movement, and his art quilts emphasise social justice issues. Thomas knows the power of stitched text, and in his book, he gives you a look into his creative process. You’ll not only learn unique quilting techniques, but you’ll also discover how to choose and embed text in ways that have impact.

Each chapter focuses on a particular approach, including raw-edge appliqué, quilted text, binary numbers and Morse Code. Whether your theme is serious or whimsical, this book shows you how to combine aesthetics with powerful messaging using fabric and thread.

Quilt out loud: Activism, language & the art of quilting by Thomas Knauer (2023)
^{ISBN 9781644033227}

Stitching stolen lives

The Social Justice Sewing Academy (US) works with students to amplify voices, empower youth and build empathy through quilting.

Students learn to create quilt blocks that help them examine and express the systemic problems that plague their everyday lives. Stitching Stolen Lives offers an in-depth look into a special remembrance project. Youth designed quilt blocks that memorialise family and friends they lost due to social injustices.

You’ll learn about the remarkable journey each student took to find their voice through the art of quilting. You’ll be amazed and moved by the students’ extraordinary quilt portraits and reading about the personal stories that inspired them.

This book also includes a resource section on how to talk about racial equity and how to use art as a tool to aid self-expression.

Stitching stolen lives: Amplifying voices, empowering youth & building empathy through quilts by Sara Trail and Teresa Duryea Wong (2021)
^{ISBN 9781644031384}

Create landscape quilts

It’s time to pull out those travel pictures and start quilting!

Learn how to create unique art quilts featuring your favourite places. Meri Henriques Vahl shares a simple method for designing realistic quilted nature scenes and villages. Using photographs from her travels, Meri explains how she achieves stunning scenery with lifelike details in her art quilts.

Various techniques, including fabric collage and tulle overlay, help quilters of all levels learn to quilt majestic mountainscapes, charming buildings and realistic people. Easy-to-follow instructions complemented by a stunning gallery of quilts will inspire you to turn your travel photos into lovely art quilts.

Create landscape quilts by Meri Henriques Vahl (2021)
^{ISBN 9781644030127}

Creating art quilts with panels

Discover how to transform fabric panels and thread into one-of-a-kind art quilts.

Award-winning quilter Joyce Hughes demonstrates dimensional thread painting, raw edge applique, and a variety of embellishments to make seasonal panels, beautiful florals, and panel replicas like Van Gogh’s Starry Nights.

From simple beading to more advanced three-dimensional pieces, Joyce presents her techniques across six projects that feature detailed photographs and a step-by-step format.

Discover how to make your quilt pop and explore endless options for creativity with free-motion quilting, thread painting, trapunto, overlay, three-dimensional effects, machine techniques, raw edge applique, and a variety of embellishments.

Creating art quilts with panels by Joyce Hughes (2019)
^{ISBN 9781947163164}

Capture your own life with collage quilting

It’s time to get personal.

Whether you’re celebrating your pet’s personality, preserving a memory from a family holiday or recreating your favourite flower, this book teaches you a simple technique to create a stunning and personal art quilt.

Jane Haworth shares her fun, easy, and addictive quilting method that doesn’t require hundreds of pattern pieces. That’s why it’s perfect for quilters of all skill levels.

Twelve different project ideas feature a variety of styles and themes, including animals, flowers, houses, musical instruments and landscapes. You’ll start by learning how to choose a photograph or image and make enlargements to create a pattern.

Then Jane explains how to choose the right background fabrics, master some free-motion quilting techniques, and finish and display your quilt.

Capture your own life with collage quilting by Jane Haworth (2023)
^{ISBN 9781639810222}

At play in the garden of stitch

This book is all about free-motion fun in art quilting.

Paula Kovarik shares approaches to free-motion stitching that are approachable, engaging and multi-layered. You’ll be encouraged to explore how stitching can bring depth to composition, texture to emotions and line to ideas.

In addition to simple stitching and drawing exercises, Paula shares examples and inspirations for how to approach this art form. Pictures of her award-winning art quilts illustrate her techniques and clarify her process.

Close-up photos of stitching also inspire readers to try their hand at Paula’s techniques. And her technical tips and stories of her successes and failures make this a wonderful read.

At play in the garden of stitch by Paula Kovarik (2021)
^{ISBN 9780578920047}

And finally…

Here’s a list of additional older books that may just become your new firm favourites (although could be a little more difficult to find). Check thrift shops, libraries, second-hand bookstores, and other online book sites to source these titles.

• Inspired by design: Seven steps to successful art quilting by Elizabeth Barton (2013) ISBN 9781607056348
• Visual guide to working in a series: Next steps in inspired design by Elizabeth Barton (2014) ISBN 9781607056614
• Point, click, quilt! by Susan Knapp (2011) ISBN 9781607052265
• Journey to inspired art quilting: More intuitive color and design by Jean Wells (2012) ISBN 9781607055808

Featured picks

• Art quilt collage by Deborah Boschert (2016)
• Quilt out loud: activism, language & the art of quilting by Thomas Knauer (2023)
• Stitching stolen lives by Sara Trail and Teresa Duryea Wong (2021)
• Create landscape quilts by Meri Henriques Vahl (2021)
• Creating art quilts with panels by Joyce Hughes (2019)
• Capture your own life with collage quilting by Jane Haworth (2023)
• At play in the garden of stitch by Paula Kovarik (2021)

If you buy books linked to our site, we may earn a commission from Bookshop.org, whose fees support independent bookshops.

Interested in more great books for learning textile techniques? Check out our list of books in which expert textile artists share their processes.

Do you have a favourite book about art quilting you can add to our list? Please share by leaving a comment below.

Fabric, thread and paper are Andrea’s materials of choice. But her computer is also a crucial design tool, enabling her to meticulously plan patterns and layers that interact with light to create shadows and volume.

How people interact with her work is of real importance too. Andrea encourages people to explore different perspectives and to appreciate the playful qualities in her work.

Her approach is the fruition of years of self-study. She draws on a wealth of influences and interests from her early years and adds to her ongoing research into colour, drawing, printmaking, digital design, weaving and textiles.

Andrea Barrios Aguilar: My work is delicate, intricate, meticulous and at the same time colourful and playful. It arises from the contemplation of textiles – their versatility and the way they can be moulded and shaped.

I’m fascinated by what you can do with chromatic and kinetic experimentation – working with colour and light and the sense of movement and energy that can be created. Geometry and the interaction of colours have always been the focus of my artistic exploration.

My intention is to create work which invites the viewer to play and discover. For example, realising that the appearance of the image changes depending on the viewpoint. When the viewer walks around the work they can appreciate the changing chromatic interaction.

Or perhaps discovering that all is not what it seems. When people see my work for the first time, they are often surprised that the medium is textiles. People think that artworks using textile slashing are made with paper or some kind of cardboard, rather than textiles.

The uncertainty about what they are looking at means the viewer is encouraged to take a closer look and thereby discover the different techniques and elements that make up the artwork.

“Every work presents a new opportunity to play with the possibilities of materials.”

Andrea Barrios Aguilar, Textile artist

Inviting play

Around the time I started working as a textile artist, I discovered the work of Carlos Cruz Diez, a Venezuelan artist known for his exploration of the interaction of colours and light in different materials and at different scales – including large public installations.

His work introduced me to the concept of participatory work. This is where an artwork needs to be seen from different perspectives in order to be understood in its totality. Every artwork is an invitation to play, to move around the piece and discover a universe of colour and geometry.

By playing with paint over different layers and materials, Carlos creates pieces where the image changes as you look at it. He inspired me to explore bringing the same concept to the world of fabrics, and then to threads and other materials.

Intuitive colour

I have developed a particular way of working with colours. I’m often asked who taught me about colour but the truth is that I have never taken a class. I mostly work with colour intuitively.

Thanks to my art history studies, I’ve collected a lot of visual information over the years. This, combined with my personal sensibility and all the colour inspiration that life and nature offer us, shapes the way I approach colour.

I study and research a lot. I love to refer to sources of art, design, graphic design, architecture, photography and colour theory in books and online. It’s important for me to do this. It helps me refresh my ideas, decide on a particular colour combination, resolve a composition or simply as a way to continue learning.

“It’s not that I ignore the chromatic circle or colour theory, rather I integrate that knowledge with my feelings, observations and experiences.”

Andrea Barrios Aguilar, Textile artist

One of the hardest parts of the creative process is being confident about your chosen palette for a project. I’ve found that after years of practice, the approach becomes more fluid and intuitive.

It’s as if I’m having a silent conversation with the colours.

Nowadays, I trust my approach to colour and this means I feel so much freer with the colour design process.

