Rachna’s practice begins with the quiet act of noticing – the texture of bark, the curve of a seed pod, the subtle hues of grasses underfoot – as well as her own emotional response to the natural world.

For Rachna, each walk is a meditative experience. It’s a moment to absorb the mood and emotion of the landscape. Her materials, often gathered on her walks, guide her. They whisper possibilities shaped, in turn, by words, imagery and poetry. Together, they become the warp and the weft of her visual language: one that captures the wonder of the natural world.

Rachna Garodia: My intricately woven textures are like viewing a landscape. I’m capturing the atmosphere, tone and emotion felt on my daily walks. 

The starting point for my work has always been exploring materials, bringing unexpected textures together in a warp. I juxtapose cotton, linen, silk, nettle, hemp and wool with found materials such as paper, bark, seed pods and twigs. 

When I weave, I lose all sense of time. I get totally immersed in the craft, and day and night merge together as one. I find weaving’s rhythmic and repetitive nature meditative and calming.

Every piece of work is unique and bespoke. Each one takes shape slowly in my studio in west London and is later crafted into screens, space dividers and framed textile art.

Cultivating possibilities

I’ve always had to balance the challenge of being a mother-of-two with the fact that weaving is a slow craft. When my children were younger and I needed to work all hours to meet deadlines for shows and commissions, I used to spill out of the studio into all corners of our home.

However, rather than being a hindrance, this constraint added an interesting element to my practice. I started enjoying weaving small collections on paper and on little portable frames. 

I love the challenge of switching between locations and various types of looms and scale of work. 

“Mixing things up keeps my mind abuzz with new ideas, possibilities and helps in cultivating beginner’s mind.”

Rachna Garodia, weaver and textile artist

Explorations on the loom

I’m exploring two themes constantly in my work. One is the beauty of quietude and silence that I find in nature while on my daily walks. The other is the duality of my lived life in India and the UK.

I develop my ideas using mood boards. I’ll combine photos taken on my walks with yarns and poetry or words that resonate with the theme. I find written words spark imagery that lingers within me and so naturally keeps me in a state of creative flow.

No rules weaving

I source my yarns for weaving from all over the world. I love all types of threads and I’ll often chance upon interesting and inspiring materials in car boot sales and charity shops. 

Daily walks provide a lot of natural materials like twigs, leaves and other finds. I clean and prepare these for weaving by drying and varnishing them.

When I’m starting a new project, I find it freeing to use a variety of materials like paper, yarns, fabric strips, leaves and grasses as there are no rules.

When there are no rules there’s no fear of making a mistake and getting it wrong. The key is to have fun and keep playing and experimenting till you find a method that feels right for you.

“It is liberating to just be led by the materials one is using, rather than trying to lead the material.”

Rachna Garodia, weaver and textile artist

Working process 

My mum used to be a very quick and intuitive knitter, I never saw her following a pattern from a book. She had it all in her head. She inspires me and once I’ve planned my colours and materials I also work intuitively, but on the loom. 

Sometimes I have a few guiding shapes sketched out, but I tend to do my own thing. I mostly use a combination of plain weave, twill (a weave with a diagonal pattern) and soumak (where the weft threads are wrapped around the warps).

Because I’m naturally intuitive rather than a ‘step-by-step’ person, developing my Stitch Club workshop was quite entertaining. I got to see a different side of myself as I really had to pause and break down each step of the process. 

Perfecting my craft

I was introduced to weaving aged nineteen while doing my Bachelor programme. I found it magical – how a simple arrangement of threads on even a recycled piece of cardboard could result in patterns. That feeling of magic has never left me. 

Later on, I trained as a textile designer at the National Institute of Design in Ahmedabad, India. There I was taught more complicated weaves together with the aesthetics of design, under the tutelage of my professors Mrs Aditi Ranjan and Mr Kurma Rao. 

This was an influential time for me. Erroll Pires Nelson, one of my design school professors, whose hands were always busy with cotton ropes and engrossed in his ply split braiding, continues to be a lifelong inspiration.

I started my art practice in 2000, with a small loom on the dining table in a tiny apartment in the suburbs of Mumbai. I began freelancing and working with various architects and interior designers, weaving a number of interesting commissions. 

My personal life, however, brought a few pauses in my creative journey – namely, having babies and moving to multiple countries. I moved from India to London in 2006, and then to Dubai in 2014, before finally making a second home in London in 2016. 

Throughout these years of settling in different homes and raising kids, I had a compulsion to create. I always travelled with my first loom, which is very dear to me, so I continued to weave wherever I was living. 

From shuttle to needle

The rhythmic taps of the loom, which had always been so reassuring for me, made it difficult to weave beside my babies, so I turned to hand embroidery. I attended the Royal School of Needlework in London to learn technical hand embroidery. 

The softness and calmness of embroidery felt natural with young children around. When weaving wasn’t possible, I designed and embroidered quilts and cushions. Gradually, I started showing my pieces in exhibitions and shows and slowly gained a rhythm and flow in my work.

So far I’ve not combined weaving and embroidery in one piece but it is something I’ve long wanted to do. Only now have I been able to make space to take my time experimenting. And I’m working on some new and exciting concepts where both techniques find a way to complement each other in one art piece.

“I learn so much by being around creative people from multiple disciplines.” 

Rachna Garodia, weaver and textile artist

Creative collectives

When I finally moved my practice from home to a studio in 2017, life altered immeasurably. As well as getting a dedicated space to work outside of my home, at last I met my tribe of artists and makers that I’d not previously been acquainted with in London. 

I’m part of Pollen Collective, a group of multidisciplinary artists. Brainstorming various ways of problem solving, crit sessions and so many meaningful and joyous collaborations have come out of being part of a creative community. 

Recently I’ve been lucky enough to have the opportunity to move my studio to a refurbished barn in the beautiful and historic grounds at Chiswick House and Gardens, London. 

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.

Vintage tulle veils and laces feature strongly in Vinny’s art, perfectly expressing the transience of time and remembrance. Screen printing, digital imagery and other mixed media elements add dimension and texture. 

Vinny also has a passion for the impermanence of nature, especially the coastline plants on her beloved Mersea Island. She places the focus on intertidal flora, including sea holly, purslane, and shrubby and annual sea-blite – plants that take centre stage in the struggle to protect fragile beaches from erosion. 

Enjoy this look into Vinny’s dreamlike work. It gently reminds us that time waits for no one.

“Cloth, that old silent companion of the human race, has always kept special company with artists.”

Mildred Constantine & Laurel Reuter, Whole Cloth

Sheer emotions

Vinny Stapley: I mostly work with transparent or sheer fabrics. The familiar feel of the finest silk tulle veiling and antique lace reminds me of working for a wedding dress designer when I first came to London.

I also find that fabrics received from family become memory banks of my personal history. And found items of textiles and clothing make me wonder about the origins and lives of those who first had them. What stories do they tell me?

I especially enjoy using these vintage finds or making delicately constructed web-like veils. I’ll use a combination of layers of different processes and will sometimes add old photographs or text to develop the narrative of a piece.

Silk, cotton organdie and tulles are my go-to fabrics. For my seascapes, I have also used calico, linen and canvas. 

Veils are especially fascinating to me, as they can express a variety of contradictory concepts such as youthful innocence, alluring beauty and fading or blemished beauty.

Sheer fabrics can be very tricky to work with, so sometimes I’ll add a dissolvable embroidery stabiliser. Otherwise, it’s a matter of confidence. After years of working with delicate materials, I’ve learned how to use a firm, yet gentle hand, smoothing and stretching as I go.

“Veils can be intriguing, secretive, feminine, mournful, hopeful and respectful.”

Vinny Stapley, Textile artist

Memento Mori

I’m fascinated by the concept of memento mori, a Latin phrase that reminds us about death’s inevitability and the fleeting nature of earthly pleasures. To that end, fragility and delicacy play key roles in my work. I especially admire the brittle beauty of age-distressed vintage laces and delicate tulles. 

I remember watching Great Expectations as a young girl and being intrigued by Miss Havisham’s faded beauty and grandeur. I began to see a correlation between those fabrics, the fragility of memory, and human nature. 

I’m also intrigued by perceptions of women’s fragility and the vulnerable and darker sides of femininity. For example, my installation Arachne’s Metaphor was inspired by the Greek myth of Arachne who was turned into a spider and doomed to weave for eternity by the jealous goddess Athena.

This research led to my investigations of the extraordinary stories of ordinary women and the threads of life that connect them. I collected stories of female relatives who struggled to survive and further their families in the face of what society, governments and the patriarchy expected of and imposed upon them. 

Those ordinary women metamorphosed into stronger beings who survived by their wits and talents, weaving their own webs and creating foundations for their lives. 

Family secrets

In addition to notions of fragility, much of my work explores the link between family history and the legacy it can have on the living.   

We not only acquire physical attributes, talents and skills from our ancestors, but we also inherit our family’s tragedies, heartbreaks and hardships. Those events can leave their own genetic imprint on our personality.

I explore the impact that family secrets can have on subsequent generations. I’m both horrified and fascinated by the way previous generations have behaved. The perceived shame brought upon the family, according to social customs at the time, caused people to bury truths and treat their loved ones most cruelly, in the name of respectability. 

To represent the burying of family secrets and their shame, I layer delicate materials (often family fabrics or lace) and incorporate faded imagery and mixed media. The various textures become distressed and more fragile, representing how our memories become harder to read and more difficult to recall over time.

“Subsequent generations can find themselves shocked by the discovery of these secrets and their effect on family dynamics.” 

Vinny Stapley, Textile artist

Creative sampling

Inspiration can be varied. Sometimes I’ll have a bit of a vision and work backwards from there. Other times I start with a topic or theme for an exhibition, and then research and write down concepts and ideas. Mind mapping helps, and observational drawing is an essential part of my practice. 

Once I have a topic in mind, I’ll widely research that idea and document what I discover as a visual language in my sketchbooks. I then gather or dye up all the fabrics, threads and components I think I’ll use. 

I create samples by screen printing, machine stitch and hand embroidery. I’m also increasingly using Photoshop to develop imagery and design visualisations. Responding to these samples, I’ll sketch out some compositional studies and then go on to develop slightly larger prototypes before making the final piece.

“I explore and interrogate materials, techniques and concepts through sampling.”

Vinny Stapley, Textile artist

Tulle memory discs

In my Stitch Club workshop, I teach some of my techniques so that members create an atmospheric and personal embroidered memory disc on tulle. 

Choosing a special moment in time, memory, person or place, they can incorporate delicate distressed fabrics and memento mori such as old family photos, paper, fabrics and embroidered motifs that connect to their theme. Stitching is also used as embellishment. 

Importance of a colour palette

Creating a colour palette is fundamental to everything. It sets the mood, feel and emotion which helps link to the concept behind the piece.

At the moment, my favourite colour palette is very desaturated and chalk-coloured. It’s mostly naturals and neutrals, to present a vintage feel and help describe the passage of time, women’s stories and femininity.

