Good news! We’ve lined up nine textile artists who are sharing their go-to display methods. You’ll be surprised by each technique’s simplicity, as well as the fact they don’t require expensive equipment or professional support. Each artist generously provides step-by-step instructions and tips that will help ensure your success. 

No matter what type of textile art you create, we’re confident at least one of these strategies will help you display your work in all its glory.

Shadow box & floating mount

Mary Beth Schwartzenberger: Because my art is a combination of paper and fibre, I find an enclosed shadow box frame to be the most archival and effective way to display my work. I never glue my art to any surface. Instead, I float my work using foam core and fishing line which allows the paper’s uneven edges to become a design element. 

First, choose a shadow box frame with an appropriate depth to allow your art to float without touching the frame’s back, sides or the glazing. The box’s sides can be made of mat board, foam core or plastic strips. 

Next, cut a piece of foam core that’s at least 3cm (1″) smaller than the artwork’s perimeter. Then stitch the artwork to the foam core using fishing line. Because the art is stitched rather than glued, you can safely remove it by simply cutting the fishing line stitches. 

The foam core is then glued to the float board that fits inside the frame. The proper fitting sequence is glazing, shadow box sides, float board with media and then close.

I always encourage artists to work with a professional framer. While it may cost more, it will pay dividends in quality and longevity. I also suggest letting a framer know you’re a willing partner in the process. Most will respect your interest and offer suggestions for various techniques. 

For smaller works, many frames with built-in shadow box sides or matting are sold online. But again, if your project is particularly important, I think using a framer is your best route. You’ll have a high-quality frame and a wider choice of matting and glazing. A beautiful work of art deserves a beautiful presentation. 

Mary Beth Schwartzenberger is based in Los Angeles, California (US). Her work has been featured in galleries and museums throughout the US. She has also been featured in a variety of publications, including Fiber Arts Design Books 6 and 7 and Cloth Paper Scissors magazine.

Bobbin & scroll

Gwen Hedley: I enjoy the flexibility of scrolls, which can be used with a spool, bobbin or other tubular item. They can be displayed as a freeform relief work or hung on the wall by passing a small rod through the spool holes, protruding just enough to carry a short hanging thread. 

The height of your spool determines the width of your scroll. Your spool should be a bit longer than your stitched scroll. This makes it easy to wrap the scroll around the spool. In my example, my spool is 9cm tall, and my scroll is 6cm tall.

You’ll also need a short length of 2cm (1″) Velcro to attach the scroll to the spool. Cut the Velcro to fit across the end of your stitched scroll and then sew the hooked side at the very end of your scroll on the right side. If you don’t want to stitch it onto your scroll, sew a small fabric extension at the end of the scroll (as shown in the first image below) and stitch the Velcro onto this instead. 

Place the fuzzy piece of Velcro onto your sewn-on Velcro strip. Next, wrap the scroll just once around the spool and mark a line on the reverse side where the Velcro now sits invisibly on the back of your work (marked by a pin in the image below). 

Peel off the fuzzy half of the Velcro and stitch it firmly into place on the reverse of the scroll, just inside your marked line. Stitch around all sides of the Velcro. 

You’re now ready to wrap the end of the work tightly around the spool, pressing the Velcro strips firmly together to hold the end securely in place. Then you can wind the rest of your scroll onto the bobbin.  

 To display your scroll on the wall, fix the spool to the wall at a jaunty angle using a picture hook and thread. Then arrange your unwinding scroll in any way you wish, remembering to keep the dimensional quality. Sticky fixers or the like can be added to the back parts that touch the wall.

Alternatively, you could sew a thin wire at each side of the scroll and manipulate it into interesting undulations. 

My favourite method is to stand the spool on a small plinth, allowing it to unwind and tumble across the table. The longer the scroll, the better. I have a small box to contain each spool for storage and transportation, and this, in turn, can become a plinth for the piece. 