Choosing colour

I don’t have a typical palette. I love colours that are fluorescent, like green, magenta or orange, but I don’t use them in every piece.

I pay particular attention to how colours combine. Sometimes despite spending a lot of time choosing the final colour for a project, I realise that the colour I need is nothing like the one I was looking for.

The materials also change. Some of the fabrics or threads go out of stock, or I might have a small piece of fabric with a particular colour that I can only use in a couple of pieces. Sometimes I never find the right colour or tone that I was planning to use so I have to modify the design a little bit – and sometimes a lot.

“My colour palette is connected with the subject or the mood that I’m in, and the materials I have available.”

Andrea Barrios Aguilar, Textile artist

Discovering nature

I love to walk and as I’m wandering around the city I’m inspired by the colours of so many elements: architecture, graphic design, flowers and people. The landscape has also become an important source of inspiration.

I grew up in the countryside near the city but for many years I’ve been living in an apartment that, although very old and beautiful, has no balcony. During the pandemic lockdowns, I began to miss the countryside and the joy of travelling too.

I started walking to a nearby hill a couple of times a week. From the top, on days when the air and the sky are clean and clear, you can see a whole range of mountains surrounding the city – the Andes. I realised I wanted to have more landscapes and mountain views in my life. My work has become the perfect place to embrace that.

Light landscapes

First I made a series of drawings using parallel lines horizontally to recreate the view of a landscape from the window of a moving vehicle. Then I made another series in which I used recycled materials.

I am still exploring the representation of a landscape, while at the same time introducing light as a new element to the composition. My dioramas are made with waste textiles and then mounted over a lightbox. My idea is to bring an image of a landscape to life like at sunset or dawn.

I work over a light table creating the different layers of the diorama using pieces of silk, polyester, rayon, tulle and other recycled fabrics.

When the work is mounted with the light box behind, you see a bright, colourful and three-dimensional image of a landscape. The photograph of Diorama of a Landscape #8 shows how the piece looks depending on whether the light is on or off.

I have wanted to do something with light for a long time. These projects have been the perfect way to approach this – and it is just the beginning. My idea is also to incorporate light in the work with textile slashing.

I like to work on multiple projects at the same time so right now I’m dividing my days between my landscape series Dioramas of a Landscape and a new series of embroidery over paper in layers called Geometric Apparitions.

Creating digitally

Due to the delicacy of the materials I use and the precision required for the techniques I’ve developed, I like to plan as much as possible. Whether I’m working with fabric or embroidery on paper I create a detailed digital design.

This is essential for my process. In some cases – mostly with the embroideries – the time it takes me to work on the digital design is longer than the time it takes me to create the work itself.

Before I begin an artwork, I want to know the colours I will use and the exact place for every cut or perforation. I don’t want to end up with lots of holes in the wrong place.

I usually work alone in my studio and my phone is always on silent. This means I can focus on the process without distractions. Regardless of whether it’s fabric or paper and thread, my laptop is always on my desk displaying the image I’m working on.

Feeling colours

When I’m planning a piece, I’m considering the type of fabric, the colour, the light, the shadows of the folds and how all of these interact with each other.

I use digital design to help select the different colours for each project. I have a file that shows the colours of the fabrics that I have in my studio. This makes the design process more precise – even when there is a difference between the colours in the digital image and that of the actual fabric.

When working with fabric, I plan each piece as a chromatically fluid body, creating a structure of overlaid parts. When I’m working on the computer or with thread, every couple of minutes I do a little exercise where I squint my eyes a little. This helps me see the effect I’m looking for.

“I’m always thinking about the colour sensation I want from the final artwork.”

Andrea Barrios Aguilar, Textile artist

Cutting & folding

After completing the graphic design, I have my computer on one side and mark the fabric using a thin chalk pen. Then I start cutting and folding (and ironing) areas until the whole project is finished.

Sometimes I piece elements together on the same layer, or I might create a kind of collage sewn and interspersed with cuts and folds illustrating concepts of colour, light, movement and time.

I use a wide range of fabrics. It’s crucial, however, that all the fabrics in a project have the same – or very similar – composition or percentage of cotton or acrylic. This is because they will be ironed together at the same temperature and I want to avoid scorching any layers.

The thickness of each fabric layer is also important. The more layers a work has, the thinner the fabrics used should be. I place the thickest fabric last to form the base of the project. This is because if all the layers in one ‘fold’ are too thick it will be difficult to iron and keep the shape.

Depending on the work, I might mount the piece on a board and frame it with a mat, taking into account the height of the composition. Alternatively, I mount the artwork on a wooden frame.

Stitching paper

Embroidery on paper has allowed me to expand the possibilities of representation as I use the thread as a line or vector in space. Thread has similar irregularities as a line drawn in ink.

The interplay of repeated patterns and overlapping layers interacts with light, shadow and volume highlighting the dynamic possibilities of textiles as a material and an artistic medium.

I design every embroidery on the computer. Once I have the final image, I put the computer aside and start drawing on the paper. After finishing the image, I make the perforations using a home-made tool. I’ve replaced the end of a typical gouge tool with a needle or pin so the holes will be as tiny as the needle I’m using for the project.

Once I’m finished with the perforations, I erase and clean the paper. Then I start the embroidery. The image displayed on the screen is my guide. I use an extensive range of threads, from silk to polyester, and also a variety of thicknesses. If I’m not sure about a colour, I will carefully do a little test in an area and then continue working.

“Every fibre has a particular brightness and interacts differently, not only with the light that surrounds the work but with other fibres.”

Andrea Barrios Aguilar, Textile artist

Testing experiments

Developing my creative process has had its challenges. I grouped my first series of textile slashing works under the title Chromatic Textures. They are characterised by a free and organic line. The use of colour was more cautious with a limited palette.

My technique was also imprecise in the beginning. The parallel seams that I used to join the layers of fabrics were vertical and the cuts that were placed right in between the seam lines were rougher and less precise. I also used to sew many lines over the piece to hold the folds in place.

My process evolved and I started designing more abstract works with a cleaner image, specific geometric shapes and with the layers mounted in precise positions. By then I had begun using the computer to make all my designs.

I realised that I had to make some drastic changes to my process, from how I was holding and sewing all the layers together (to come up with a way to stop the fabrics moving when I’m machine stitching), to the places where I make the cuts.

“After much testing and experimenting, finally I achieved the right process to create the kind of work that I envisaged.”

Andrea Barrios Aguilar, Textile artist

I realised that in order to create the chromatic variation effect that I was looking for, it was better to make the seams and cuts diagonally rather than vertically. The way I keep the shape of the fold has also changed.

Every step of the process experienced some kind of modification, but I’m still following the same steps today. Although new obstacles have arisen as I’ve started working on bigger pieces, as I’ve worked out each process I’ve been able to resolve any problem – or so far at least.

Favourite tools

I used to work with typical small metal scissors but now my best friends are Fiskars scissors. I love them and recommend them to everybody. They are a different shape with a very long and sharp edge which is extremely helpful when you want a precise cut.

It takes time to use them without making mistakes. Because they are razor sharp they can catch on the fabrics behind when you are cutting through a layer. But it’s worth it. When I used regular scissors, my hands would be in quite a bit of pain after a couple of hours. Now I can work on a slashing piece the whole day without any problem.

Art business

Exhibiting, promoting and selling my work was hard at the beginning.

I didn’t have any background or formal study in visual arts. I had just taken a couple of basic elective courses when I was studying art theory. Therefore, when I was starting out I didn’t have the confidence in my artistic exploration that I have today.

Although there are many positives to being self-taught, you don’t have the connections that you might normally make at college. Establishing artistic ties and finding a place in those circles is more difficult. The art market in Chile is still small and, in some areas, precarious.

The appreciation and interest that people have in textile art has drastically changed in the last ten years. Textile art has broken into the sphere of contemporary art and is no longer seen as just another craft. The high quality of the work and the diversity of techniques have established it as another artistic discipline akin to drawing or painting. Contemporary textile art has much potential and a lot to say.

Creative stimulation

Everything is connected. I grew up surrounded by creative stimulation. My grandfather, who was a tailor, introduced me to working with textiles and the tools of the trade.

My father was an engineer. From him, I inherited a love of geometry, accuracy at work and its processes. I was always helping him, whether drawing, taking pictures or painting his structural plans of houses and offices.

My mother passed on her chromatic intuition and her skills in drawing, painting and using a sewing machine. My sister was also very creative and involved in different crafts making things. We used to sew together.

After I finished my major in Art History, I studied architecture for a year and the concept of cuts and folds came from work I did on that course.