My advice for learning how to choose a colour palette is to find a painting or a page from a garden or fashion magazine that you think expresses a certain feeling or particular mood. Then get a paint chart from a DIY store and pick out six colours from that image: one deep, two mid, two light, as well as one colour that will pop.

You can then create a mood board using fabrics, threads and paint, mixed and matched to the shades you selected. You might also incorporate found materials. 

“I always like to throw in a colour pop – it can be minimal but it performs the important task of creating balance.”

Vinny Stapley, Textile artist

Mindful stitching

Stitch is such an emotive medium. It can echo the rhythmic nature of the sea’s ebb and flow or mimic a range of emotions. Stitching is a meditative, immersive and mindful process where ideas evolve as the work progresses. 

Machine embroidery is my go-to passion. I love the contrast of edginess and the linear fluidity of the stitched line. 

I can easily become lost and mesmerised as my body connects to the machine. There’s a kind of ‘syncretism’ (an attempted reconciliation or union of) different or opposing principles. 

When it comes to hand stitching, I prefer the authenticity of using simple stitches, such as the running and seed stitch. I’m also very partial to traditional tailors’ tacking stitches, and I really love a French knot.  

I mainly use vintage threads for hand stitching. 

“My screen printed fabrics serve as a great stimulus to get my creative juices flowing.”

Vinny Stapley, Textile artist

Blue Peter & Bunsen burners

Vinny Stapley: I’ve always sewn and used fabrics to make things from a very young age. We had plenty of fabric and dressing-up clothes around our house, as my mother made and knitted nearly everything we wore. There was very little available to buy, growing up in the Highlands.

I also adored the BBC children’s TV show Blue Peter, especially the ‘makes’, and was always trying to copy them. But I had to use what we had to hand, which made me experiment and invent (not always successfully). 

I was lucky to have inspiring art teachers in high school. They viewed textiles as a fine art medium. One teacher saw that I naturally gravitated to textiles. She encouraged me to experiment with a range of embroidery stitches to create final exam pieces. And she taught me how to create natural dyes in the art department’s stock cupboard using a Bunsen burner! 

Another wonderful teacher taught me to screen print, and I was immediately hooked. I loved the process and how I could achieve a range of very different outcomes.

Music & fashion

I took up a place at Edinburgh School of Art after leaving high school, but I decided to leave and move to London. I joined various bands, and after gaining practical experience working in a small, bespoke wedding dress design studio, I had the opportunity to become a wardrobe technician for touring bands.

Later, I became a production assistant for touring recording artists. I travelled extensively and gained lots of experience working with a whole range of different materials, from studded leather to beaded Bob Mackie gowns.

I stopped travelling when my family came along and I began making bespoke special occasion wear and costumes.

“I had a sense of unfinished business and missed art, so I started taking some art courses.”

Vinny Stapley, Textile artist

Creativity & life balance

While attending some art courses, tutors encouraged me to complete an Art Foundation. Following this, I gained a place in the Printed Textiles degree course at Middlesex University (London, UK), continuing to combine my screen printing with embroidery.

After my degree, a large London studio offered me a job as a textile designer specialising in embroidery. Following this, I went on to work freelance for a textile agent.

I loved the creativity, but as a parent, I found it hard to create a successful work-life balance. I decided to complete a teacher-training degree and went on to teach art in large London comprehensive schools.

It wasn’t until the children left home, and my husband and I moved to Mersea Island in Essex, that I decided to take the plunge and develop my career as an artist. I started with open studios, public and private commissions, and artist residencies in schools. I eventually built up to having a larger studio and offering workshops.

Print inspiration

I love direct screen printing techniques, where you place the pigments directly on the screen. It’s like painting, and I use these printed pieces as a base for adding further layers of appliqué, as well as machine and hand embroidery. I may also add photo stencil printing in layers.

Wax resist is also a technique that lends itself well to working with textiles. I’ll maybe start with some drawing with a candle or oil pastel and then add dyes or inks. Sometimes I let layers of paint or gesso dry before adding drawing inks or fabric dyes.

I also work with charcoal or graphite or even a fine line pen, before adding inks, dyes or watercolours.

Mersea Florilegium

I created Mersea Florilegium in response to my concern about Mersea Island’s eroding coastlines. I see daily evidence of rising sea levels that wash away whole chunks of coastline. My work highlights the importance of the plants within the intertidal zone, such as sea purslane and shrubby sea-blite, that help mesh the delicate coastline. 

This collection started by studying the flora on the shores of Mersea Island during the various lockdowns. I made observational drawings and learned about the ecology of the salt marsh. I charted all the locations of sea holly on the island. A year later, I discovered that many had disappeared.

I also made sketches exploring the fine root networks of the plants. These help to stabilise the fragile coastline against the incursions of the sea.

“My research inspired an installation featuring a collection of semi-transparent hanging disks focusing on plants I observed on my lockdown walks.” 

Vinny Stapley, Textile artist

In this installation, the ethereal, lens-like discs move kinetically, reflecting my thoughts and occasionally zooming in on abstracted moments in time. It’s meant to be a celebration of the visual, cerebral and the cellular. 

I focused on purslane and sea holly and developed delicate web-like hanging gossamer veils. I became aware of the commonality between the plant roots and the digital connections forged among family and friends that sustain us through times of separation. 

Within the layers, I incorporated strips of binary code symbolising these connections, and I embroidered words representing the locations of the sea holly plants on the island. 

Intertidal ecosystems

In keeping with my fascination with memento mori, Sea Holly Memento Mori II features the sea holly plant that lines our coastline and collected fragments of lace; forgotten pieces of women’s painstaking handiwork found in my collection. They symbolise the fragility of life and ecology.

The sea holly’s ability to thrive amidst coastal erosion and human intervention is powerful. Historically it was harvested for its sweet root, an important commodity in the time of James I. 

Machine-embroidered layers of mixed media webs with fragments of old lace symbolise the delicately balanced ecosystem of flora in the intertidal zone.

Mythical stitching

Arachne’s Metaphor and the Dark Island hanging are part of a single installation that was initially inspired by the Greek myth about Athena and Arachne. The jealous goddess Athena turns Arachne into a spider who is doomed to weave for eternity. 

That myth led me to consider stories of ordinary women, including my mother, who struggled to survive and nurture their families in the wake of patriarchal systems imposed upon them.

After posting about my mother’s story on Instagram, I received similar stories from family and friends, which inspired a series of filigree lace-framed icon pictures commemorating the women. 

The imagery connects to the women’s sometimes painful stories through the use of desaturated, delicate sheer layers and hangings. The icons also incorporate archive photography, vintage textiles, and stitch techniques relating to the women’s stories, such as sashiko and carrickmacross. 

The framed icon pictures are connected by delicate webs that stretch out and connect the women’s lives across time and space. Fragments of old clothes and household linens symbolise the strands of their lives, interwoven with silk fibres and printed extracts of their stories. 

Monika is known for her embroidered thread paintings and her hand stitched yarn paintings. Into these, she instils her sense of place, alongside personal moments of joy and discovery.

She has a passion for exploring and capturing the land and sky around her. It’s with fascination that she beholds the light and movement in the landscape.

And she studies all this with a stitcher’s eye. For Monika, grasses are threads and leaves are ribbons.

It’s with verve and dexterity that she stitches, capturing the movement of the wind as it passes through the natural grasslands. It’s with all her body’s senses that she translates the changing light of day using different thread sheens and textures. And it’s with her heart that she creates impressionistic textile art inspired by the land that she loves.

Endless inspiration

Tell us about the subject matter that most inspires you.

Monika Kinner: I was born on the Canadian Prairie, and raised outside by an artist and refugee who immigrated to Canada. I have a deep connection to, and respect for, this land that holds and supports me.

My subject matter is quite specific to the Meewasin River Valley. Meewasin is Cree for ‘it is beautiful’. The Meewasin is an area of stewarded land over 100km (62 miles) long, encompassing both sides of the South Saskatchewan River, part of which runs through the city of Saskatoon in which I live.

This river system is a major migration route for North American birds, and the land contains some of the last remaining unbroken Prairie which are home to precious flora and fauna. The location offers four distinct seasons, beautiful open sunsets and sunrises, and year round views of aurora borealis and the moon.

I feel incredibly fortunate to have all of this so close at hand. Honestly, I do not bother to travel far at all – the inspiration here is endless.

“I’m a self-taught, land-based Prairie artist, who, like my mother before me, chose to create a career and support my family by doing what I love.”

Monika Kinner, Textile artist

From photos to drawing

How do you develop your textile art? Tell us a bit about your process.

I begin with my camera. I take a lot of photos – perhaps too many. I feel so inspired whenever I’m outside.

Beauty is everywhere.

It can be a walk past an overgrown lot, or a stroll by the river. It can be one little bud on the branch of a tree or the way the morning light comes in the window.

At times, I will jump right in and start stitching. Other times I will play around with the photos. I’ll view and review, working with various cropped versions to see what new compositions can be discovered in a single photo. I can always find plenty of inspiration in one photograph.

Once I have a collection of ‘winners’, I will often compile them into a folder. From there, I’ll sit down and create preliminary sketches from them.

“I practise drawing out the shapes to really get to know them before I begin stitching.”

Monika Kinner, Textile artist

I find the most fantastic media to be coloured pencils or oil pastels on black paper. They pop with colour and always excite, often resulting in more vivid memories and patterns than the original image offered.

These drawings give me terrific subject matter to stitch from. In fact, I often file away the original photos and only work from the drawings. They serve as the patterns. Sometimes, they are so fresh and fun that I feel that no one needs to see the original.

Painting with threads

When I create my thread paintings, I begin by selecting background fabrics: usually one for the sky and one or two for the land. Then I stitch, using free-motion machine embroidery with my straight stitch, non-computerized, mid-arm, high-shank Juki sewing machine. I manually move the cloth under the needle in order to create my own stitches.

I’m able to situate my machine sideways and have a perfect view of my work as I stitch. I turn my work sideways too to manually zig and zag my straight stitches.

I’ll change threads often, like a painter dips the brush into a new colour, to achieve the look I need. I stitch directionally, emulating fine brush strokes or pencil lines with my thread.

When it comes to stitching the foregrounds for these pieces, hand stitching wins. I feel that some things simply can’t be emulated with the mechanical sewing machine.

As I fill a space with tiny hand stitches, it’s as if a timelapse of plant growth springs forth from my needle. This process brings me neverending joy. It’s like I’m holding a piece of my beloved prairie in my hands.

“The tactile nature of the fibres brings the prairie flora to life.”

Monika Kinner, Textile artist

Tactile yarn stitching

My yarn embroideries are entirely hand stitched onto felt canvas.

For me, these deeply personal, impressionistic displays of the prairie have a more intimate feel.

I create them in a painterly manner using variegated hand dyed yarns from around the world. Each stitch appears like a brushstroke of blended paint, and I build the scenes with thousands of straight stitches of varying lengths, covering the entire background.

I frame my thread paintings under glass with double or floating mount boards in the same way traditional embroidery is preserved and displayed. My yarn embroideries are more tactile and so I frame those without glass.

The art of choosing threads

What fabrics and threads do you use in your work?