Gwen Hedley is based on the Kent coast in the UK. She teaches and exhibits across the globe and is a long-standing member of the Textile Study Group. She has also written Drawn to Stitch (2010) and Surfaces for Stitch (2000). Photo of Restoring by Melanie Chalk.

Hoop in a shadow box 

Cassandra Dias: This shadow box technique allows me to display and protect an entire embroidered hoop without having to mount, glue or sew anything into place. All that’s needed is a completed and hooped artwork, backing felt and a shadow box. 

Choose a shadow box with a width that allows at least a 1.5cm (½”) space around your embroidery hoop. The inner depth of the shadow box (the space between the glass panel and the backing board) should be around 2cm (¾”), so your hoop can be sandwiched between the glass and the felt before the backing board of the frame is set in place to hold it all together. 

Once you’ve selected your shadow box, wipe down the inside of the box and glass with a damp paper towel and let it dry. Place your finished embroidery face down on the centre of the glass. 

Cut some strips of felt and scrunch them up to fill the spaces surrounding the embroidery. This gives the effect of having the hoop nestled into a bed of fabric. Place a square piece of matching felt over the felt strips and your hoop. Lastly, add the backing board and close the frame. 

This technique works best for embroideries that have a level surface. If your work has a lot of raised stitching, the glass panel will flatten the stitches. But for flatter works, this technique is a great way to protect your art from dust and other environmental elements. You can choose to hang your work on the wall or prop it up on a flat surface. 

Cassandra Dias is based in Southern California, USA. She started to embroider in 2020 as a hobby, but that quickly grew into an artistic career. Cassandra’s work has been featured in various online textile and art publications, as well as in Love Embroidery magazine (September 2021).

Hanging hoop 

Vinny Stapley: This display technique is especially wonderful for works created with sheer translucent fabrics, as well as opaque fabrics. It gives a nice clean finish that looks lovely from both the front and back. 

You’ll need your artwork, an embroidery hoop, scissors and double-sided tape that matches the depth of your hoop. A small butter knife or something with a rounded flat blunt tip is useful to tuck under any excess fabric, and you’ll need some invisible thread or fishing line to hang the hoop.

First, secure your embroidery in the hoop. Tighten the screw, so your work is taut like a drum. I locate the screw fixing at the top of the artwork to make it easy to hang. Trim the excess fabric leaving an allowance of 2cm (¾”). Position the double-sided tape around the inside frame edge, pressing it firmly to the inside hoop edge.

Peel off the paper backing of the double-sided tape, and then carefully stretch and fold the extra fabric to the inside of the hoop onto the sticky tape. Use a flat-edged knife to tuck in any extra material at the base of the inner hoop edge. Attach some invisible thread or fishing line to hang the hoop.

The key to success is making sure your work is tightly secured in the hoop. This will help prevent it from looking loose and baggy.

Vinny Stapley is based on Mersea Island in Essex, UK. She is a member of the group East Anglian Stitch Textiles, which was featured in Embroidery magazine in 2024. Her work was selected for The Broderer’s Exhibition: The Art of Embroidery, 2025.

Sleeve & slat 

Pat Baum Bishop: The sleeve and slat system is my preferred method for larger art quilts and those that don’t match standard sizes of wrapped canvases. It works great for all sizes of textile art that has more than one layer, including those that have decorative or intentionally unfinished edges.

First, measure and cut a fabric strip that is 10-15cm (4-6″) less than the width of the quilt and about 25-30cm (10-12″) deep. For smaller quilts, you could make your sleeve about 10cm (4″) deep. 

To create a sleeve, fold the fabric in half lengthwise and stitch along the long edge. Press this flat and then cut it into two equal sections. Evenly shorten each half section, enough to leave a 15cm (6″) gap in the centre of the artwork. Finish the shortened edges by turning them under by 1cm (½”) and stitching. Pin each sleeve about 1cm (½”) down from the top of the quilt and 2cm (1″) in from the outer edges, then hand stitch into place. 