All these elements influenced my early interest in art and design and have guided my exploration of contemporary textile art through self-study. Although I work mainly with fabrics and thread, my research and development of processes related to textiles have led me to explore other media like painting, drawing, photography and digital design.

I am inspired by many artists, designers and even architects. As well as Cruz Diez, I really connect with the work of Mark Rothko, Georgia O’Keeffe, Hilma af Klint, Agnes Martin, Carmen Herrera, Matilde Perez, Carmen Piemonte, Ellsworth Kelly and Lázló Moholy-Nagy.

I also really appreciate all the work and contributions that Gunta Stölzl, Sheila Hicks, Paulina Brugnoli, Anni and Joseph Albers have made in the areas of design, weaving and colour theory. My inspiration comes from all of them and so many more too.

Stitching therapy

When I started working with textiles, I was going through a difficult time personally. I was young and had recently lost both my parents, and my brothers were living abroad. It was a lonely and difficult time. I started connecting with fabrics, threads and paper as a way of expressing my emotions. Over time I established a daily practice.

In the end, that challenging time was the beginning. Even when I felt insecure because I didn’t have the ‘right’ background, I embraced what I had learned from my family and heritage and just jumped right in.

“I realised that I had found my passion for living, a way of connecting with myself and a form of meditation.”

Andrea Barrios Aguilar, Textile artist

Paper embroidery

I discovered embroidery on paper quite unexpectedly – and it too arose from challenging times. I was in Madrid visiting my brother Nico who was getting married. I had received some upsetting news but I didn’t want my sadness to spoil the celebrations.

I had a small notebook with very thick white paper but nothing to draw with. I asked Nico if he had anything I could use. After some searching, he produced a bunch of Letraset transfers and a basic sewing kit with a few dull colours.

I stayed awake that night looking at these materials: the white paper, the needle and threads, and the Letraset transfers. The first embroideries I did on paper were figurative with a limited palette of just black, red, and light blue. They were deeply sad and raw, expressing all that I was feeling – and I felt like screaming.

I quickly discovered that embroidery on paper was a way I could express my emotions in a really personal way: it was paper yet textiles. The introduction to Letraset was a bonus and I continued working with them for several years.

Working methods

I live and work in one place. My apartment looks and feels more like a studio, with materials everywhere. The largest room is where I have the principal work area, but I tend to take over the dining table, the kitchen and even the small bathroom. And if I’m working for an exhibition or an art fair, you will probably find artwork and materials even on the piano.

I find it helpful to work on multiple projects at the same time. So, if something is not working I just move to another piece of work and do something different. It helps keep me connected with my creative process and moving forward. If I’m feeling all thumbs I switch my focus to working on the computer.

“I think working on different projects at the same time helps keep your practice going.”

Andrea Barrios Aguilar, Textile artist

Working on multiple projects is also helpful when I make a mistake. Sometimes I might have to start all over again, so having something else on the go reduces my frustration and makes it easier to keep going.

There are occasionally days when my head is in another place and despite my best efforts, it is impossible to focus on any of the more complex projects. Then I like to experiment, for example, playing with different recycled materials that I’ve collected over the years. The Diorama of a Landscape series is the result of one of these ‘experimentation’ days.

Sometimes, however, I just have to give myself some distance from a piece, perhaps I need to find a solution for a problem or maybe change a colour that isn’t working. That can mean leaving it for days or going to do something different.

Other times I just stand in front of my desk and just look. I analyse the piece that I’m working on from a distance and the solution can come in a matter of minutes. I do this exercise also to help me decide when an artwork is actually finished.

Developing processes

My work has changed in so many ways over the years. Through the years I’ve been dancing with different themes: from geometry to landscapes, social movement, heritage and the city.

From a technical perspective, the cut I use in the slashing technique has become more precise and the length of the fold is a little longer. I now use more layers in a project and the designs are more intricate.

My embroidery on paper has also changed. From working and stitching on a single layer, today I design three-dimensional works. I have developed a system that allows me to create embroidery works made on different layers that I assemble to create a single final piece.

Working digitally allows me to create more detailed compositions, while at the same time making selecting a colour palette faster and more precise.

My approach to colour and design is going through continuous transformation. Now I feel more confident about my style and the palette I choose for each project. And with the incorporation of light into the process, I feel I’m entering a new and different stage. I have so many ideas.

“Using a computer as my main design tool has made my practice much more efficient.”

Andrea Barrios Aguilar, Textile artist

Tina is a visual and textile artist who thinks about the entanglements of materiality, ecological structures and the memories of places and things.

She creates three-dimensional, tactile sculptures using a wide range of textiles, thread and stitch. And she loves to incorporate found objects from thrift stores and markets to add extra texture and intrigue to her assemblages.

Tina’s work is about capturing the passage of time through texture – a blend of metamorphosis and sensuality, resulting in new forms inspired by the living, mineral and alchemical realms.

Take a look and see what you discover in the twists, folds and contortions of her cloth.

Tactile relationships

What is your artistic approach? Can you summarise what inspires you?

Tina Marais: The central focus of my practice is creating visual and textile art that emphasises the tactile relationship between materials. My work intertwines memories and experiences, capturing the passage of time through texture.

I gather and transform fabrics, objects and natural elements to delve into themes of history, life and transformation. My practice blends physical craftsmanship with sensuality, resulting in new forms inspired by the living, mineral and alchemical realms.

I’m particularly intrigued by folds – whether in philosophy, time, skin, or material – and how they can both conceal and reveal, protect and illuminate. Recently, I’ve been exploring innovative material approaches that investigate the entanglements between organic and inorganic elements, as well as human and non-human systems.

Through my art, I critique patterns of consumption and explore themes such as isolation and metamorphosis, while also highlighting the connections between people and ecosystems.

Material reflections

What made you decide to work with sculptural textiles?

My early experience as a costume designer deeply influenced my preference for dimensional structures in my work. From a young age, I was captivated by contemporary sculpture, particularly large-scale pieces.

This dimensionality resonates with the natural world, which is inherently layered and complex. The earth itself is built of layers, and everything around us consists of dimensional cellular structures. Even human nature and abstract systems are complex structures.

These reflections have transformed my approach to creating, making physicality and dimensionality central to my process.

“I find that work truly comes alive – charged with emotion and content – when it occupies space in three dimensions.“

Tina Marais, Textile artist

I always begin with a concept or message in my work, which guides my choice of materials. For instance, cotton is not only connected to water usage in its production but also to its journey from plant fibres to thread, fabric and beyond – often travelling across the globe multiple times.

Historically, cotton is also linked to the legacy of the slave trade. In contrast, I’ve recently worked extensively with linen, a material with a rich history dating back to ancient Egypt. Linen’s more eco-friendly production and natural antibacterial properties resonate with themes of healing for me.

Understanding the ‘voice’ of materials and their histories informs my choices and enhances my creative process.

Organic seedlings

Tell us a little about the artwork you created for your Stitch Club workshop…

Yes, I’m excited that I was invited to present a workshop to Stitch Club members. In my workshop, I guide participants through the process of creating dimensional soft sculptures using textiles, thread and basic embroidery stitches. The sculptures, entitled Organic Seedlings, are inspired by the intricate details of seeds, grains and flower stems.

I have a deep passion for crafting these structures using a diverse range of materials, from precious silks and leathers to wool threads, rope and embroidery floss. I always incorporate beadwork and found objects to enhance the dimensionality and detail of the sculptures.

Being a somewhat ruthless collector, I love going on archaeological ‘digs’ in thrift stores and markets, or in my own studio’s inventory, often including unlikely materials to complete my assemblages.

Additionally, I demonstrate a basic technique for drafting patterns in an organic manner, which will help participants understand the potential for creating dimensional textile structures.

Organic & interactive

Can you tell us a little about your making process and techniques?

I begin each project with a core concept – whether it’s an idea, a question, or a message – and then immerse myself in research and sketching, often producing numerous sketches. I use line drawings to explore and clarify my vision, particularly how I want the piece to interact with positive and negative space.

Once I have a clear direction, I gather materials, carefully considering their origins and how their unique histories will contribute to my concept.

“The making process itself is often akin to a physical dance.”

Tina Marais, Textile artist

Making involves a dialogue with the materials, responding to what they allow and coaxing them into alignment with my intentions. This process is highly organic and interactive.

When working on pieces with repetitive elements, I frequently find myself thinking about future projects, leading to overlapping ideas and themes in my studio.

I enjoy delving deeply into bodies of work, exploring a particular theme or research angle over several years before transitioning to new explorations.

Essential tools

What are your must-have tools or supplies when you’re creating and where do you source them?