For thread paintings, I use any regular weight thread. I’m looking for the right colour and I’m not fussy about brands. If Sulky doesn’t have it, Gütermann might. If King Tut doesn’t, Wonderfil may.

A perfect canola yellow was made by Trident but I can’t find it anymore. The fibre, whether polyester, cotton or a blend, doesn’t matter to me – they tend to appear the same to the eye. And once they’re made into art, they aren’t going to be washed and worn so anything goes.

If I’m wanting a sheen, then I’ll use rayon or a sparkly holographic thread. It really depends on what I’m stitching.

My bobbin thread is always 80 weight poly Decobob by Wonderfil. When I stitch, this bobbin thread doesn’t show. It is invisible and because it’s so fine, it creates no bulk on the backside. This is very helpful when mounting my work. Finally, because of the fine thread, it holds an incredible amount on the bobbin, so I can sew for a long time before running out.

When I work with yarns it can be any type of yarn – wool (alpaca, bison, merino), silk, linen/flax, poly, cotton or tencel. I may add beads or threads for interest or detail. Generally, I prefer yarns that are worsted and not cotton, because they have some give to them.

Hand dyed or hand painted yarns are just gorgeous. If you’d like me to name-drop, I’d say Noro and Malabrigo yarns are my favourites. And I’ll advocate for handmade – shop local first. I prefer to use brick-and-mortar shops or order online directly from yarn sellers. I do not use Amazon.

Importance of colour

Do you have a preferred colour palette? Why do these colours attract you?

That’s a great question – no one ever asks me that. Thank you! I love green, orange, yellow and a bit of purple.

I adore chartreuse. My children called it ‘ugly green’ when they were little. I call it ‘electric lettuce green’. It’s a green that is so close to the sun.

I learned that the word ‘inspire’ means to fill with breath or draw air in. That is exactly what seeing chartreuse green does for me. I also love the way greens can turn into orange, and how purples can turn into orange as well. That might not make any sense unless you’ve painted a lot of landscapes.

Isn’t it odd that I don’t really use red in my art?

Becoming impressionistic

What’s been your biggest challenge in creating your art?

I started my impressionistic technique during a period of work that was created through a provincial arts board grant. It was earlier in my career when I was feeling really stuck as a thread painter. My art looked just like a picture of the prairie but I wanted more emotion in it. I found that by using a black background and colourful yarns I could achieve that emotion.

My other challenge has been figuring out how to work big and still hold my style. My smallest works seem to be the most endearing. I’m still working on this…

“Becoming more impressionistic was the hardest thing ever – it finally happened when I began sketching on black paper and stitching with yarn.”

Monika Kinner, Textile artist

A natural childhood

What or who were your early influences?

My mother has everything to do with who I am and how I see the world. I grew up outside (back in the day when there was nothing to do in the house) between living on an acreage and a cabin at a lake. I watched the weather, the land, the seasons, the sun and the cycles of life – I lived it.

I didn’t grow up with anyone who could teach me about stitching. My play time was spent drawing. Our neighbours were art gallery owners. My mom worked en plein air (painting outdoors) and was absolutely spellbound by her surroundings.

I began quilting once I became a mother in my mid 30s. And I actually discovered textile art at the age of 40 after joining a quilt guild. Finally, I’d found my medium!

I’d never heard of textile art before. I’d taken art courses, but no one had ever used thread or fabric in any of them.

I’m purely self taught. And as soon as I began my textile art practice, I was pushed – encouraged – to teach. At this time, I really didn’t have time to think. I was teaching as fast as I was learning. Generally, I would say I’m an artist who uses thread and yarn as a medium. I’m not an embroiderer or quilter who makes art.

Recognising textiles as art

Tell us about a piece of your work that holds particularly fond memories…

The first time I had a piece juried in a regular art show alongside painters, I won first place.

It was a struggle to enter because they told me that my work didn’t belong there. I responded that it was a framed, matted and mounted landscape and so therefore it was art. It got accepted.

Today, we’re fortunate to enjoy – more and more – the recognition of textiles as art in our country.

Top tips

Do you have any tips for makers?

One pro tip I can offer is to consider the fact that yarns have different light reflecting qualities. The exact same colour in silk will shine and reflect light, whereas wool will absorb light.

For instance, if you’re stitching a dark pink background, you may want to choose wool over silk. If the same dark pink is in a feature element like flowers, then silk would be a perfect way to bring that colour forward out of the background because of the way light bounces off of it.

I’d also encourage readers not to give up on a poor quality photo. Source photos can be played with. So often, we snap a photo and then look at it later and are surprised it didn’t turn out the way we thought.

My advice is to put back into it what you remember. Turn up the contrast. Play with the light and dark. Straighten it. Add warmth. Add coolness. Crop it. Highlight it. Save as a copy. Go back to the original image and play with it some more.

“You took the photo for a reason – get that spark back by playing with the source image.”

Monika Kinner, Textile artist

But what really excites Beatrice about these sparks of inspiration is abstracting them to create rich, multi-faceted, hand embellished surfaces. Whether it’s working on an embroidery commission for our TV screens or a jewel-like piece of wearable art, sampling, collaboration and exploring processes are key.

And in her personal work, she aims to flip expectations of what embroidery can be, creating minimal textile works using maximalist techniques, as well as upcycling as many materials as she can.

Nothing, she says, is ever a waste of time. Nor can you waste materials. It’s simply a case of repurposing and re-imagining everything and discovering real creative freedom in doing so.

Beatrice has followed her heart and perfected her craft – as well as learning how to say yes to almost everything, even when she’s not sure she can do it – something we can all learn from.

Abstract marks

Beatrice Mayfield: I’m a textile artist specialising in hand constructed, embellished and embroidered textiles. I produce one-off artworks and wearable art pieces. My work combines contemporary design with a range of traditional embroidery techniques, stitches and processes. All incorporate a high level of craftsmanship.

My work is abstract and heavily inspired by the landscape of London, where I live. I’m particularly influenced by the concrete buildings of Brutalist architecture, such as the Brunswick Centre and the National Theatre, as well as urban green spaces, like Hampstead Heath and Regent’s Park.

I love the juxtaposition of architecture and nature thriving side by side. When I look at the colours and textures that can be found on raw concrete as it ages and then those in the natural landscape – on a piece of bark or lichen for example – the two are often very similar.

My work isn’t precise, but it does use contrast, texture and the idea of the hand. 

I love making work that is abstract and minimal – often the opposite of how hand embroidery and embellishment are meant to be. I also like to explore scale – how to scale up stitches or create surfaces that form entire surfaces rather simply than as decoration. And I love flowers – their structure and texture and how they are constructed.

Seeing clearly

I abstract everything. I tend to think of my work as creating surfaces, adding layers to existing surfaces and building up texture. It’s never about recording a landscape or a flower.

Looking properly is key. Seeing how a flower is constructed: how does it open, bloom, wither, and break down? The changes in colour, scale and texture really fascinate me. 

The same goes for landscapes – both the natural landscape and the built environment of London. How do they change year on year? How does that skyline change? What does that do to the sky? How do shadows change because of it? This is the type of thing I notice. 

Then I’m looking at the opposite – the micro – the surface of the pavement that I walk on every day, the changes to a wall or fence over time.

I take a lot of photos and keep them on my phone as a record. From these I create collages. I might blow something up, cut it up, overlay it, paint on it, then scan it and start all over again. 

The details come by working in stitch. My embroidery frame or hoop is my sketchbook and fabric is my paper. I work very intuitively. My work is abstract and textured.

It’s so difficult to articulate why I love what I do. It blocks out everything else, even when I’m working on a commission piece to a tight deadline.

‘When I’m stitching, I can lose hours.’

Beatrice Mayfield, Textile artist

Towards sustainability

I collect fabrics, beads, papers, threads – anything I can sew with and that will create texture or contrast. 

For the last few years, I’ve been trying to use as much deadstock or donated threads, beads and fabrics as I can. I’m probably about 60 per cent there. I tend to get deadstock fabric from the New Craft House, a store in Hackney, London, selling designer deadstock fabrics and haberdashery. 

For commissions, however, this isn’t always possible, so then I try to source natural fibres, such as linen or wool yarns. I often use yarns from the Handweavers Studio in London, as they do interesting blends and it’s close to where I live.  I love pure silk embroidery thread, especially Au Ver à Soie threads: the feel of them is beautiful and they have a great range of colours. 

I’ll use any bead, and have a huge collection. If I have to buy new then I tend to use online sources such as Creative Beadcraft, Peppy Beads or Spoilt Rotten Beads. I also like using natural materials, such as real or dried flowers or horsehair. My favourite haberdasheries are Ultramod Mercerie and the Mokuba ribbon store, both located in Paris.

Learning by making

While on my foundation course, we had a lecturer who made us tear up our work at the end of the day or draw onto a surface that would be wiped clean at the end. I learnt so much from this.

I learnt to appreciate the process of making and that the final piece isn’t necessarily the most important part. This is why sampling and trying things out is key for me – and enjoyable. 

Sometimes samples don’t work. The final pieces might not work. Cutting pieces up and then re-using them is all part of the making process. Everything comes back to looking closely.

As a maker, you have to find your voice, which can take time. Notice what grabs you: detail, texture, colour? Is your style illustrative? Do you like to tell stories? Keep exploring this. Then you work out which techniques or materials you can really exploit to help you develop this voice.

‘Don’t be precious about your work and don’t think you’ve failed if something doesn’t work the first time.’

Beatrice Mayfield, Textile artist

Playing to strengths

As an embroidered, it’s natural to collaborate and I undertake a lot of bespoke commissioned work for clients. The embroidery is normally just one element – it has to go on something, so you are often working collaboratively as part of a team. I’m often working alongside other experts, so it’s not just about doing what I want. 

As I like working to a large scale, I need help to complete projects. So, as well as working with a team of embroiderers on other projects, I’m used to people working for me. I think it really helps that I have experience doing bespoke work as well as commissioning and curating.

My major collaborator is the digital embroiderer Jacky Puzey. We met about ten years ago. I thought what she was doing with digital embroidery was amazing. It’s unique. I respect her skill level although it’s not something I’d ever want to do. She was looking to add depth to some pieces, so she spoke to me about introducing beading into her work. 

We have quite a similar approach and a huge amount of respect for each other’s work, so it’s about each playing to their skills. We’ve worked on numerous interiors, art, fashion and film projects together. 

The piece for the HBO fantasy drama ‘House of the Dragon’ came via Jacky but was very much a collaboration. Jacky is based in Bristol and I’m in London so a lot of our collaboration is done via video calls and many, many photographs.

Stitcher of dragons

The brief for the House of the Dragon piece was to create a banner that depicts the sigil – a three-headed dragon – of the ruling family. We were given the outline of the motif and told it needed to relate to and have a connection with, similar themes to the television show ‘Game of Thrones’. 

It had to measure two square metres (21½ sq. ft). At that point, they didn’t know how it would be lit and they wanted it to appear antique, as if it had been part of the family for years. Filming was taking place as we were making it and we only had three months for design, sampling and making. 