For the insert slats, I use wooden firring strips from a DIY/home improvement store that are 0.64cm x 122cm x 4cm (¼” x 48″ x 1½”). I cut the strip to 2.5cm (1″) less than the width of the finished quilt and sand down the edges. 

I cut about 30cm (12″) of hanging wire and make a loop at each end. With the wire centred, I staple each of the looped ends to the slat with a household stapler.

Pat Baum Bishop is an artist and teacher based in Wisconsin, USA. She has exhibited across the globe and won numerous awards in fine art venues and prestigious fiber art exhibits. She has also been on the cover of Quilting Arts Magazine and appeared on The Quilt Show in 2024.

Pat Baum Bishop’s alternative option for small textile art quilts uses machine-stitched facings. 

Wrapped canvas

Pat Baum Bishop: The wrapped canvas method can be used for both framed and unframed display. I think this technique gives the artwork more presence, substance and importance. It also prevents the art from sagging or hanging unevenly. 

You want to first make sure your textile art overlaps your canvas by at least a 5cm (2″) on all four sides (a larger overlap may be needed for thicker frames).

Lay your quilt face down and then place the frame in the middle. Using a household stapler or staple gun, wrap and staple the art at the top and bottom centres of the back of the frame. Then wrap and staple the left and right centres of the frame. Continue to staple around the frame every 5-8cm (2-3″). 

For neat corners, pull each corner of fabric up diagonally toward the centre of the canvas and staple it down. Then tuck and staple each side of the corner. If your artwork is too thick, try trimming excess material to achieve a nice look. You can also tap the corners with a hammer to encourage them to lie flatter.

To hang the work, I attach D-rings a third of the way down from the top on the left and right sides and thread through some picture frame wire. 

Pat Baum Bishop, wrapping a canvas

Attached wire hanger

Jo Morphett: This technique is perfect for small to medium sized textile art that doesn’t weigh much. It uses a simple 22- or 24-gauge wire that can be found at hardware or craft stores. Depending on where you place the wire, it can be almost hidden or openly serve as a decorative element. 

Start with a length of wire approximately triple the width of your project. To create a triangle, first fold the wire in half without pinching. Then bend each cut end toward each other and overlap to create a triangle shape. Twist the overlapped wire ends around each other to secure, then trim any excess wire.

The base of the triangle, the edge with the twisted ends, should be about 1cm (¼”) shorter on each side than the width of the art. Once the triangle is the size you want, pinch the top of the wire slightly to create an oblong shape at the top. 

Folding a perfect wire triangle can be challenging, but don’t worry. Some wonkiness is ok. And if the wire that shows above the top of the art is centred and uniform in shape, it’ll look great.

To attach the wire to the art, centre the wire on the back of the piece, allowing it to show as above the top of the artwork. Holding the wire in place with your non-dominant hand, secure it using a whip stitch with embroidery thread (floss), making sure your stitches don’t appear on the front of the piece. 

Once the wire is stitched in place, cover the back of the whole piece with fabric and use a blanket stitch to stitch it all together. 

Jo Morphett is based in Northern BC, Canada on the unceded ancestral lands of the Lheidli T’enneh Peoples. She creates video tutorials and provides inspiration for starting or expanding a Slow Stitching practice. Jo also relies upon a low impact, no waste approach by using recycled or deadstock fabrics.

Fabric book with pages

Mandy Pattullo: I enjoy the flexibility of using fabric books. Using buttons for the side binding allows pages to be easily removed or worked on at a later stage. It’s also easy to attach a backing to the pages since they are separate.

I start by pinning all my collage elements onto a linen page and then attach a backing piece of linen using a small overstitch or stab stitch. I use matching thread and very small stitches, so they are almost invisible. It’s important the attaching stitches aren’t really seen.

I then add whatever stitch or other embellishment I want to my page, and once everything is complete, I add another same-sized linen backing piece and attach that with tiny running stitches. 