I look for good scissors and good thread – and needles that don’t break under stress. When selecting scissors, I prioritise how they feel in my hand rather than the brand or model. I consider factors like the length of the blades and how smoothly they cut through fabric.

My all-time favourite was a pair of super sharp tailor scissors I purchased in Portugal. Unfortunately, they ended up in the trash at the airport security after teaching a course in Poland. At the moment I’m using Fiskars professional scissors.

For heavy-duty tasks, I rely on a robust sewing machine, the Singer heavy duty denim 6335M. I’ve had Bernina machines in the past and absolutely love them, but have ‘killed’ a few sewing machines over the years.

As I don’t do machine embroidery, I prefer sewing machines that can handle various thicknesses and that are mechanical instead of digitally controlled. The Singer gives me a good alternative to an industrial sewing machine and is heavy enough not to ‘bounce’ when I’m really getting into sewing.

For machine sewing I always use SCHMETZ needles: I prefer universal needles, but change depending on what I’m sewing. For hand stitching, I go for larger and longer needles, upholstery or doll needles, and I source my needles from Loops & Threads (from Michaels stores, USA and Canada).

When it comes to thread, I prefer Gütermann because its high quality significantly improves the results and saves time.

I’ve adapted to using thicker needles and threads due to some medical treatments that have affected my fingertips. Instead of fighting this, I’ve adjusted my tools to suit my needs.

My suppliers vary depending on my location, as I move around frequently. In Montreal, for example, there’s Ugarit La Maison de l’Artisanat – a fantastic hidden store for bulk beads. I visit haberdashery stores, art supply shops and hardware stores, always on the lookout for objects that can be reinvented or repurposed.

I also enjoy working with found objects and vintage fabrics, often sourcing materials from second-hand stores (known as ‘fripperies’ in France and Quebec), street markets and even during long walks where I collect seeds and pebbles.

Tempted by tactility

How did you develop your artistic skills?

My passion for the arts, fibres and materials began at a very young age. I was born in 1977 and raised around Cape Town, South Africa. The diverse landscapes and cultures there profoundly shaped my connection to the natural environment and my artistic vision.

I studied fine arts and visual communication at the Open Window Art Institute near Johannesburg in South Africa, focusing on painting, sculpture, drawing and printmaking.

During this time I also took courses in pattern making. Initially, I didn’t view my textile work as part of my fine arts practice, but I eventually transitioned into costume making and design for theatre and dance.

In 2008, I migrated to Canada. By 2011 I’d settled in the Montreal region of Quebec. This significant transition expanded my arts practice and artistic perspective, allowing me to create over 80 community-based, social outreach, cultural mediation and public art projects over a decade.

During this time I shifted my focus to textile and fibre arts, which greatly broadened my scope for conceptual exploration, scale and installation. The fluidity and tactile nature of textiles felt like a natural extension of my artistic ideas.

In 2022, this led me to pursue a master’s degree in Fibres and Material Practices at Concordia University in Montreal, where I focused on critical thinking and research creation in art making.

“I believe that developing artistic skills comes from persistent practice and a curiosity to make the impossible possible.”

Tina Marais, Textile artist

Collaborative enrichment

I’ve been fortunate to have an incredible network of friends and an artistic community to exchange ideas with. Having extraordinary women, friends and artists around helped to shape my journey.

While solitary studio time is essential, collaborating with others and engaging in community discussions greatly enriches my work.

My parents, in their own distinct ways, provided me with access to a wide range of cultural activities, including music and art, which were integral to my upbringing. My son, Garrett Struthers, has been a constant source of inspiration, support and valuable critique throughout my studio practice.

My partner, Marc Villarubias, offers unique challenges to my artistic ideas and critical approach, especially in aligning ecological issues with cultural understanding. His support has been invaluable in grounding abstract concepts into concrete research and creative thinking.

I previously had a large studio space in downtown Montreal but have since transitioned to a home studio. I prefer working unconventional hours, often late at night and find that the intimacy of a home studio better suits my creative process.

Being immersed in a more personal space allows me to fully engage with my work. When travelling, I usually have some hand sewing or simple preparation of multiple elements with me; it becomes a mutative process while in transit.

Water & cloth

Which piece of your textile art is your favourite, and why?

It’s very hard to just highlight one work. Often I am my own worst critic, and every artwork lays the foundation for the next piece. There’s a constant push and pull between connection and realisation, technique and material.

As an artist, I think we’re in a constant pursuit of excellence that’s unachievable, and this is the place where the magic happens.

The artwork Untamed, which I created for a solo exhibition in 2017, still really stands out for me. It’s a large-scale artwork created in recycled denim, the first work that went on to become the flux de l’or bleu series. It’s an artwork with layered denim, machine and hand stitched, and detailed with silk embroidery thread.

“The work Untamed reflects on the fragility of water and the impact of the cotton denim industry on water supplies.”

Tina Marais, Textile artist

I’m visualising water as a wounded body bearing the weight of consumerist culture, slowly suffocated, drained by pollution and chemically damaged by micro-fibres and plastics.

The character of water is not a single thing but has multiple manifestations. I’m fascinated by the physicality of water: its weight, the fluidity of water as a structure, the force of a wave as it’s propelled to the shore or broken against rocks.

I’m thinking of water as fluid bodies, holding stories in its depths. Water is a life force, containing millions of microorganisms, a breathing, living entity that’s in a constant state of change.

I’m curious about how to depict this entangled state of water with fibre and all its pathways.

I often reflect on the cloth of the garments that we wear, metaphorically unravelling it back to threads and fibres. I imagine the fragmented traces of the production process of textile, imprinted in its transformative story.

I’m reflecting on the relationship between water and the effects of cloth production on ecosystems and structural systems. I’m exploring how these relationships weave together in trajectories across bodies of water and the constant intercontinental flow of materials used to fabricate suitable second skins for our bodies.

Pistachios & tea bags

Another series of works that were particularly challenging in concept structure and material choices was the body of work created for my thesis exhibition at Concordia University titled Unfold, My Skin, in 2022. These works included Unfolding, Le Petit Mort, Picalaire II, Unfold Me, Undercurrents and Bounded Traces V and Bounded Traces VI.

They were created using a variety of carefully selected materials, combining ceramic, wood, reclaimed linen, embroidery and – even for some works – collected pistachio shells and tea bags. It spoke of new materialism, the body, and the pathways of material connection and accumulation.

I enjoyed the challenge of the combination of research, conception and installation. The individual pieces that made up this series were either sold to private collectors or have travelled for other exhibitions in Canada, France, China, Belgium, Lithuania and Australia. I was so thrilled that one work was included in the Fiber Art Now Excellence in Fibres exhibition.

Textures & objects

How has your work developed over time?

Over time, my work has evolved significantly, driven by my ongoing exploration and deeper understanding of textile art.

Initially, I focused on traditional textiles, but I soon began experimenting with vintage fabrics, found objects and unconventional materials. This experimentation has allowed me to develop unique textures and forms in my art.

One of the hallmarks of my practice has been the integration of found objects. By incorporating items like seeds, pebbles and other non-traditional materials, I add layers of meaning and texture to my pieces. This approach reflects my deepening engagement with the materiality and context of my work.

As my practice has matured, I’ve placed greater emphasis on the tactile and sensory aspects of textile art. My pieces now explore the physical and emotional responses elicited through touch and texture, which has led to a more nuanced understanding of how viewers interact with my work.

And what direction do you think your work will take in the future?

Looking ahead, I see several exciting directions for my art. I’m committed to exploring and incorporating more eco-friendly and ethically sourced materials, which could involve further innovation with recycled and upcycled textiles.

I’m interested in merging textile art with other mediums or art forms. Collaborations with digital artists, architects or designers could lead to new and exciting hybrid works that push the boundaries of textile art.

I may expand my work into larger-scale installations or public art projects, which would allow me to engage with broader audiences and explore new dimensions of my art.

Integrating technology with traditional textile practices is another area I’m excited about. Experimenting with digital embroidery, smart textiles or other innovative approaches could blend the tactile nature of textiles with technological advancements.

And finally, I plan to continue exploring storytelling through textiles, finding new ways to convey complex themes and personal histories through my art.

“My goal is to keep evolving and deepening my engagement with materials, techniques and concepts.”

Tina Marais, Textile artist

Experiment freely

What advice would you give to an aspiring textile artist – and in particular if they wanted to use your kind of materials and techniques?

If you’re interested in working with materials and techniques similar to mine, my advice would be to embrace experimentation and allow yourself the freedom to explore. The essence of textile art lies in its tactile nature, so don’t be afraid to play with textures, colours and forms.