Jacky started with the illustration, sourcing dragon-like surfaces, colours, patterns and textures from past pieces. I was given the image of a key embroidery surface used in ‘Game of Thrones’ by the artist costume embroiderer Michele Carragher – this was quite intimidating as her work throughout the whole series was amazing. 

I was sent an image of a sample for one of the costumes for Daenerys – Mother of Dragons. I had to be careful not to copy it, but to use it as a reference and interpret it.

I created samples on small areas of digital embroidery – trying out colours, different types of beads, cording and edging for the wings while oxidising beads and breaking down surfaces. We had lots of conversations throughout the whole process. Jacky was digitising designs and sharing her progress every day. Then I was sampling and working on the final pieces.

I had ten days for beading the finished piece. I used a mix of beads – Tila beads, which were a reference to the sample by Michele Carragher, demi toho beads (like rings) and a variety of different sized seed beads.

I used a mix of colours. In the beginning, these were very matt, but two days from the end, the commissioners decided it would be lit by candlelight so I had to add in more reflective and shiny beads. It was very twinkly by the end – and there were even beads on the dragon’s teeth and tongues.

The wings were corded. I used a range of thicknesses to get height – from rat tails to upholstery cord, which were couched or slip stitched. The ends had to be bound as I couldn’t plunge the cord ends through Jacky’s embroidery.

Although it was just on screen for a matter of seconds, it was a lovely project and one which I think played to both our strengths and skill sets.

Finding my place

When I was small my grandmother used to make dolls’ clothes for me. I was fascinated by the French seams – as well as the handmade buttonholes. It was all about the finish and precision.

Making things was always encouraged. I learnt to sew, embroider and knit at primary school and at home. I really started to get into textiles through making my own clothes when I was in my teens. 

I’ve always been interested in the importance of place. My foundation course led to a degree in Public Art at Chelsea College of Art. There I was creating large scale constructed textile pieces, using hand printing, painting with fabric dye, free machine embroidery and hand stitch.

Although I didn’t particularly enjoy my degree, I did learn a lot about working as a team, working with clients and to commission. We undertook a lot of live projects, which meant working to deadlines and seeing work being made for existing places and sites. I also made lifelong friends there.

After graduating, I went on to work for Common Ground, a grassroots organisation connecting people with nature, on projects that celebrated the local distinctiveness of places through art. I was working on the commission side of public art, which led to curating and then working with makers to develop their careers. 

Although I was very much in the craft sector and I was always making, my own personal art practice wasn’t my main focus.

Following my heart

About 12 years ago, I realised how much I wanted my own practice back. I did a few short courses in hand embroidery to bring my skills up to scratch. I then spent a year focussing on upskilling – learning traditional stitches through courses at the Royal School of Needlework and Central Saint Martins. I also studied couture work such as tambour, beading and other techniques with Elisabeth Rouleau, a French couture embroiderer.

I loved these short courses and developing my hand embroidery skills. Coming back to learning after such a long time and being able to do something for myself was liberating. I was the one deciding what courses to do as well as learning the skills I wanted. In a way, it was a bit like designing my own MA.

By then, I knew much more about the industry and sector I wanted to work in, plus how to run a creative practice. So in some ways, I felt confident, however, I also suffer from the worst impostor syndrome!

‘Returning to my own art practice means I push myself harder and say yes to nearly everything I’m offered – even if I’m not sure I can do it.’

Beatrice Mayfield, Textile artist

“The sense of smell is the hair trigger of memory.”

Research has proven that the nose knows and remembers. The slightest hint of a familiar fragrance can take us back in time and space, and, according to Pallavi Padukone, that phenomenon is good for both wellness and wellbeing. After successfully using aromatherapy to help manage the stress of the pandemic, Pallavi decided to turn the fragrance industry on its head by creating ‘olfactory art’.

Pallavi’s tapestries and embroideries are literally fragrant. She weaves and stitches with yarns and threads soaked in naturally derived scents like jasmine, rose, and sandalwood. She also dyes her materials with Indian herbs and spices including safflower, chilli and turmeric. Pattern, colour, texture and scent combine to recreate memories of Pallavi’s childhood in southern India.

Pallavi continues to finetune her techniques and expand her library of scents, but she has generously taken a moment to offer us an insight into her current process and techniques. 

We wish we could offer you a scratch-and-sniff option while reading about her work, but we promise you’ll still be delighted to learn about her inventive art that tantalises both the nose and the eye.

Pallavi Padukone: I was exposed to different forms of art from an early age. My mother is a graphic designer and used to work at a gallery in Bangalore, India. Growing up, I’d often visit her at work. I was also enrolled in a weekend art class led by one of the artists.

One of my first experiences involving textiles was at a school tie-dye workshop. It was the first time I’d played around with dyeing fabrics.

I also have fond memories of my grandmother teaching me how to embroider. I sat with her in the evenings, and she would patiently show me different embroidery stitches and knots. She also made me a little guide to help me practise.

I studied textile design during my undergraduate education in India. I decided to specialise in textiles because working with my hands came naturally to me. An exchange semester for a fibre art course in Gothenburg, Sweden, really opened my eyes to how complex textiles can be.

I learnt how to view fibres and fabrics with a conceptual lens. I fell in love with using textiles as an art medium after experimenting with different techniques and meeting many interesting people in the field.

I later studied at the Parsons School of Design, New York, where I focused on integrating scent and textiles, using fragrance as a form of embellishment.

Connecting to culture & place

All the materials I use in my work are chosen for their sensorial qualities. There’s a connection to landscape, place and time that is woven into each work’s backstory.

I integrate hand-spun recycled sari silk mixed with scent-coated cotton for my weaves and embroider on silk organza. I retain the existing jewelled colours the silks are sourced in. I am drawn to the way the sheer fabrics interact with light to visually evoke the ephemeral experience of fragrance.

My work is guided by culture and craft, and I believe in the philosophy of respecting the artisanal, the sustainable and the slow.

“I often use nature as my muse for colour, patterns, and materials.”

Pallavi Padukone, Olfactory artist

My Indian heritage also constantly informs my textile art. Textiles are so deeply rooted in India’s history – their richness and craft inform both my approach and design sensibilities for patterns, motifs, techniques and colour.

My use of colour comes intuitively from sights, my surrounding landscape and imagined memories. I can be inspired by something as simple as certain shades of flowers at a market or an interesting colour-blocked sari I spy someone wearing.

Olfactory art

The idea of using fragrance for its therapeutic qualities and its connection to nostalgia and memory resonates with me.

My initial source of inspiration was the calming effect a small pouch of lavender provided while cooped up in my apartment during the 2020 lockdown.That prompted me to explore scents for wellness and how they could be visually expressed through colour, pattern and texture.

As part of my research, I conducted surveys to record the relationship people have with fragrance and their link to memory, emotion, visual imagery, colour and texture.

I then considered how fragrant yarn itself could open doors to possibilities through textile techniques. Through trial and error, I developed a natural coating for yarn that captured scents.

The Reminiscent collection is inspired by the scents and colours of memories and nostalgia connected to my home in Bangalore. There are a total of 14 wall hangings, tapestries and room dividers that stimulate the senses beyond sight with a feeling of familiarity.

The collection keeps evolving as I keep adding to my library of scents. It’s been a fascinating learning process. Reminiscent seeks to reinterpret the fragrance industry by tapping into scent’s ability to serve as powerful catalysts for triggering memories, especially feelings of calm and comfort.

“It’s a way to use textiles as aromatherapy to condense time and distance, as well as create an immersive experience to reconnect with nature, nostalgia, home and identity.”

Pallavi Padukone, Olfactory artist

Creating scented yarns

The six scents that I started my collection with were jasmine, citronella, vetiver, rose, sandalwood and clove. I’ve added hibiscus and ‘spice rack’, which is a combination of cardamom, clove and turmeric. All these fragrances bring me a sense of comfort, and I associate them with the smell of home and my childhood.

“My memories include the scent of sandalwood talcum powder on my grandmother’s dressing table”

Pallavi Padukone, Olfactory artist

Jasmine buds in our terrace garden, rose garlands in the flower market, citronella mosquito repellent during summer months, and the petrichor-like fragrance of the vetiver root that’s reminiscent of the monsoons.

The scented yarn coating I developed is wax based. It’s combined with tree resin and pure essential oils, and then coloured with natural dyes and earth pigments. The mixture is warmed, and the yarns are individually dipped, coated and dried.

The resin helps to harden the mixture. Yarns are then put into sealed bags for them to dry and lock in the scent ready for use in my tapestries. It takes about 48 hours for them to dry and harden slightly before I use them.

When yarns are heated at the right temperature, the combination of wax and resin make them quite malleable and versatile for weaving and embroidery. But they do have limitations.

Since yarns are individually dipped, they’re created in small quantities and not as a single continuous long length of yarn. That equates to a more time-consuming process, but small batches prevent waste because I can estimate how much coated yarn will be needed for each colour and scent.

I also make my own scented beads using the same pigmented and scented mixture used for my yarn, by casting the mixture into customised 3D printed moulds that I designed. I use the beads to embellish my work. Vetiver III is an example where I integrated the beads into the warp of the tapestry.

Fading fragrance

A collection tends to remain fragrant anywhere up to three months, depending on exposure to heat and light. But that impermanence is a reminder of its completely natural state and that it absorbs new smells, just as dyes tend to alter over time.

“It’s a fact that scent is temporary, and because I work with completely natural materials, it will fade over time.”

Pallavi Padukone, Olfactory artist

I keep a record of swatches as a test of the material’s durability and how long both scent and colour last when exposed to heat and light. The yarn and beads can be reactivated by adding another coating of scented oils, but the fragrance still tends to fade. So, part of my ongoing exploration is innovating new ways to replenish fragrances.

I also plan to continue to expand my library of scents to capture other places and memories dear to me.

A natural dye palette

I experiment with different combinations of dye matter to build my palettes. I mix various natural dyes in different proportions with a base of wax and natural resin.

The shades of brown come from walnut, natural earth clays and cutch extract from acacia catechu wood. Ocher pigments, reds and pinks are from madder root, hibiscus and beetroot. The orange colours come from safflower and chilli, yellows from turmeric, and blues and greens from a combination of indigo and turmeric.

“Each work’s dye palette features colours I associate with the memories I hold for each of my fragrances.”

Pallavi Padukone, Olfactory artist

With jasmine, I associate its sweet scent with delicate soft hues of pinks, creams and pastel green. But sandalwood is more a musky, powdery and creamy wood scent, so for this I use more earthy browns and deep wine reds.

Experimental weaving

My first interaction with weaving and using a handloom was during my undergraduate education. I find the repetitive motion of weaving so meditative. I think I truly fell in love with the process of weaving after travelling to Patan, a city in Gujarat, India.

There, I met master weavers who specialised in the complex double ikat weaving technique called ‘patola’ where the warp and weft are resist tie-dyed. I was absolutely mesmerised by its complexity and seeing each step in the process come together to weave the patterns.

I use a handloom, and I’ve more recently begun using tapestry looms or making my own frame looms. 