To assemble the book and bind one side with a few buttons, I stack the pages together and make pencil marks on the front where each button will go. I use a strong knotted thread such as cotton perlé to stitch on the buttons. 

I bring the needle up from the back of the book, through a button, and then stitch down through the button to the back. If necessary, I stitch through the button a second time. 

Mandy Pattullo is based in Northumberland, UK. Her work is based on historical textiles and traditional techniques. She teaches workshops across the globe and is a member of the Textile Study Group. 

Concertina book

Mandy Pattullo: I like to use metis fabric to make concertina books. It’s a stiff mix of linen and cotton that creates a sharp concertina fold. I assemble my collage elements into colour stories and pin them onto the metis. It’s important to be careful with any elements covering the valley and mountain folds. 

I’ll then stitch everything together using ordinary Gütermann sewing thread in a matching colour. I use almost invisible stitches or what some might call a whip stitch.

A challenge with this technique is that the stitches I use to attach the elements are visible on the back of the book. I’ve never found an effective way to put a second concertina on the back to hide those stitches, as doing so makes the book less pliable.

Still, I like how when the book is folded, you can ‘read’ it as double page spreads which can have their own colour story. And then when you pull the whole thing open, it gives yet another viewpoint. 

This technique is also an excellent way to present very small scraps of fabric. 

Stretch-mounted & framed

Heidi Ingram: I use a traditional damp-stretch method for preparing my heavily stitched work ready for mounting. By presenting my art in a glazed frame it’s protected from dust build-up.

I pin out my composition on an old cork board using lots of drawing pins (thumb tacks) and then lightly spray it with water, while trying to make sure the grain of the background fabric is straight. As I use colourfast fabrics and threads there is no risk of the dye colours bleeding into the fabric during this process. You can also use a staple gun and a piece of plywood for damp-stretching. 

When the artwork is dry, I centre it over a piece of acid-free mountboard that’s several centimetres smaller than the background fabric on each side. I insert dressmaker pins into the mountboard core to temporarily fix the artwork in place. 

Next, I fold over the fabric at the back, making neat folds at the corners. With long lengths of doubled-up strong thread, I lace up the back. I make long stitches, starting at the centre of each edge then moving towards the corners. I find that a small curved upholstery needle makes this job a bit easier. 

After removing the pins, I use acid-free framer’s tape to attach the work to a window mount. I tend to use a deep box frame for most of my artworks. But for flatter pieces, I can get away with using a standard frame combined with a double-layer mount to make sure the textiles aren’t touching the glass. 

Framing services can be expensive so I often order bespoke frames online and then frame the work myself. This also gives me full control on how the artwork is presented. Depending on the destination of the artwork, I use either standard float glass or art glass (either TrueView UltraView or Groglass AR70), which is more expensive but is non-reflective.

Heidi Ingram is based in Scotland and makes hand stitched textile landscapes. She is a member of EDGE Textile Artists Scotland and is the learning and workshop development lead for TextileArtist’s Stitch Club. 

Double-sided tape float 

Mary Carson: I always stretch my art because I don’t want faces and body parts puckering. I also want the manipulated fabrics to stand proud on the surface. But for Benjamin’s New Hat, I wanted to surround the work with a fabric binding so it would look like an art quilt when hung. 

I didn’t add a fabric backing, so some of my stitchwork can be seen on the back. I was concerned a loose backing fabric would allow the stitched work to ripple and buckle. But seeing the threads on the reverse side doesn’t bother me, as I enjoy seeing the backs of stitched works. 

I first thought about tacking the work to the canvas with thread, but I’d need too many stitches to keep it taut. So, I scoured the internet to see if there was a double-sided tape made for textiles, and discovered Stitchery Tape. It’s acid and solvent free, and it works like a charm!

I evenly distributed four full-length horizontal strips of tape across the canvas and then attached the art, working from the top down. I stretched the artwork taut as I laid it across each strip. It held remarkably well and has stayed secure to this day. 

The Stitchery Tape product information suggests art can be removed or repositioned without damage. I haven’t tried that, but online reviewers said they did so with success. 