One crucial piece of advice is to develop a deep understanding of the materials you work with.

Whether you’re using vintage fabrics, found objects or traditional textiles, get to know their properties and how they interact with different techniques. This will give you greater control and inspire innovative approaches. For instance, I often use materials in unconventional ways, which requires a thorough knowledge of their strengths and limitations.

Another important aspect is to build a diverse toolkit. Invest in quality tools that feel right in your hand and adapt them to suit your needs, just as I do with my selection of scissors, needles and threads. Your tools can significantly impact your creative process and final outcome, so find out what works best for you.

Networking and building relationships with other artists and suppliers can also be incredibly beneficial. I’ve found that engaging with a community of artists and visiting unique sources, like second-hand stores or street markets, has been invaluable in discovering new materials and inspirations.

Sharing experiences and resources, as well as collaborating with others, can provide new perspectives and opportunities.

Finally, be patient and persistent. Artistic growth comes from consistent practice and learning from both successes and failures. Celebrate your progress and stay curious about the world around you, as inspiration often comes from the most unexpected places.

These elements have greatly helped me move forward in my work, enabling me to refine my techniques and expand my creative boundaries. By staying engaged with your materials, your community and your own evolving process, you’ll be well on your way to creating meaningful and impactful textile art.

rom mice to owls to rabbits and foxes, each of her figures has something to say, with a wink and a nod.

Bryony’s purposeful use of reclaimed textiles to create her creatures adds to their appeal. Nothing is off limits, including upholstery fabrics, lace, velvet, barkcloth, silk and old wool blankets.

Bryony believes the prior lives embedded in the vintage fabrics she uses add to her creature’s personalities and stories. And we think you’ll wholeheartedly agree.

It’s important to note Bryony’s incredible craftsmanship. All her techniques have come about through trial and error, and she will tell you every creature teaches her something new. Imagine trying to stitch between the claws of a fox or the underside of a rabbit’s tail!

We can’t wait for you to explore Bryony’s magical storyland, a place that’s beyond charming and is utterly remarkable. Be sure to also check out the glorious names Bryony bestows on her creatures. Crowning strokes all.

Surrounded by artistic possibilities

Bryony Rose Jennings: I had a charmed childhood in a small cottage in a quiet village in rural Hampshire. My parents were art teachers and artists in their own right. Art and the practice of making things was part and parcel of daily living.

My brother and I created and explored freely. If we wanted to make something, we just got to it, learning as we went.

The kitchen table was often covered in mounds of clay or drawing paper, and my bedroom was full of thread and squirrelled away fabric scraps. The garden was filled with hidey holes, fairy houses, and we made dens stocked with mud pies and flower petal potions.

“I never had to question that a career in the arts was a possibility and, for that, I know I’m extremely lucky.”

Bryony Rose Jennings, Textile artist

In terms of early textile creations, I made lots of things with needle and thread. But I especially remember when my mum was my art teacher at primary school, we all made an appliqué page for an alphabet book.

My page was a big letter ‘B’ in blue fabric and a butterfly collaged in many different colours, all stitched onto hessian.

The glory of Flossie

For as long as I can remember, I’ve collected and kept fabrics that hold meaning or speak to me. But I first explored textiles as an art medium during my college foundation art course.

I had a wonderful teacher, Yvonne Kimber, who opened the door to a magical world. She introduced me to all sorts of exciting new materials and techniques. Her enthusiasm was both exciting and contagious.

I found myself particularly taken with free-motion embroidery on soluble fabric and became quite obsessed. My end-of-year exhibition piece was a tent created with muslin.

It was big enough to walk into and was filled with embroideries of skeletal leaves and natural detritus. It was a visual and tactile expression of memory and experience.

After college, I studied jewellery and silversmithing at The School for Jewellery, at Birmingham City University. I had taken a metalwork course at college and wanted to pursue that further.

That’s when I came to understand my creativity was suited to the creation of objects, and I really enjoyed working in 3D.

I spent most of my twenties working in jewellery design and retail, but in my spare time, I continued to make mad things from fabric. My artist friend Abi and I created and sold textile jewellery featuring large vibrant fabric flowers sewn into silver frames and then layered and embellished. From there we ventured into textile sculpture and created a series of installations for art trails.

The creatures I create today were actually inspired from one of our most enthusiastic and madcap ideas: creating a life-sized patchwork donkey for a seaside exhibition.

We spent a few days and nights constructing him from the materials we had to hand. We stitched old duvets and clothes over a wooden frame, and Flossie the Donkey was born. We were thrilled to have created a character that conveyed so much narrative and personality.

To top it all off, Flossie was covered in patches of my favourite fabrics and became a showpiece to display and preserve my beloved hoardings.

“Flossie was magnificent, and he inspired me to see what else I could create in that way.”

Bryony Rose Jennings, Textile artist

My sculpting techniques are entirely self-taught, and the way I use stitch to create my creatures has developed out of requirement.

In some ways, I think the fact I don’t know any better about using a needle and thread is a benefit. Ignorance and a rueful disregard for rules has helped me persevere and develop my own unique style.

Naivety was a blessing

My process is slow, and I haven’t found any effective shortcuts. Sometimes I do wish I could work faster, as it would help with finances. But rushing doesn’t feel right, and I’ll only end up having to redo what I rush.

“My sculpting techniques are entirely self-taught, and the way I use stitch to create my creatures has developed out of requirement.”

Bryony Rose Jennings, Textile artist

In some ways, I think the fact I don’t know any better about using a needle and thread is a benefit. Ignorance and a rueful disregard for rules has helped me persevere and develop my own unique style.

I’ve learnt that the reward comes with consideration and time. It takes time to gather a palette of fabrics and find out what fits where. And it takes so much time to sew it all together!

I’ve learnt to embrace that, but I also find there’s a rhythm to my work. Once I find that rhythm, I just keep going knowing I’ll eventually finish and enjoy the results.

Beastie inspiration

I always begin a sculpture with an idea of an animal, but I also try to let the animal emerge organically as I work. Certain animals always carry personal connotations for me, informed by a variety of sources, including stories, films, and folklore.

But inspiration is truly everywhere. Even a person can remind me of an animal that inspires a creature.

I’ll look up reference photos of the animal or watch wildlife documentaries to get a feel for the way it moves. Sometimes I’ll sketch out my ideas, but drawing isn’t an integral part of the process.

Fabrics can also be a source of inspiration. For example, my life-sized wolf Ulfred was instigated by a pewter-coloured beaded table runner I had found in a sale.

I’d been keen to make a wolf for ages, and I was especially taken with the idea of a lone wolf that sat on the sidelines and looked in at us. 

I wanted him to be pure, wild and fierce, but also intelligent, insightful and carrying the essence of associated tales and folklore. When I came across that fabric, I finally felt confident bringing my idea to life.

I’ve also been inspired to make a creature based on a feeling or event. For example, I periodically come back to a series of mother and child pieces as a way to document my experiences of motherhood, relationships and precious moments with my two sons.

Skeletons & flesh

I describe my process as ‘building with fabric’, and I liken it to using a modelling medium such as clay. I use basic stuffed shapes to create different body sections and then stitch them together and sculpt them into more fluid forms.

Larger works start with intuitively creating a wire armature that’s like a ‘skeleton’. I then flesh out the skeleton by wrapping reclaimed fabric strips and then stitching them to secure in place. I use fabric as stuffing to create the shape of the body. The result is a very solid undressed form.

The creatures come to life with the addition of their fabric ‘skin’ and features. First I add the features, such as eyes, and then I apply layers of fabric over the whole piece.

These are directly stitched to the body using my own naïve version of appliqué. I choose fabrics that add texture or colour, or because the fabric’s pattern works well to accentuate muscle or shape.

My sculptures are constructed, sculpted and held together with hand stitch. I use a large range of upholstery and darning needles with strong upholstery threads for sculpting and construction. I move on to six-ply embroidery cottons for surface stitching. Those stitches are both functional and aesthetically visible.

“I find there’s always a certain point in the creative process when most of my sculptures develop a life of their own. That’s my favourite bit.”

Bryony Rose Jennings, Textile artist

There’s a turning point when a little voice in my head says ‘Oh, there you are’! And from that point forward, I know where I’m going with the sculptures – they help me to make themselves.

I think there is something about portraiture, human or animal, that provokes an interpretation or response. Perhaps it’s the eyes or the pose or something else, but it’s hard to look at a depiction of a living being without having some sort of reaction or emotion.

So, I don’t consider a piece of work finished until it communicates something to me. When I see something more, something deeper, than just a static animal sculpture, I consider the work successful.