I call myself an ‘experimental weaver’, as I love weaving with different materials and moving beyond using only yarn. Vetiver roots are a favourite, but they definitely pose challenges that lead to a great learning process.

The roots themselves can be quite brittle, but I enjoy leaning into its limitations. I’m exploring ways to combine machine embroidery with wet felting to help tame the material in ways that keep its natural wildness.

I still have so much to learn and discover, and I primarily teach myself by reading and watching online tutorials for embroidery and weaving. I’m also grateful to live in a city that has access to great libraries, museums, art galleries, talks and seminars that provide great opportunities for inspiration and meeting others in the field.

Vetiver embroidery

In addition to weaving, I also wet felt and embroider on top of the fragrant vetiver (khus) grass root. It releases the most divine petrichor-like scent (like the earthy smell after rain) when activated with water.

I have tried to use vetiver in my woven pieces as well as using it as a dye, but it produces a very light colour that fades quickly.

For my embroidered works, I carefully choose yarns and threads for each piece. I like the simplicity of the running stitch. I also use quite a bit of free-motion machine embroidery, as well as hand smocking techniques on silk organza.

I tend to use cotton threads for embroidery, and polyester or nylon threads for my vetiver root artworks that involve interaction with water.

Tree of life

For my undergraduate final thesis project, I worked on a sculptural hand-woven installation called The Kalpavriksha. I’d say that project was a key turning point in my textile art trajectory.

The work was inspired by South India’s ‘Tree of Life’, which is a coconut palm eulogised as the mythological tree that grants all life’s necessities. Every part of the tree, from its leaves to its roots, can be used for food, drink, shelter, medicinal purposes and more. In Indian tradition, a tree is not just an object of nature. It’s treated as a shrine and source of bounty. 

I collaborated with handloom sari weavers and cane-work artisans from Bangalore. The sculpture symbolises the dissected coconut and represents how every layer of the tree and fruit is valued. The spreading roots made from braided coir (coconut fibre) represent its ever-evolving nature.

The coconut fibre was donated by the coir cluster of Gandhi Smaraka Grama Seva Kendram (Alleppey, Kerala), a non-profit organisation that promotes sustainable agricultural development.

Six fabric information panels accompany the exhibit, with details about why the coconut palm is revered and how it travelled to the Malabar region. The last panel features a folktale from Kerala about its origin. The installation was part of a travelling exhibit funded by the Dutch Consul General and Embassy in New Delhi.

“I find it challenging to put my work out there. Many times, I don’t feel that an artwork is ready, or I overthink some of my pieces.”

Pallavi Padukone, Olfactory artist

Navigating social media

There are times I have ideas in mind, but I need access to more resources or collaboration with an expert to bring them to life. Networking and self-education can provide good advice and guidance, but sometimes I can’t find the information I need to move forward with a project. It’s all a slow learning process.

At other times, just mustering inspiration to make something can be a challenge. When that happens, I’ll visit museums and art shows or travel. Trips back to India to visit my family and source materials always fuels my creativity.

I have mixed feelings when it comes to using social media. I do realise it’s become the standard way to showcase and promote your work as an artist. More people ask for an Instagram handle versus a website or email.

But I do struggle to maintain consistency when posting. Quite often I don’t post because I feel intimidated sharing my work, or I question if a work is ready to be posted.

It’s a challenge I need to overcome. I do use Instagram to follow other artists and designers, and being a textile designer working in the area of home interiors, I use it to stay informed about new developments and interesting projects in the industry.

“You have to take risks. We will only understand the miracle of life fully when we allow the unexpected to happen.”

When Pamela Campagna creates textile art, her approach is to be open and intuitive; this allows the exciting – and even miraculous – possibility of new and unpredicted outcomes. It’s a place where accidents are positively welcomed.

Pamela’s irrepressible drive comes from her passion to gain an understanding of our presence here in the world. She calls upon her own personal experiences: constantly researching materials, techniques and forms that marry her thoughts and emotions into artworks.

Her starting material is often a long length of thread – a simple starting point leading to ethereal artwork that’s both complex and minimalist at the same time.

Pamela’s fascination with time, light, magnetism and space inspire her to explore other materials such as nails, magnets, rust and wood as a way to portray these qualities.

Pamela is a natural nomad who, after 20 years of travelling, is now based back in her home town of Bari in southern Italy. She’s been a graphic designer, an entrepreneur and now has her own atelier – a lovingly created hub where she shares her art and talent with the community.

She’s a dreamer who dreams big – and, for Pamela, this appears a very happy place to be.

Pamela Campagna: I guess I’ve always had a passion for exploring and experimenting. I was born in Bari in 1977 and ever since I can remember I’ve felt the need to travel. When I grew up I went travelling for about 20 years until I became pregnant in 2019 and felt the need to have a stable base. So I’m back in Bari now … but that hasn’t stopped me from dreaming. 

After re-settling here I decided to realise one of those dreams – to open an atelier to the public, a place that is both a working space and an art gallery. I wanted it to have a big window onto the street so that I could welcome people in to see how my art is made, to talk about the process and to learn.

I’ve not only achieved this dream, but it’s also slowly becoming a vibrant place for meetings and workshops for all kinds of arts. I find this exchange both inspiring and enriching.

I’m perhaps best known for adapting existing techniques into something all my own, particularly when working with threads, nails, magnets, rust and wood. The result is a reflection of my nomadic attitude, a wonderful mix of both graphics and crafts, with a focus on exploring our present and our presence.

Since 2011, the core of my artistic research has been experimenting with weaving techniques and image design. I mix graphics and crafts, always looking for new artistic ways that can help us to interpret and understand our presence.

“Through my constant research into different materials, techniques and forms, I aim to make the invisible become visible.”

Pamela Campagna, Thread artist

I create artworks that interact with time, light, magnetism and the environment, to change their appearance and significance, and reveal themselves in unpredicted and surprising ways.

Art to decode life

My work can never be separate from my life. Art is my instrument for decoding my life – my present and my presence seen in a multitude of ways. My art can’t be encapsulated into any one approach or style, and that’s why there are so many heterogeneous expressions in my works.

I imagine my map of inspirations and influences as a vascular system with the blood flowing all in the same direction, even if coming from smaller vessels. I don’t consider any one thing more relevant than others.

“Every step I’ve ever taken and everything I’ve ever seen is influencing me.”

When my mother got sick and sadly died, I needed to understand what had really occurred. It was such an enormous loss, so I used my artworks to explore this sense of emptiness. And when I developed my business MINI Art For Kids, I transformed my experience as a mother into a line of tactile artworks for children.

Lately, I’ve needed to explore new techniques – some quite distinct from fibre art – and I’ve achieved this by organising workshops in my studio, which has had the added bonus of enriching my daily life with ‘real’ relationships.

“For me, art is a way of approaching life, fulfilling my imagination and creating worlds.”

Pamela Campagna, Thread artist

Starting out with textiles

When I originally started working with textiles, my aim was to build complex shapes with just a single thread, using weaving techniques to connect both physically and metaphorically. 

As a graphic designer, I’d been working with visual metaphors, expressing concepts through the use of decontextualisation of specific materials and gestures. There was a time when I wanted to deal with the idea of family, particularly working with a specific image of my mother’s family… It all started from that.

I’ve been prompted in my work by qualities I saw in the amazing trousseaus my parents had from their mothers. They were so carefully embroidered over many hours and communicated such a deep sense of grace, purity and faith. 

Another aspect of my approach probably comes from the chemistry experiments we did in the science laboratory at school. I developed a deep curiosity and fascination for the triggering of cause and effect processes.

All of the ‘design’ aspect of my art is around creating something that has a free outcome, in the sense that the final appearance is subjected to many external factors including the viewer’s own point of view. One example of this is in my White Noise series.

Becoming an artist

Initially, I studied economics, while simultaneously developing my interest in art. That included going to shows, drawing, transforming, attempting, researching and trying to match the two interests together. 

After my graduation in 2001, I took an internship in New York working for Franklin Furnace Archive. I then went to Florence to study a Masters in Management of Cultural Heritage and worked for Cittadellarte Fondazione Pistoletto in Biella in their economic office.

It was the beginning of a step into the art world while still trying to use my studies. But I was still always designing, painting and experimenting. 

I founded an artistic collective in Milan, called HEADS, making live paintings mixed with video art, makeup and music. When I met Tomi (tOmi) Scheiderbauer and CALC  (casqueiro atlantico laboratorio cultural: a group of artists, a cultural association and design company), I started working with them as a graphic designer with a little involvement in art and architecture.

After seven years, the artistic part began to take over. At the moment those two worlds are inseparable, and they totally influence one another.

Motherhood & art

Being a mother of a young child, a wife and an artist at the same time is not an easy thing, especially in Italy where there’s not a real system to support artists or autonomous working mothers.

So in the first three years of my son’s life I mostly concentrated on him. I didn’t have time for exploring and experimenting. Nevertheless, that period was beautiful and truly magical.

Through those years of observing my son, I dreamed up and developed a wonderful project: a playful brand called MINI Art For Kids, the main product being a line of tactile artworks made from laser cutting and layering superposed, colourful felt.

It came from a positive intuition and was a great success. It was really satisfying to be contacted by people from all over the world wanting to buy from the different lines I’d created.

But at a certain point, I missed the language and mystery of art being a part of my daily routine, and I realised I didn’t want to be just an entrepreneur. So I went back to my art and experiments, my son grew up a bit and I organised my day in a different way so that I could again pick up the ‘threads’ of the experimentations I’d left behind.

Sparks that become art

Mostly my art comes from the urgency of seeing something new, something that’s previously been missing from my outlook, absent from my emotional landscape. Sometimes I have a clear message to communicate, sometimes it’s a suggestion – an emotion that can’t be defined. Depending on that, I decide the subject, the technique and materials, and then I go deep into creation.

I always start from a sketchbook. I need to write down just a few lines and a few words to figure out the metaphor I’m looking for or the intention. Based on that I decide the technique I will use. There’s often a narrative that I’ve decided, but nothing is too defined. I always leave it open for accidents.

Depending on the technique I’m going to use, I have a specific way in which to draw the artwork. For every technique, I have a method of bringing a project forth.

Then I begin to work with my iPad and stylus. Since I often work with superposition or layering of images, it’s useful to make samples to get an approximate idea of the outcome. But, of course, nothing is totally defined.

“I like to think of my process as a ritual in preparation for the miracle to come.

This ‘open’ part of the creative process is exactly the reason that pushes me to begin.”

Pamela Campagna, Thread artist

I believe that there’s never one point of view, and no one point of view can last forever. I aim to create something that can change with us, and generate doubts and new thoughts or keys to understanding our present.

“My art has to be seen from different perspectives – it helps to blink the eyes or squint.

I ask for some effort from the viewer, because nothing in my work is overtly obvious.”

Pamela Campagna, Thread artist

Optimum fibre

I have a wonderful technical sponsor, Cucirini Tre Stelle, based in Milan. They provide me with many different kinds of high quality fibres in infinite colours and shades.

This is absolutely great because it pushes me to explore how every fibre can influence every work, depending on the thickness and luminosity.