In the future, I’m going to consider painting the edges of the canvas. I don’t mind the basic white finish for this piece, but a complementary colour could add to the display effect.

Mary Carson  is based in Wisconsin, US. She is a storyteller at heart in both stitch and word, and she enjoys being a writer for TextileArtist.

Another way to display your art is by taking photographs, especially when you share them on social media. Check out these tips for taking professional pictures of your work with your smartphone. 

Each book is authored by a well-known artist who shares step-by-step techniques for transforming simple fabrics into canvases that explode with colour and texture. The authors also provide insights into their own creative development and the lessons they learned along the way.

We promise our list will appeal to artists of all skill levels. Get set to learn innovative techniques for creating breathtaking designs. 

Luscious landscapes

Alison Holt is known for her exquisite landscape machine embroideries, as well as her workshops and books. This latest book is a must-have as it features essential information from her other three books along with brand-new material.

‘Freehand machine embroidery is painting with stitch, and I enjoy playing with the subtleties and endless possibilities,’ says Alison. ‘For example, I can adjust the bobbin tension to emulate tree bark, moss or crumbling stone. Or I can lengthen stitches to capture the movement of a breaking wave or grasses swinging in the breeze.’

Readers learn how to create gorgeous, embroidered pictures of various landscape aspects, including formal gardens and flowers, romantic seascapes, and woodlands. The book is packed with information including required materials, advice on composition, how to achieve perspective, working with light and shade, and important basic stitches.

Alison breaks down her creative process into simple steps, explaining why each stage is important. She also includes sketches and close-ups of stitch techniques, as well as many step-by-step projects that are easy to follow.

‘I try to demystify freehand machine embroidery. I want to give readers confidence as they acquire the building blocks needed to develop their own style. I enjoy showing students they can create unlimited subject matter with a few well practiced mark-making techniques.’

Machine Embroidered Art: Painting the Natural World with Needle & Thread by Alison Holt (2020)
^{ISBN 9781782217916}

Layered fabric & stitch

They say good things come to those who wait, so if you don’t already have this book on your shelf, now is the time to grab it.

Katie Essam has revised and updated her very popular book, including adding a new bonus project. Katie brings a fresh and modern approach to traditional embroidery techniques, and her emphasis on showcasing the beauty found in everyday objects is engaging. 

‘Machine embroidery allows me to collate and connect all the mixed media I like to use in my art,’ says Katie. ‘It’s a creative adventure drawing together all the fabric, painting, drawing, found items, textured fibres and anything else I find. I love its freedom and versatility.’

The book features eight projects and many finished artworks to spark creativity. Each project builds on the last through step-by-step instruction and beautiful images. 

Katie’s overarching goal is to empower readers to grasp her techniques and run with them, no matter their ability to stitch or draw. 

‘Free-motion embroidery can begin with a reader’s own designs, photos or even a sketch. Each way works beautifully, and it completely comes down to the individual’s inspiration, interpretation and style. I love the guaranteed originality that allows readers to develop their own creative expression.’

Free Motion Embroidery: Creating Textile Art with Layered Fabric & Stitch by Katie Essam (2022)
_{ISBN 9781800920484}

Organic embroidery

If you’re looking for ways to stitch nature’s most intricate forms, you need to add this gem to your bookshelf. 

Meredith Woolnough is known for the unique way in which she combines machine embroidery with water-soluble fabric to create corals, plants, microscopic organisms and more. Her delicate threaded works are amazing, and now readers can learn how she brings them to life. 

‘I wanted this book to be both instructional and inspirational,’ says Meredith. ‘It shows how my artworks are made from start to finish, exploring how I use freehand machine embroidery on water soluble fabric. Readers will discover my inspirations, technical processes and the stories behind some of my favourite pieces.’

Readers will learn how to find interesting shapes or patterns found in nature, such as leaves, shells and coral. Meredith also explains how they can use their sewing machine to turn those inspirations into elegant open-work textile art. 