Tapping into vintage fabric stories

By nature, I’m a gatherer and collector, a keeper of the worn out, unloved and discarded. I find beauty in the detritus of the everyday, including old clothes, household linens and timeworn draperies that carry the marks of time and the discarded memories of lives lived.

I’ve never been one for shiny and new. I’m drawn to the character and narrative that develops with age. Vintage fabrics appeal to me because they come with their own voice and story.

I’m also moved by wonderful old quilts made from a lifetime’s worth of clothing. They tell a family’s story and carry a feeling of humanity.

“I feel a deep connection to fabrics of bygone eras, and I think that shows in the creatures created from those materials.”

Bryony Rose Jennings, Textile artist

Domestic fabrics are such an integral part of our lives. They clothe and comfort, and I love infusing those stories into my work.

I source my fabrics everywhere, including charity shops, eBay and car boot sales, and clothes come from family and friends. I am also given so much! I’ve met many fellow fabric lovers who are very generous.

I think they feel safe passing along their precious resources because they know I’ll honour and appreciate them by adding another chapter to their stories.

I’m more than happy when my beasties are handled, but with that comes the understanding the vintage materials will continue to be affected by age and touch. I have kept several animal sculptures in my home, some of which are nearly 20 years old. I think they only improve with age and more life experience.

If they get dusty, I hoover them. And if they look like they’re fading, I move them out of direct light. It’s all common sense. The only thing that really scares me are clothes moths, so I’m always vigilant!

A beloved workspace

I work in a home studio in a traditional Edwardian terraced house. From my desk, I can see into my garden through the original stained glass windows and doors.

It’s an eclectic space with wall to ceiling shelves on one side that are filled to the brim with boxes of fabric, coils of wire, jars full of haberdashery and other inspiring objects I may use ‘one day’.

I’m an unashamed collector and hoarder of treasures – antique sewing ephemera, dried flowers and seed heads, sea glass, fossils, shells, threads and more.

The other wall is filled with a gallery of artworks, photographs, framed embroideries and thimble shelves that also house vintage thread spools and little treasures. And my desk is home to whatever I am working on and a constantly changing pile of fabrics. It’s a bit like working in a nest.

Encouraging 3D exploration

I started teaching textiles about 15 years ago offering short two- or three-day courses. Students learn to create animals such as mice, squirrels, hares and owls. I also offer longer courses for students directing their own brief. 

I really enjoy spending creative time with others, especially fellow fabric lovers. I have met so many kindred spirits, and I think it can be quite a cathartic process for us all.

“We can get lost in our own creativity whilst being free to discover our own interpretations.”

Bryony Rose Jennings, Textile artist

Many students are challenged to let go of their need for perfection. That’s why I walk them through a step-by-step process and remind them along the way that there is no need to ‘get it right’.

Each sculpture reflects the personality and mood of its creator, and the result is uniquely theirs. Plus, some of the best creatures are often an accumulation of happy character-forming accidents!

It’s no surprise that Olga creates artwork with a sense of pure freedom and fantasy. Heralding from a background of six ethnicities and four religions, she grew up instilled with the ability to navigate a broad range of realities and cultures – experiences that have encouraged her unique ideas.

Her one-of-a-kind artwork ranges from multi-layered wall sculptures to textile and fibre installations. And her materials are just as diverse. Olga is as enchanted by a vintage scrap of lace as by an odd length of used fishing rope. To her, it’s all inspiration waiting to happen. No wonder her pieces embody a playful fairy tale quality that captivates her audience. 

Born in Moscow and now living in Rome, she delights in the rich choice of materials readily available to her in the Eternal City. So much so, that Olga has developed a fascination with the artefact: a precious art object made up of layers of textile collage, and often incorporating hand embroidery, crochet and weave.

Her artworks, she tells us, come with an invitation to touch. And we’re in no doubt that her installations transform the space they occupy, creating a fairytale scene for grown-ups, transporting them to a new dimension.

Take a look at Olga’s magical worlds of discovery, crafted from her own heart, mind and hands.

Tactile therapy

Olga Teksheva: What attracts me to textile art is its connection to reality, and to the sense of touch. Working with threads and textiles anchors me to this world and somehow gives me calm and security.

Changing career

I worked in fashion from 1993 to 2015, first as a fashion journalist, then, after graduating in fashion design in Italy, as an assistant to the director of an haute couture atelier in Rome. Later, I collaborated as a textile designer with various designers and brands. I was absolutely in love with the fashion of the 1990s. It was creative, often very experimental and intellectual, a real form of art.

“The more I worked on different projects, the more it became clear that I prefer to practise crafting things – to embroider, to crochet, to drape – than to simply draw clothes for fashion brands.”

After my fashion and costume design course, I started to study traditional embroidery – techniques like beading with satin ribbons. Later, I took different courses in crochet and knitting, learning various traditional techniques, though I didn’t want my own work to be traditional. I prefer to experiment with materials and measurements. 

For example, the trees in the Once Upon a Time There Was a Fish Sitting on a Tree installation are crocheted with a giant hook, but the material I used is light fibres. The cocoons for the Hidden Treasures installation are crocheted in quite a traditional way, but the fibres are various coloured fishing threads. Here in Italy it’s a paradise for textile artists, since it’s so rich in textile manipulation traditions and high quality materials.

I spent a period doing pure research, asking questions like ‘What happens if I crochet a thick rope?’and ‘What if I make an irregular and gigantic cross-stitch?’. Then one day a friend told me it all looked like contemporary art, rather than haute couture. 

At that time I discovered TextileArtist.org, containing fascinating interviews with international artists. It was so inspiring and was the turning point that convinced me to dedicate myself to textile art. My work as a textile artist today is thanks to the endeavours of this website!

“I realised that this was the perfect arena for my work, involving so much reflection, research, creativity and resulting in pure contemporary art.”

History and mythology

My specialism when studying at Moscow State University was Japanese Medieval Art. I’m also influenced by the graphic qualities of Japanese decorative paintings, the capacity of stylizing a natural object to make it look plain, and attention given to the rhythm of the lines. I also use lots of Japanese textiles, both modern and vintage.

Everybody asks me why I don’t live in Japan if I’m so enchanted with Japanese art. I guess I prefer to keep Japan as another magic dimension – one to enter occasionally, but definitely not to spoil with everyday life.

Roman influences

I came to Rome for the first time in 2007 and fell in love with the Eternal City. I moved here in 2008. Its Baroque aspect is dear to everything I do, with all of its theatricality, its drama of light and shadows, and its unbelievable perspectives in frescoes. 

But I’m mostly connected to the history of this place – I’m talking about 3500 years ago when it wasn’t a city and not even yet a town. My series Realm on Rocks (a branch of the project Rocks. We Are Tender) is dedicated to the mythological kings, Pico the Woodpecker and Fauno the Wolf, as well as to the ancient deities Giano (Janus) and Terminus. 

During my research for this series, I discovered that, somehow, ancient pre-Romans knew about the big bang theory, since the meaning of Janus is the starting point of the world that goes into expansion: it’s the beginning of time, of light and darkness. Pico is the embodiment of order, and Fauno is that of chaos – neither can exist without the other. It reminds me of Hegel’s philosophy, except these concepts were born around the 14th-13th centuries BC.

Other-worldly fantasy

An important influence on my work is a memory from my grandmother’s sister, who was practising ancient shamanistic rituals in the 1970s when I was a child. This episode, when I was four years old, was about a ‘guardian rock’ and it inspired my future installations. 

There was a huge piece of rock at the edge of the wood, and the local kids told me it was a gate to the home of the guardian of the wood. They said if I didn’t behave well, the guardian would send a huge bear to take me away. I had only seen bears in Moscow Zoo, so when nobody was looking, I would go to the rock, delicately knock on it and say: ‘So sorry to disturb you, but I really want to see a bear. He must be so cute and fluffy! Please, please, please show me a bear!’. When I confessed my requests to my grandmother, she burst out laughing and told me: ‘Oh, but you’re such a good girl! He won’t send you a bear, not even if you ask him!’

“That experience of an object as a magic gate into a magical world has remained with me forever. And that’s why I try to create an atmosphere with this other-worldly dimension within my installations.”

I remember a fantastic episode during the Rome Art Rooms fair in 2019. I had mounted my Appearing/Disappearing installation inside a Ford van. It looked especially enchanting after sunset, since the interior of the van was black, and there were two theatre-like light devices that highlighted the shiny fishing thread that I’d used to crochet the trees. 