For many years, I’ve been developing embroidery, weaving, tufting and bobbin lace techniques based on using ikat fabric, a material woven using dyed yarns to create patterned fabric. But often I disaggregate and minimise this concept to produce something which is both from the past and the future at the same time.

For example, in the BIG KNOTTHING series and the MIRAGE series I’ve worked in the warp and weft separately, leaving space between every line to give the image a rarefied appearance, close to the feeling of a distant memory.

In the MACROembroidery series I’ve brutalised the fine gesture of embroidery, fixing a continuous bundle of wires, made of five or six different threads, with a staple gun.

Be true & flexible

If I had to offer advice to anyone, I’d say be honest. Don’t copy, but transform and be respectful of the ideas of other artists. 

Find your real tool of expression and go deep into it, but at the same time don’t be its hostage – and change direction if you feel like it. Remember that art is a profession and a way of living and relating with your surroundings.

The biggest challenge for me is staying authentic to myself and feeling deeply what I’m saying with the piece I’m creating.

Authenticity is really difficult when it comes to commissioned works, which for years were a part of my practice. That’s why I’ve now greatly reduced the time I spend on those.

It’s difficult being a fibre artist right now, working with ‘real’ material, which requires lengthy consideration prior to doing the work, many hours in its creation, and then once it’s online it is eaten up by the web very fast.

We’re bombarded every day with images (real or AI-generated) that influence the sense of our work. Generated images can look like super elaborate crafted artworks, not actually existing in reality, and would require an enormous amount of energy to be realised in textiles.

“My greatest challenge is to keep the flame of my passion for art alive. As a woman in the cave fighting the beasts, I use that fire to keep safe and secure from the soul thieves.”

After having concentrated on local dynamics, private commissions, workshops and my project for kids, I feel that now is the right time to put together a show and an itinerary project abroad. I’m imagining, also, a more dimensional and collaborative approach. That’s my desire … but let’s see what life brings to me.

She doesn’t use fancy stitches or employ complex techniques in her multidisciplinary projects, and she’s never had any formal textile art training. But she does know that thread and fabric are both her inspiration and her medium of choice.

Ewa thinks big. The landscape often becomes her studio. Nature, abandoned buildings, and the figures and recycled objects she places within them all play a part.

She explores the global themes of climate change and sustainability, as well as making personal explorations of her experience and identity. Ewa uses thread and fabric to advocate for the planet and its dwindling resources. She often uses video to capture her process and as a way of presenting alternative viewpoints. 

Creative participation is central to Ewa’s work. Individuals pose as subjects, take centre stage in an installation, or even contribute to the making.

Strangers, neighbours and family members are all invited to play their part. Consequently, her work has a strong sense of place, as well as of the individuals living within it.

The search for meaning

Ewa Cieniak: I create projects that say something about me as a human being, woman, mother and artist. I show what is important to me. People are my inspiration. Particularly their faces showing emotions, as well as their stories and experiences.

I am also interested in relationships between individuals, and the relationship between people and nature, especially birds and trees. Freedom, equality and ecology are key values for me.

‘My feelings – fear, anger, joy – or my needs are often my starting point. I transform them into art. I hope that people find value and healing in it.’

Ewa Cieniak, Textile artist

The inspiration for Wake Up Humans – is the fear of humanity’s extinction due to a lack of water. In Synchronicity, it is the discomfort of talking about menstruation, together with anxiety about ageing and the menopause. By exploring this often taboo topic and, importantly, including myself in it, I release myself from shame.

Evaluating ideas

If a concept or idea makes me think about it all the time, and if it pushes me hard enough to give real shape to the idea, then it is worth doing. This is how I probe an idea’s value.

For me, the time between having an idea and its implementation is usually quite short. If the idea is compelling – and I can identify this by the amount of energy I feel – I develop it. Generally, I finish a project within a few weeks or two to three months.

Of course, there are exceptions. For example, Panorama of a Small Town took me ten months. I also do smaller scale projects on which I might spend only a few days.

I think about my ideas a lot. I imagine them in my head many times before actually creating them in real life. Up to now, I have always made them at their final size from the beginning, rather than creating sample models.

I usually take a photo and then use a projector to transfer the outline to a sheet or other fabric to work on. I find thread a great tool to visualise my ideas.

Across generations

I have great memories of working with my mother, Maria, on the creative experiments and installations Lady Macbeth and White Lady. These are both part of the series, Haunted Houses.

Lady Macbeth is my interpretation of the Shakespeare play of the same name. The walls of the house are flowing with blood, represented by red thread. Red thread covers the protagonist’s face and hands.

It was exciting as the installations were created in a rural area, close to the town where I was born, around Halloween. Both buildings were in ruins and scheduled for demolition.

People passing by stopped and wondered what was going on. Although the topics were quite scary, my mum and I had a lot of fun together.

Another time, I invited my mother to participate in the Altar Wardrobe project. The inspiration for this was a vision of how people surround themselves with things, particularly clothes. We worship them, yet they take up space and energy. Maria, identified with this too and she stars in the installation.

Becoming an artist

After working as an art director and creative director for agencies such as Saatchi & Saatchi, I left advertising in 2014. I spent a number of years searching for what I wanted to do. I wasn’t sure whether I wanted to work alone or with others.

I was also in therapy for five years, and it was in that last year of therapy that I created the 7-Legged Table project.

‘The 7-Legged Table is a metaphor for my family.’

Ewa Cieniak, Textile artist

Just as we are all different, each leg is a different colour and shape, with distinct features and even its own particular woodworm.

While working on the table, I felt drawn to visit all the places I had lived. Over a three-month period, accompanied by either my daughter or my mother, I visited five cities and villages and nine houses – taking the table with me.

I made a short documentary about creating the table and my travels with it, including contributions from my whole family, talking about each other using the metaphor of ‘a leg’. It was a journey into the future through the past.

This project was pivotal for me. It was only after completing it that I felt able to call myself an artist. Despite graduating from the European Academy of Arts I had always been plagued by doubt and a lack of self-confidence.

Until then, the need to earn a living and have a ‘proper’ profession had kept me from my original love and calling – making art.

Portrait of a town

One of my biggest challenges was creating Panorama of a Small Town, an embroidered portrait of the inhabitants of my hometown, Koluszki in Poland.

I created it in 2021 as part of a scholarship from the Minister of Culture and National Heritage. The inspiration was the beauty of the Bayeux Tapestry, and I also wanted to challenge myself by creating a large project. 

It took me almost a year to meet, record and photograph over one hundred people, and then embroider them on a sheet of fabric, 21 metres (69 feet) long and one metre (39 inches) wide. On reflection, I can’t help admiring my audacity in thinking I could do it.

‘I believe that any challenge can be overcome if you are determined and focus hard enough – of course, some self-confidence always helps.’

Ewa Cieniak, Textile artist

The hand of fate

An unexpected outcome of the project was that I strained my wrist due to overwork. It was very painful and I had to undergo extensive rehab to regain its use.

As a result, I started experimenting with installations and sculptures using recycled fabrics, threads and clothes as a way of avoiding stitching and straining my hands.

‘Fate forced me to develop my practice with more experimental forms, installations and on site activities.’

Ewa Cieniak, Textile artist

I really want to undertake large projects. I am drawn to large, spatial and sculptural forms. However, the challenge is to take those ideas into formats that will fit in my apartment, or more precisely, my room-cum-studio. For now, I don’t have a studio outside my home.

Worldwide wake up call

One of my latest works is an installation, Wake Up Humans. Through this interdisciplinary art project, I want to highlight the threat of extinction of mankind due to the decreasing amount of water on Earth.

‘We are asleep. We are not doing everything we can to reverse, or at least slow down, the degradation of the Earth and the destruction of its resources.’

Ewa Cieniak, Textile artist

The human body consists mainly of water – between 60-70 per cent. If water disappears, so do we. The art installation consists of eight sleeping human figures embroidered on old sheets in embryonic poses.

I also created a film consisting of fragments of recordings of various forms of water: streams, lakes and ponds. Upcycling old sheets as canvases is my way of being a responsible artist and consciously conserving resources. 

I deliberately embroidered approximately 30-40 per cent of the ‘sleeping bodies’ in detail while only roughly drafting the lower half of each body. I used this visual shift in style to really emphasise my fear of humanity’s extinction.

The spark that changed everything

My grandmother Nastka embroidered. In the 1980s, almost every woman in Poland knitted, crocheted, sewed and embroidered, but out of necessity rather than as a hobby. It was how women coped with the scarcity of everything.

My grandmother made me many dresses, sweaters and blouses but I didn’t appreciate them as a child. After she died in 1999, I was left with just one small dress embroidered with the initials ‘EC’ and two cushions embroidered with birds: a peacock on one and two doves on the other. 

In 2019, in a moment of creative crisis, I looked at them more carefully and realised embroidery was my calling. That was my eureka moment.

After a 20-year break, I picked up my artistic journey again. I confess I was surprised that embroidery called out to me. I don’t particularly have embroidery skills and I’ve never taken any courses, but I find thread and fabrics are the most inspiring and versatile medium for my experiments.

I embroider threads on the canvas as if I am drawing with a crayon or felt-tip pen, or painting with a brush.

‘I don’t want to – or feel the need – to use any complicated stitches or techniques.’

Ewa Cieniak, Textile artist

My first projects were very simple and mostly embroidered portraits. Since then, I have been constantly learning and developing my style and way of thinking and making.

Recently, I have been creating more and more installations and sculptures. I use threads, fabrics and other materials, mostly recycled, to express my ideas.

Altogether now

My work often involves other people. I’m always very encouraged when people respond to my invitation to take part. I like participatory creativity and I want to be involved in more community projects in future.

One example of this is O_Kregi (O_Circles). I invited women of all ages, from different towns and cities, to embroider self-portraits. Each participant sent me a photo of herself from which I prepared a line drawing of their portrait, on gauze.

During a three-hour workshop, each woman embroidered her portrait in whatever style she wished. Most worked freestyle. They didn’t need to know any stitches or techniques. The portraits were grouped together to create an installation.  

Red Thread, shown at Wałbrzych BWA Art Gallery, Poland, in 2024, was another multidisciplinary project, this time about mental health. Made up of seven huge, embroidered portraits of women suffering from depression, it included words or phrases that describe their struggle with the illness.

The project involved a series of seven video-recorded performative conversations between myself and each woman. During the conversations, each woman unwinds the yarn placed on her hands and, as I listen to her story, I wind this yarn into a ball.

The portraits were accompanied by an installation using several hundred balls of red yarn – a metaphor for the scale of the problem.

When Elisabeth Rutt goes outdoors, she looks up, around and down, finding all the texture, colour and form she needs to create a unique piece of art. Influenced by the landscape, the ever changing skies and weather, Elisabeth selects from her favourite textile techniques to interpret the shapes and linear patterns she sees.

She applies her individual stamp by developing her own fabrics – especially by dry felting with an embellisher – or by changing fabrics she already has. Elisabeth further manipulates her materials using weaving, melting, shaping, dyeing, printing and painting, before finishing with simple hand stitching, darning and beading. But her skill lies in her command of her materials – and it’s gratifying to see just how well they obey.