‘This book largely shares the overarching theory I’ve developed over many years of working with this type of embroidery. My hope is readers will use my book as a stepping stone to help build and streamline their own creative path using these wonderful, but sometimes challenging, embroidery skills.’

Organic Embroidery by Meredith Woolnough (2018)
^{ISBN 9780764356131}

Seascape stitching

Amanda Hislop lives in land-locked Oxfordshire in the UK, so she cherishes her trips to the sea. She always takes a sketchbook and fills it with inspiration. She turns those ideas into incredible textile seascapes using free-motion embroidery and mixed media.

Amanda explains: ‘I’ve developed a technique that gives me the freedom to work without an embroidery hoop. I make a foundation layered with cotton cloth, wet strength papers, threads and fibres glued with cellulose paste. Once dry, I paint the surface with acrylic paint, and then I use machine embroidery to create lines and texture.’ 

In addition to covering materials and stitch choices, the book features four step-by-step projects that help readers create a variety of seascape features. Throughout the text, Amanda shares her techniques for capturing the sea’s moods, rhythms, patterns and structures.

‘I encourage learners to enjoy the process of using a sketchbook to develop work from personal observation. I work with a less-is-more approach to drawing by considering what elements will suggest landscape, which results in an almost abstract impressionistic sense of place.’

Stitched Textiles: Seascapes by Amanda Hislop (2019)
^{ISBN 9781782215646}

Bold inspiration

While Bisa Butler’s book doesn’t include formal instruction, it’s packed with inspiration for using free motion quilting. Bisa is an American artist who captures vibrant scenes from African American life and history. Her portraits explode with coloured and patterned fabrics that she cuts, layers and stitches together.

In this book, Bisa shares her story and creative journey, situating her work within the broader history of textiles, photography and contemporary art. Other scholars chime in to illuminate Bisa’s unique approach to colour, use of African-print fabrics and wide-ranging sources of inspiration.

This is a beautifully illustrated look at the work of one of today’s most exciting textile artists.

Bisa Butler: Portraits by Bisa Butler (2020)
^{ISBN 9780300254310}

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

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

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

Creating with joy

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

How did you become a textile artist?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mirjam Gielen, Textile artist

Patterns, lines & structures

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

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

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

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

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

Mirjam Gielen, Textile artist

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

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

How do you develop ideas for your work?

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

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

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

Botanical dyes, reclaimed materials

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Time & teaching

How do you organise your working week?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

How is your work evolving?

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

Do you have one or two tips for makers?

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

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

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

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

Anne’s favourite themes are folk art, the natural world, memories and travel. And all of her works feature magical mash-ups of unique and colourful ephemera locked together with stitch. 

‘Inspiration boards’ play a key role in Anne’s creative process, and she’s generously sharing a look into that process. She’s also giving us a peek into her signature overstitching technique using her trusty old Bernina sewing machine.

Mixed media is very exciting in Anne Kelly’s hands. Be sure to zoom in to see all her hidden gems.

Fine art background

Anne Kelly: I’ve always been a maker, even from an early age, when I was influenced by my Canadian grandmother who was a wonderful needleworker.  

I trained as a fine artist in Canada, but it was visiting my British grandmother in London that first drew me to the UK. I moved here in the early 80s to continue my training at Goldsmiths in London and to start a career in teaching that would work around family life. 

Mixed media work was part of my training, and I became interested in finding ways to combine stitch with photographic and printmaking processes. I turned to my garden for inspiration, and this is when the symbiotic relationship between image and stitch first began. 

Everyday ephemera

I’m interested in everyday things. We all have so much fabric and paper ephemera surrounding us. I also take lots of photographs and collect things like tickets and leaflets when I travel. It can be a lot to sort through when I’m looking for items to use in my collages, and I like to choose carefully. 

Some ephemera can be quite valuable and fragile, especially old photos. So, instead of directly stitching on these cherished items, I’ll make a fabric pocket from white or cream organza. I stitch the pocket to the background layer and slip the item inside the pocket. 