One evening I saw a visitor slowly putting his arm inside the installation and then taking it out again. When I asked him what he was doing, he rewarded me with the reply: ‘Well, I thought if I put my arm into this other dimension it would transform somehow … and come out kind of green and furry.’

That was the best compliment I’ve ever had for my artwork!

Creating complexity

I like complicated things. The world of our feelings, thoughts and emotions is composed of so many layers of shades. I believe this complexity is precious because it makes a whole universe of every person.

My artworks are multi-layered, often made of precious vintage fabrics. Every art piece is a one-of-a-kind experience: there would only have been one small piece of a rare silk or brocade, or a small amount of vintage thread or lace, that I had available to use. 

In recent years, when I’ve talked to art critics or gallerists they’ve told me that people want simple things. I find this desire for simplicity hugely disappointing. It might be revolutionary during the postmodernist period, but I see it as a lack of desire to contemplate something here and now, to experience a moment or a work of art with undivided attention.

I remember a particular Renaissance art object, it was very elaborate, both intellectually and from the artisanal point of view. It was an artwork that had to be learnt about to be understood and fully appreciated. I’m afraid we’ve lost this need for quality of depth in an art object. 

Interactive playground

“My installations are meant to be a kind of playground for grown-ups, a space where one can abandon his or her seriousness and social status, and feel like Alice in Wonderland.”

My main field of work is textile and fibre installations. I try to create an atmosphere that invites people to interact with these art objects, but people often come to shows believing they can’t touch a work of art and therefore need encouragement to do so. 

During art shows, I’m always available to talk to the visitors about ideas behind my installations and sculptures, and I notice the difference in reaction between those who listen to my explanation and those who don’t, saying ‘No thank you, I’m sure the art speaks for itself’. 

I accept their purely visual interaction with an art piece, but I feel the more you learn, the more you see. That’s why I like to learn more about spheres of art that are totally different from what I do, such as the performance art of Marina Abramovich or minimalism of Donald Judd. Learning about something that is totally at odds with your own vision and point of view helps to develop new visions of art, and those of other people.

“Textiles are such a rich material and they permit me to express being multi-layered and complex to the maximum.”

Favourite Project

It’s so hard to say which project is my favourite. I was told I shouldn’t see my artworks as children, but so far that’s beyond me. Every ‘child’ is my favourite. But, if I had to choose, I would say it’s the Hidden Treasures installation. It consists of crocheted cocoons of various shapes and colours, each with some holes in it. They are hanging from the ceiling, and visitors are free to hug every cocoon, to find the best hole to look inside to discover where a hand-embroidered butterfly wing is hidden. 

I love this project because it’s so much fun to see people who are hugging the cocoons, looking inside and letting themselves go, just like little kids in search of their tiny treasures. I love it because it’s so life-affirming.

This installation is born out of child’s play. When I was a girl on summer vacations at my grandmother’s, my friends and I would put items like a butterfly wing, a beautiful dry petal, a hair clip lost by who-knows-who (but surely a fairy!), and other such treasures, in an empty metal confectionery box. 

We would bury the box of treasures in the garden that surrounded our apartment block, with the intention of digging it up the year after. But I never did manage to find my treasures, however much I dug to find them. They’re a faint memory now, together with my grandmother’s face, the light in her house, and the smell of cakes she would cook for me. Something full of both joy and melancholy all at the same time.

A personal response

I have a deep respect for artists who dedicate themselves to the battle for human rights, but I’m not an art activist myself; I belong to a world of dreams and deities. However, as an exception, I created Silence Covers Violence. It was in response to the FORGETME(K)NOT group show at the Museum of Embroidery and Textiles at Valtopina, a show dedicated to the neglected rights of women. 

I learnt about this project while my daughter was fighting back against bullying by two of her female classmates. What struck me most was the silence of kids who were ashamed to talk to their parents, the silence of the parents who knew, and the silence of the teachers who dismissed it, saying that happens among girls. I found it incredible: 15 kids felt uncomfortable at school and everybody was silencing the problem. 

Silence Covers Violence consists of a thin transparent chiffon with the word SILENCE embroidered on it, mounted on top of BULLYING embroidered in red threads. The red letters are shouting from beneath the top layer, just as the real life trauma of bullying can’t be hidden by pretending nothing is happening.

On rare occasions, I do integrate some personal experiences into a more abstract project. For example, the series Rocks. We Are Tender was born in the last months of 2020 after I heard the post-Covid stories from my relatives and friends all around the world. They were stories of the fear of getting ill and the fear of being locked in at home, stories of uncertainty for the future and stories of hope. 

I saw my dear people as rocks that managed to resist that stress, but those rocks were so fragile, so tender. The series was born out of that personal emotion, but from a formal point of view the artworks are inspired by the colours and textures of minerals and rocks that I photographed in different regions of Italy.

A taste of curating

I’m a member of the Society for Embroidered Work (SEW) and was honoured to participate in their first international show in London in 2019. Their second show was held in Rome in 2021, and I was one of the three curators. I graduated as an art historian and studied curating, so I was curious to see what would come out of that new art experience. 

I proposed the theme Surface and Depth since people mostly imagine a decorative surface when they hear of embroidery. So I asked our artists to submit either 3D projects or interesting examples of surface design in embroidery. All three curators were amazed by the outcome. We had sculptures, installations and various draped artworks – even an embroidered paint brush and an embroidery panel made from an aluminium can. The show was a huge success with people coming to explore the infinite possibilities of contemporary embroidery and textile art.

For that show, I started Hidden Treasures. It’s my most important installation to date and one I’m continuing to work on.

Future plans

I’m fortunate to have been brought up in a family that comprised six different ethnicities and four different religions. But I’m afraid there’s a lot of misunderstanding and violence towards people of other cultures because of a lack of learning about them. It’s the same with art. 

In 2022, I was supposed to take part in a group show in Paris, and I was supposed to have a personal show in Amsterdam and many group projects in Italy. When the military operation in Ukraine broke out, that same day I got many emails and phone calls from gallerists and curators. Basically, everybody was saying the same thing: ‘I appreciate your work so much, but you are Russian and I’m afraid to exhibit you’. 

I’ve experienced scenes like arriving at my local shop only to be greeted with shouting: ‘Out, out, no Russians here!’. I’ve experienced the partial blocking of my bank account because I was Russian, and it took a few months to unblock it. I didn’t feel like making any plans after that.

As an artist and as a person, I’m for life, because it’s the highest gift a human being has. Every life is precious and it’s my wish that people would appreciate that more. Respect for another’s life has to be a personal choice for each of us.

“I just know one thing: I’m an artist, art is my life, and I will go on with my work. I’m working on Hidden Treasures, also working on the second piece of a new series inspired by the shamanistic shields, and I’m already planning the next series after that.”

Today, she continues to use stitched textiles to assert her beliefs. Through her art she reflects her innate interest in societal hierarchies and material culture while expressing her feminist principles and rebellious nature.

Merill’s installations and large wall hangings often examine the narratives of deconstruction, repair and regeneration. Layers of fabric embellished with paint, dye, stitch and text explore common human concerns, like mending and endurance, and both historical and contemporary women’s roles. 

By using repurposed materials Merill throws the spotlight on environmental sustainability. But her strong attraction to worn textiles is also linked to the hidden histories they hold and the importance of textiles in our lives. Each unpicked garment or fragment of domestic linen contains the touch of all those who created and used it. Through the collaging and piecing of these soft and tactile materials, discover how Merill tells meaningful stories and makes connections with the past.

Essential textiles

What is it about textiles that makes you want to work with them?

Merill Comeau: Textiles evidence our cultures, socioeconomics, and challenges of global sustainability. They are an essential element of our daily lives: we are swaddled when born, we sleep in linens, we clothe our bodies, and we mark life’s passages with ritual garments and fabrics.

“Working with textiles provides a concrete and sensual engagement with the material world.”

I like being surrounded by inspirational textiles. Aged fifteen, I purchased a decrepit, antique Chinese embroidery made of blue silk threads on deep red wool, which I meticulously restored. I continue to collect fabrics such as 1950s abstract bark cloth, samples of crewel on linen, crazy quilts, contemporary Dutch wax African fabrics and geometric woven rugs.

To convey narratives of mending and endurance, I employ worn fabrics of the domestic sphere and the mark making of stitch. Ninety percent of my materials are repurposed – my mother-in-law’s blouse, a stained tablecloth, discontinued designer prints – each textile communicates identity, reveals lives lived and embodies memory.  

I enjoy the working processes of textiles. I make marks using dye, stitched resist or block printing, followed by construction, fabric manipulation, seaming and repair. Further decoration is achieved through embroidery, appliqué and embellishment. I compost, paint, print and rust my source fabrics, transforming them into my own visual language by creating a new, varied surface. 