Fine art perspective

Elisabeth Rutt: I am an artist working with textiles, and my work comes from somewhere between my art school training and my lifelong love of textiles and stitch. I approach my work from a fine art perspective rather than being led by a technique.

As long as I can remember the ‘feel’ of cloth has always been important to me. I’ve never stopped loving that sensation and using it for my creative purposes.

Elisabeth Rutt, Textile artist

The driving forces in my work are form, colour and excellence of design, what I can make them do, and what they will do for me in return. I’ve attended many courses over the years to gather a repertoire of textile techniques, but have come to rest on hand stitching. I like to keep it simple, not doing anything too technically difficult or overtly impressive. I want the work and what I want it to say – not the technique – to be predominant. My stitches are drawn marks that record what I’ve observed or am thinking about, and work is usually, but not always, abstract. 

I move between design work and stitching throughout the development of a project, rather than finishing design work and moving on to fabric and thread. This helps me to keep a project alive and I can stay open to new ideas for as long as I want to keep the topic active.

Lifelong love of art

When I was asked as a child ‘What do you want to do when you grow up?’, my response was always ‘I am going to be an artist’, which was usually shrugged off as childish fantasy.

My father was a professional artist and illustrator, so I was fortunate to see what this meant as a way of life and I had few illusions. The elderly lady who lived next door taught me to sew from a very early age and I grew up drawing, painting and sewing every minute I could, doing each with equal importance and obsession.

After school, and taking as many art and textile related exams the curriculum would allow, I went on to complete a Bachelor of Humanities honours degree in Art and Dance at Goldsmiths College, University of London. During this study, I continued stitching for relaxation and I also sneaked stitch into my fine art course work as often as I could.

While my two sons were young, I studied for a City and Guilds Embroidery parts 1 and 2. The old syllabus had proper exams in technique, history and a three hour timed design paper… good times! I achieved distinction and highly commended in the medal of excellence scheme. 

I was also a member of the Embroiderers’ Guild and was able to do every workshop they held on Saturdays while my husband babysat. The Guild gave me the opportunity to learn from some of the most renowned textile artists and tutors at the time, for which I’ll always be grateful.

Since then I’ve worked as an interior designer, as a mentor for a textiles masterclass in Hitchin, Hertfordshire, and as a manager for Smiths Row art gallery in Bury St Edmunds.

My sons are now grown men and I work freelance from my studio at home. I make work for exhibitions, commissions and I run a tutor textile and design workshop at West Suffolk College, Bury St Edmunds, and others by invitation.

Inspiration all around

For the last few years I’ve worked with landscape, skies, patterns and the weather. They are all around me and I can’t escape them!

I’ve been focusing particularly on the patterns of our British landscape, including those of the underlying chalk and how it’s influenced the landscapes that I’ve lived in all my life. The white eroded patterns and lines of pathways, the tractor tracks, ancient buildings and earthworks, and the meanderings of chalk streams across the land has led me to make work about geology, landforms, and the many layers of underlying patterns in the land. I’ve used hand stitch and surface darning on my own dry felted fabrics, with screen printing and a small number of old paper maps to create my own ‘mind’s eye’ textile landscapes.

I’ve moved my work on by looking up at the broad East Anglian skies, making work about the sky, our weather and the colour palettes I see in different weather phenomena. I have called this body of work the Weather series. Constructed ground fabrics and hand darning still feature, but my design emphasis has developed. In this work I’ve been interested in observing, and recording in darned swatches, the colour schemes of different weather phenomena.

Continuing my interest in the weather I’ve also been working intermittently with snow as a starting point for new work. I’ve used beading, with my usual hand stitching, felting, and darning, in this continuing project.

I work within a body of work for a long time and am very concerned about making work in series. I consciously try to take an element from one series of work into the next. This gives me continuity whilst progressing and developing myself, my skills and my work.

Sketching preparation

The ideas and inspirations that inform my work are very varied. Once I have an idea, I research my subject thoroughly by reading, observing, making visits and using sketchbooks. I may work from detailed drawings and research, or use a piece of particular fabric or thread as an initial starting point. 

I try to draw in ways that will easily move into fabric and thread, often stitching directly into the paper pages alongside other media. Sometimes I stitch into a drawing or sketch, but I also stitch into blank sketchbook pages. When I stitch in this way, I have the same thought process as when I draw with pencil or pens.

Having sampled with drawing media and threads in a sketchbook I move to my fabric, which I’ve usually ‘made’ or changed in some way to make it truly my own before adding stitches.

Manipulating materials

I use very ordinary materials, always feeling a bit sceptical about the latest and newest big thing. I use a variety of fabrics, usually in small pieces that I combine to make a larger piece of cloth to work on.

I’m led by what I see, and I allow the work to grow and gain the right visual vocabulary.

Elisabeth Rutt, Textile artist

I work with materials that I’ve woven, melted, shaped, dyed, printed or painted. I rarely use commercial fabrics and am increasingly using my embellisher to make my own original dry felt, to use as my ground fabric for hand stitching; it’s rare that I use my sewing machine for embroidery. I enjoy chance and asymmetry, with a nod to geometry. The more I sew the more I want to simplify the construction of the stitches I use, although areas are often densely stitched.

My favourite thread is cotton perlé, numbers 8 and 12, but I do use other similar threads from my long years of collecting materials. Most have long lost their labels and so I’m no longer sure what they are. Some fabrics and threads are ones I’ve previously dyed myself.

I’ve tried very hard, over the last 10 years or so, to not buy anything new. Like most people who sew, I have an enormous stash of fabrics, threads, beads and haberdashery. I like to use second-hand garment fabrics whenever I can.

Meeting time challenges

My biggest challenge has been finding the time to make work. Anyone who hand stitches knows the enormous amount of time it takes. When my sons were a bit older and at school, however little time I could find to stitch, I always called it ‘mummy’s work’ and never approached what I was doing as a hobby. I think this helped them and me to take what I was doing seriously, and they were always respectful of the time I needed to work and of the artworks I made.

Magnum opus

The piece I would consider my magnum opus to date is Land Cloth from my Landmarks series. Before I began making, I decided that this piece would be designed to lie horizontally, just as a cloth would lie on a table, but raised a little higher so that it doesn’t look like a piece of domestic linen. I wanted it to be viewed as landscape features lie over the earth’s surface rather than hung on a wall in a vertical plane.

I became completely immersed in it, as it took about a year to complete. It’s not quite the biggest thing I’ve ever worked on, but there was certainly the most ‘making’ involved. I made the fabric first with dry felting techniques before I stitched anything, and then felted back into it in a limited way as I stitched.

It felt like a trip through the landscape – through my ‘journey’ making felted cloth I created the different colours and land features I wanted to represent.

Elisabeth Rutt, Textile artist

It was exhibited at the Knitting and Stitching Show but, due to its size and being made to be seen horizontally as the land lies, it proved tricky to exhibit elsewhere. It remains with me safely rolled up, but I do share it occasionally if I’m teaching or talking to students on a relevant topic.

A topical diversion

I have a second favourite piece – ‘significant to me’ would be a better way to think of it.

In 2020 I made a piece of work about the impact of coronavirus that was exhibited in the Chaiya Art Awards online exhibition Impact. I called this piece inhale/exhale. It was a one-off piece, a disruption to my then-current body of work. In a small way it was similar to the interruption and pausing of the world brought about by the pandemic. This piece completely absorbed me for a few weeks. It felt appropriate to spend time doing something different before returning to my current work.

I had pangs of guilt in creating this piece, making something to be aesthetically pleasing out of such a terrible world event seemed wrong in some ways, but as I stitched it helped me think through the issues we all had to confront.

Elisabeth Rutt, Textile artist

The artwork focuses on the breath of individuals and the world at that time, about the microscopic virus and the enormous effect it had on the planet. I darned motifs of the virus onto a piece of felt fabric I’d made but not used while I was suffering from whooping cough a few years earlier. It seemed somewhat ironic that it was made while I was struggling with my lungs and breath. I always knew it would come in useful for a piece of work at some time.

I used a circular format for inhale/exhale, which was a new approach for me. Stylised lungs appear within the blue circle, just as continents are seen on a satellite image of the earth. The bronchioles are reminiscent of roots, rivers, roads and communication networks, with the stitched pale patterns in the lungs indicating the presence of Covid-19. I wanted to include some of the new vocabulary that we all became familiar with. The words have a deliberate light touch, giving a corona of colour with a nod to the appearance of infographics in the data we were being presented with. 

The work was exhibited and sold during The Broderers’ Exhibition at Bankside Gallery, London in 2022.

Books to inspire

For inspiration, I think any textile artist would benefit by reading anything by Constance Howard or Kathleen Whyte, also Machine Stitch and Hand Stitch, both by Alice Kettle and Jane McKeating.

It’s also worth looking at Uppercase magazine, an independently published Canadian magazine about all things design, colour, and illustration. It’s a joy to read and look at, and, miraculously, is the work of Janine Vangool alone, who is the owner, editor, designer and publisher. It’s published every three months and although not a dedicated textile magazine, I would thoroughly recommend it to anyone interested in any area of the arts and crafts – it’s a visual feast.

A recognisable style

I’d advise any aspiring textile artist to focus on developing work that will set you apart and give you a recognisable style. Instead of asking ‘How have they done that?’, ask ‘Why and what have they done in that piece of work?’. I would advise looking at and soaking up design in many other disciplines. Good design is the core of successful work, whether it is furniture, architecture or jewellery. 

I would also recommend finding a group of peer artists to bounce ideas off of and critique each other’s work. Such a group gives great support and you will learn much from each other.

Plus, go to as many exhibitions as you can get to… (sadly I don’t get to enough!).

Mary Beth became interested in creating art for the home and workspaces while working at an art framing shop. As she interacted with a variety of interior designers, Mary Beth soon recognised the power of art to establish a mood as soon as one entered a room. And the bigger the art, the bigger the impact.

Be assured, the same phenomenon happens when Mary Beth exhibits her work in traditional galleries. Enhanced lighting causes colours and textures to pulse, and she particularly enjoys people’s surprise when they discover the thousands of stitches that make her work sing. 

Mary Beth’s favourite subject is the natural world, especially her beloved Yosemite National Park in California, USA. But she is also inspired by artists like Monet and Matisse who were masters at colour blending and combining abstract shapes into cohesive wholes.

In addition to paint and stitch, Mary Beth uses a unique Japanese paper she discovered while searching for materials for a school arts and crafts activity. Little did she know that this paper would launch an entirely new creative adventure.

Literally and figuratively, Mary Beth is making a big deal out of paint, paper and stitch. And that’s a very good thing.

It started with a bulletin board

Mary Beth Schwartzenberger: One of my aunts was a milliner and expert appliqué quilt stitcher, and a cousin of mine created punch needle wall art in the 1960s. Both of those women opened my eyes to using textiles as art.

Later during high school, I created artwork for my homeroom’s bulletin board. I remember being shocked at my luck in being chosen for that task, and I couldn’t imagine why no one else was as keen as I was about the opportunity. For my first photo collage, I cut out felt letters to make The Beatles song title All You Need Is Love. And, for the first time, I acknowledged my creative nature. 

“Nothing excited me like creating art, so I continued to explore and find my voice.”

I went on to art school at Columbia College Chicago and started as a photography major. I loved the subject but not the students in the programme. Nearly all were men who were uninterested in sharing anything. They coveted everything they did, including locations and their processing skills in the darkroom.

One day, I happened upon a room full of big contraptions that intrigued me to no end. They were floor looms! I immediately knew I had to learn how to weave and, from that moment on, I was a fibre artist. 

Columbia College was all about teaching practical skills for working artists, so I apprenticed at a local weaving shop my final year. I taught classes, learned the details of running a business and gained experience in curating and promoting textile exhibits.

After college, I moved to Los Angeles with my husband. One of the first places I visited was a weaving shop where I met some talented women who were interested in forming a supportive fibre community. They’ve become lifelong friends. I started focusing on wearables and grew my merchandising from park shows to the American Craft Council’s wholesale and retail shows for several years in Baltimore, Minneapolis and San Francisco.

Framing matters

After my daughter was born, I transitioned into paper making, collage and monoprint. I experimented with as many techniques as possible. 

The first work to which I added stitching was a monoprint, and the way it brought the print to life was very exciting. I also added collage elements and began to develop my own artistic voice. I was searching for a way to have my art stand apart, and fibre was my route.

Then when my daughter started school, I began working as a designer at a local art frame store. Dealing with such a wide variety of creative talent was educational – it trained my eye to distinguish between average and truly exceptional work. Also, as an artist who frames her own work, I was also able to learn about the process, materials and costs involved in various presentations. I always tell artists to get to know their local independent framers and learn from them. They will save themselves some expensive mistakes.

“For me, framing is like icing on a cake: it’s meant to enhance one’s work rather than overpower it.”

The magic of ‘roomscapes’

Art has the power to transform interiors and can enliven any room. From intimate home spaces to sweeping corporate settings, I seek to create art that helps bring a room’s interior to life. When working with interiors in mind, it’s important to stay aware of colour preferences. Interior colours change just as they do in fashion.

“I enjoy viewers’ surprise when they realise my work is embroidery on paint. It’s an entirely new concept that draws them in.”

I’ve learned that designers representing higher-financed clients tend to select works from established galleries, as a gallery’s reputation can be as important as the artwork. And designers working with large corporate installations are often required to choose artists known to the architectural firms contracted for the job. So, all of my opportunities have come through local designers, and I’ve had my framed work displayed at the Los Angeles Pacific Design Center where designers and their clients can purchase art off the wall.

I have also been fortunate to have had pieces included in retail interior design showrooms as well as ‘design houses’ in which every room is redesigned by an interior designer. These events are often fundraisers for local nonprofit organisations. 

Despite these opportunities, marketing continues to be my greatest challenge as an artist. I’m always looking for ways to connect with designers. I remind myself that I know my craft, and I have confidence my work is unique and deserves attention. But it takes perseverance and tough skin.

Kyoseishi love

I hosted an after-school craft programme when my daughter was in primary school, and one of our projects was an accordion book. I had been playing with various ways to cover books, and I stumbled across kyoseishi paper at an art supply store. I loved its crinkled surface and suppleness.

I played with ways to decorate the paper using stamping, painting and attaching beads. I also discovered the paper was easy to glue to book cover boards. It laid smooth as butter and folded over the corners so neatly. So, I went back to the store and bought all they had in stock, and then they never reordered it!

I knew the paper was Japanese, so after some sleuthing, I was thrilled to find a Japanese paper store in Los Angeles who represented the Awagami Factory. Awagami’s kyoseishi paper has strong integrity that holds up when wet from painting and can handle machine stitching.

Kyoseishi means ‘strengthened paper.’ It’s covered with konnyaku, a form of starch derived from the Konjac or ‘Devil’s Tongue’ plant. When the starch is mixed with water, it forms a thick liquid that’s brushed onto the paper to give it strength. But it’s still flexible enough to withstand the crumpling and kneading that gives the paper its wrinkled cloth-like texture. 

Working with this special paper has been a self-taught journey, and I’m still learning ways to apply paint to the surface to achieve various looks.

Creative process

All my art is created intuitively. Ideas and images present themselves to me. Sometimes I just start painting on a piece of paper and let the colours remind me of something and go from there. Other times I refer to other artists’ work for inspiration either in theme or setting. I’ve collected some wonderful books by various artists that I often explore. I’ve also participated in many workshops over the years, but most of my self-development has been through pure experimentation.

First, I decide what size piece I will be creating. I’ll run a wet brush down a marked line, and then tear the paper along the edge of a ruler. This leaves a soft and irregular torn edge, perfect for float framing.

Painting the paper may take one or more sessions, depending upon how many layers of colour I’m seeking. I use a variety of paint brushes and acrylic paints, adding a fusible support layer to the back before stitching. This helps me anchor my thread and provides a bit of stability to the paper.

When stitching, I tend to work in sections either from top to bottom, or side to side. The type of stitch I choose depends upon whether I want an area to be prominent or to recede into the background.

“The purpose of my stitching is to always highlight a painting, not conceal it.”

I use very simple stitches: straight stitch, seeding and french knots. I usually have a big surface to fill, so it would be too time consuming to get deeper in the weeds on stitch styles. I also primarily use DMC six-strand stranded embroidery floss. I have used some beautiful silk threads but, to be honest, their beauty is lost in a large work.

I do enjoy stitching french knots because they’re so versatile in structure and dimension. In Room With a View, I used a thicker cotton to give the curtain edge a playful feel. At the time, I was exploring the themes and perspectives used by Matisse. Windows were a big concept of his, and this room from my imagination is a nod to that. I wanted to combine different patterns, and the heavily patterned curtains and interior wall frame serve as a contrast to the calmness of the ocean.

On occasion, I’ve painted threads after they are stitched, but I don’t like how the paint makes the threads stiff and harsh. I instead prefer stitching with multiple strands of different colours in one needle to enhance colour blending. Fortunately, when I paint the kyoseishi paper, it still remains flexible and clothlike which makes for easier stitching.

Another important part of my process is keeping a notebook, where I enter my start and finish times every day I work, as well as a listing of the colours I’ve used.

Yosemite calls

My beloved Yosemite National Park is the most beautiful place in the world! I first visited in 1976, and I’ve tried to go every year since. When I’m in the Yosemite Valley, I’m surrounded by such majesty: imposing granite walls, waterfalls, quiet streams and more.

Every season is seductive. Pounding rain can quickly turn into the quiet of falling snow. Waterfalls become rushing and powerful in the spring. Rivers are refreshingly cool on a hot summer day. And in autumn, the colours can fill a painter’s palette. All these experiences provide endless inspiration for my work.

Viewpoint was created in response to Yosemite’s beauty, and it’s one piece I will never sell. I wanted to create visual excitement by having a wide vista that travelled uninterrupted onto each panel. Each panel of the triptych is 64cm x 90cm (25″ x 35″) and when installed it’s very wide. I really enjoyed playing with the subtle colour variations in the sky. All the stitches are groups of three straight stitches in varying angles to each other. When it was first installed at the Oceanside Museum of Art, I was pleasantly surprised to discover the various angled groups of threads captured the lights in unique ways, creating varying highlighting effects.

“I estimated that Viewpoint includes over 10,000 stitches. It was the last piece my mom saw before she passed away, so for me, it’s a testament to the ability to create beauty out of sadness.”

Working in black and white

In 2016, I entered First Snow at the annual Yosemite Renaissance exhibit. It’s a year-long travelling show that begins in the gallery at Yosemite National Park. At the time, California was experiencing a multi-year drought. On our trips to Yosemite, we saw so many logging trucks coming down the mountain piled high with huge pine trees damaged by the drought and then killed by a bark beetle. It was estimated California lost more than a million old-growth trees during that drought. 

I wanted to place a dead pine in the centre of the work and then use french knots to represent the healing blanket of snow that would soon cover the forest. I chose to only use black, white and a few shades of grey, as I thought using colour would lessen the impact of the image. It was a challenge to make the scene have dimension and perspective with such a limited palette, but I think the few shades of grey helped.

Wish Flower was created for an artist showcase gallery in a local Williams Sonoma Home store. Knowing the design trend at the time featured a lot of linear black, white and grey, I made a few pieces along those lines. The background was painted with a silver metallic paint that I rubbed into the kyoseishi paper to provide a soft background for the stark image. I painted the flower and then stitched onto the painted lines using couching and french knots.

Embracing the mess

Ebb and Flow was created for a 2011 show at the Metro Water District offices in San Francisco. It’s an earlier work in which I combined collage techniques and materials with my early explorations painting on kyoseishi paper. I added torn strips of dupioni silk which is a fantastic material. When it’s torn, you can pull the weft out from the edges to create dimension.

“There is something so appealing to me about messy fibres. They just seem more organic.”

I machine stitched the fabric strips onto the painted paper in random patterns, letting the loose threads hang off the sides. Like the kyoseishi paper, I was also able to pucker the Dupioni silk to form peaks that held their dimension. 

Since the work was to be shown at a water district office, I folded the paper in soft accordion curves to mimic the ebb and flow of water. The multi-thread french knot was an additional way to add dimension. I’m not particularly interested in perfect french knots – I prefer a more imperfect, loose effect.

Moving on up

When I first started creating, I worked on top of the washing machine in my laundry room. From there I graduated to the kitchen counter, and then when I started working on larger pieces, the kitchen floor.

When my mom could no longer live alone, she moved into my home. We needed to build storage space, so we added a room on the back of the garage. It turned out so well I told my husband it was going to be my studio and we’d need to buy a separate storage unit! I love being in my studio, and I go in there just about every day. It opens out to my garden, which has inspired many of my artworks.

Photo finish

I began stitching on photos a couple years ago. I take photos on my iPhone, and the immediacy is intoxicating. For me, printed photos are like nice, flat monoprints – so, of course, I started stitching on them.

I photograph flowers in my garden or things I see when out and about. I’m learning what type of flowers work for my style, and I spend time manipulating them on my phone or laptop. I print many of my photos at home on Epson Somerset Velvet art paper. I’ve also had larger images printed by a local framer who produces giclee prints.

“When I start stitching on the photos, I’m focused on using the threads to highlight the design lines of a flower.”

I don’t want the stitching to overtake an image, nor just portray a flower. I want the stitch work to convey a strong emotional pull, create a mood or conjure a feeling or memory. 

Sometimes I’ll make holes in the photo with my needle first, but other times I just start stitching. I don’t use thick fibres or chunky needles. And if the white backing shows where the needle comes up, I just gently push it back down with the needle or a pen or pencil in a matching colour.

I’ve just begun experimenting with translating one of my stitched photos into a painted form on kyoseishi paper.  I still have a lot to learn with applying stitch to painted images and photographs. I’m excited at the results so far and will be exploring this more.