When I stitch using needle and thread – a repetitive, meditative act – I am connected to thousands of years of textile traditions and to a contemporary community of makers telling stories of our complex world.

Are there particular topics or themes that inspire your work?

My landscape work is inspired by nature and observing the change of seasons in New England. Plantlife is an apt metaphor for our lifecycle: plants sprout, bloom, wilt, and return to the earth to bloom again. For me, portraying the profuse vegetation of local trails and gardens symbolises a complex world where we are bombarded with information. 

I use the formal elements of landscape painting as a structure to help me puzzle through and arrange hundreds of disparate snippets into a unified scene. I keep my focus close to the ground, as in a worm’s eye view, representing our relationship to the power of our environment. 

My abstract work is informed by trauma, mending and healing. I am inspired by resilience. At times, words and pictures fail to express narratives of confronting challenges, surviving difficulties and emerging in a new, stronger self. Colourful fabrics and stitched marks give a visual voice to human experience – including the joy of thriving. 

I draw on what has come before by researching and viewing historical textiles. I see continuity across centuries of change at the same time as I anticipate continued rapid change in modern life.

“Applying traditional techniques in new ways and abstracting traditional decorative motifs gives me a visual vocabulary to take part in a long process of women telling stories about their lives.”

How do you develop ideas and plan your work?

Research is integral to my creative process. I prioritise time to read books and do online research to broaden my knowledge and understand a variety of topics and art. Much of my learning about ideas, history and current events is accessed through the written word. I consider it my job to translate these words through my personal lens into visual communication. 

There are times when words fail to capture and express the human experience. Art fulfils the impulse to document our existence and stimulates connecting conversations about the world around us.

In terms of planning, I don’t use sketchbooks to draw an imagined finished work, or for creating drawn instructions to follow, but I do keep several sketchbooks for a variety of purposes. For example, one is filled with images that inspire the abstract printing blocks I use to create my own patterned fabrics. 

Another is full of inspirational photos of nature, to assist me when I’m creating work using nature as a symbol of our life cycle. I have an ‘ideas’ sketchbook for self-reflective writing, brainstorming notes, title ideas and phrases I want to remember.

“Using sketchbooks helps me keep track of thoughts and flesh out ideas. Their content enhances my design process and helps me develop the conceptual underpinnings of my work.”

An example is Archive of Specimens, an ongoing contemplation on absence and presence. I’m a collector of tidbits of nature, representing places and people I’ve visited, as well as my wonder at the natural world. On my studio shelves are seed pods, nuts, berries, feathers and rocks: items intrinsically holding memory, meaning and beauty. My ‘souvenirs’ of flora and fauna mark a moment in my, and their, existence. 

I rendered these elements in pencil on paper, then translated the drawn image with thread onto painted fabric. I cut out these meditations and layered them on backgrounds not their own, for example, a pine cone illustration stitched to a background with a cut-out hole that was once the shape of a shell. The tiers of mismatched solids, voids and shadows express the mysteries of life and my sadness at impending loss. Research about the current challenges of managing natural history museum collections and the Victorian practice of collecting specimens from nature influenced this documentation of my own collection.

An emotional dialogue

Tell us some more about your process, from conception to conclusion.

I tend to work in series, although I don’t always know in advance what the link will be between works. The conceptual underpinning becomes evident over time, and then I build upon the discovered and identified theme. Looking back, I can see I’ve often worked in three-year blocks.

My first source of inspiration is usually autobiographical, the next sphere of influence comes from my surrounding community of family, friends and students, followed by my awareness and understanding of issues and experiences that bind us as human beings.

At the start of every series, I find I have something I need to say or an issue to puzzle through. This results in an emotional dialogue with the world, created through visual means.

In the midst of a series, I continue to write, and sometimes draw and paint, to flesh out and illustrate components of history and narrative. Phrases from my writing may be incorporated into the work through titles, stencils or stitches. Drawing, painting and textile work happens in tandem. 

An example is Fond Memories of Good Company, created in response to the isolation of the pandemic. Snippets of textiles saved from my dining room and kitchen evidenced a previous life of cooking and eating with others. As I drew on memory and articulated my longings, I rendered kitchen implements and tableware surrounded by stitched check marks, referencing past shared meals. 

After researching Boston’s history of women painting on china, once one of the only respectable sources of income for women, I studied the china handed down from my relatives. Large stencils of their patterns help me to express connections between women who came before and how I live today. 

Could you explain why you are drawn to making large scale works and installations, and how you approach large works?

One of the interesting things about postmodern art is the way the works come off the wall and engage all the surfaces of spaces. This changes the viewers’ experience – they are enveloped and/or encased in art that is larger than their bodies. 

In my installations, I refer to domestic spaces, and large collections of elements are gathered into spaces the size of a residential room. I also make large wall hangings that stand alone. This is the scale with which I am most comfortable.

I like the way that making these artworks requires me to use my whole body. The result expresses our experience of the power of our surroundings. 

It is important for artists to identify the scale at which they are most comfortable. To experiment, I suggest starting small and increasing the dimensions in successive efforts, learning new construction methods with increasing magnitude. One approach I use is to create a collection of smaller components, which are combined into one large final work.

What or who were your early influences, and how has your upbringing influenced your work?

My grandmother and mother sewed clothes. I grew up occasionally using a home sewing machine and picked up skills in a traditional home economics class. But I also fought hard against my family’s gendered beliefs, like girls needed to learn to cook – the kitchen felt like a traditional restrictive woman’s sphere, and I didn’t want to be there. 

I rebelled against expectations, finding expression through sewing and fashion. I wore men’s clothes and altered garments to express my quirks. I bought vintage clothes and personalised contemporary pieces with paint and embroidery. 

I sought out influences aligned with my feminist beliefs. I saw the feminist work The Dinner Party by Judy Chicago when it first toured the US, and the idea of taking back traditional women’s crafts and using them to tell stories in a new way inspired me. The table settings honouring women in history really spoke to me. It was a revolutionary and radical domestic reference. 

Learning about Judy Chicago and Miriam Schapiro’s Womanhouse project opened my eyes to the possibility of a woman’s sphere that encouraged questions, evaluation, and the critique of norms.

My degree is in social theory and political economy, and I’m interested in the ways we organise human society and what our material culture communicates about our values.

“Textile history and feminist theory are a rich source for learning, reflection and inspiration.”

In my strong palette, all-over imagery, and hanging of loose fabric on the wall, I owe a debt to the Pattern and Decoration Movement. In my use of recycled clothing and sewing construction, I pay homage to the history of women patching together salvaged bits of cloth to make quilts. My conceptual base continues to express my feminism and evaluative nature.

Woman Interrupted

Tell us about a favourite artwork…

As most of my materials are donated, I often find another person’s stitches on linens and garments. In my stash I found a donated tablecloth with printed crewelwork design lines. An unknown previous owner had begun embroidering with beige wool on beige linen but must have been interrupted as the project was abandoned. 

I researched the Asian, European and American influences that developed crewelwork decorative preferences and designs. I decided to ‘complete’ the project by embroidering large colourful stitches surrounding the incomplete elements. Colour choices and stitch style reflect my contemporary tastes. 

An inherited piece of family crewel embroidery provided additional inspiration. I created stencils inspired by its design of pomegranates and flowers. These simplified and abstracted inked elements, related to my history, populate the open areas of the cloth. The work is titled Woman Interrupted. While making it, I felt connected to women known and unknown, to varied domestic spheres, and felt that I was bringing history into modernity.

Would you share a little about your community projects?

In addition to my solo studio practice, I work with community groups, young adults and college students to create collaborative works of art. I’m committed to the use of visual expression as a way of telling stories, transmitting knowledge and teaching values. I offer workshops exploring individual identity and shared group missions. 

Often groups wish to develop further and express their purpose to a wider world. I lead participants through a series of activities exploring their unique characteristics and opinions. Following exercises helps the group to identify what they have in common. These art projects provide opportunities for participants to work out ideas and translate what they have learned into visual representations. 

Past projects have included working with young people to make collaborative wall hangings expressing their experiences in the Massachusetts court system while residing in treatment residences. And I regularly work with multi-generational spiritual communities to create fabric collages that explore and express family life and values. 

In 2020, the Art Lab at Boston’s Institute of Art hosted my participatory project Threads of Connection, in which visitors created symbolic self-portraits to explore the diversity of museum visitors. In addition to helping people grow and learn, the impact of my students’ experiences and my observations of the wider human family provide me with rich inspiration.

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.