Other times, I’ll transfer the images of delicate ephemera onto T-shirt transfer paper or pretreated fabric that can go through a photocopier or printer. 

I use a very wide variety of ephemera, and I enjoy the challenge of figuring out how to put them all together. For example, I made a series of Park Walk books for a solo exhibition at the Ruthin Crafts Centre. I used old maps, legal documents and the type of scrim used in hat making. 

“I am a great believer in using everyday materials and techniques.”

Anne Kelly, Textile artist 

Loving print

There’s always an element of printmaking in my work. I just love the way that print works on fabric. It’s very different from printing on paper, but the ink or paint takes so well on fabric. Sometimes my printing is quite subtle, but I think it really enhances my textile art. 

I use quite a few printing methods, including screen printing, block printing, transfer printing and digital printing. It just depends on what I’m doing.

The secret is to keep everything as open-ended as possible and I always work on more than one piece at a time. Using a baking analogy, if you’ve got all the ingredients out, you may as well make more than one cake. I think if you’re working on more than one creation at a time, you’re more likely to be happy and enjoy it when something comes through. 

“Working on several collages at a time frees me up, as I’m not investing everything into trying to create the one perfect piece.”

Anne Kelly, Textile artist

Inspiration boards

I’ll use sketchbooks and photography to research my themes. Drawing and keeping sketchbooks is an important part of my practice, and I refer to them frequently when working on a new project. 

I always tell my students to have a sketchbook to hand, but they shouldn’t have to feel they have to use it in any particular way. I use mine as scrapbooks and pinboards. But they should use them as they see fit.

I also use inspiration boards, similar to the mood boards used in interior design. Seemingly disparate elements are combined, going on to inspire a new series of work.

Inspiration boards are an invaluable resource. I have been using them for many years to reference themes when creating new work. Depending on the project, I’ll use pinboards, cards or sketchbook pages for my inspiration boards. The main thing is they must be accessible in my workspace. 

I often start with my photograph collection, adding motifs, found paper materials and drawings inspired by vintage natural history books. I bring them together using stitch and embellishment. 

“My inspiration boards influence the direction of my work – but I’m not wedded to them, as the work may change as it evolves and progresses.”

Anne Kelly, Textile artist

Isle of Skye reflections 

I remember creating an inspiration board after a teaching and travelling visit to the Isle of Skye in Scotland. It allowed me to spend time reflecting on my travels, and I was able to combine collected papers and ephemera together in one place. 

I had everything from maps to Tunnock’s chocolate bar wrappers. I also looked through my collections of paper and textile scraps for colours and fragments that would work well with the project. 

“Starting with the idea of landscape, I used the board to connect disparate elements and combine them, in order to make new work.”

Anne Kelly, Textile artist 

I selected a variety of weights, textures and thicknesses of paper and textiles, from tissue paper and organza, to handmade paper and wool. 

That inspiration board led to a wide range of works, and it will continue to inspire further explorations referencing this theme. 

Layers of detail

When creating my textile collages, I like to start with a strong background fabric such as calico or canvas. I layer this panel with fabrics that match the subject matter. The panels vary according to the size and shape of the artwork I’m creating. 

I consider the elements that will make up the surface, using sketchbooks, drawings, templates and photographs to determine the final look of the artwork. 

I join everything together using a variety of stitches and appliquéd fabric. Generally, I finish with free motion embroidery and some hand stitching. I back my work using vintage fabric if it’s being hung without a frame. 

I have an outdoor garden shed that I renovated for my studio. It’s not very big, so I always say to people it’s not the size of your space that counts, it’s what you do. I love being able to go there to work and then just shut the door and leave my mess until next time.

Drawing with stitch

For me, stitching is a form of drawing. I use hand and machine stitching, collage and simple printmaking techniques to merge my selected materials. The stitching acts as a web to bind the components together.

I use a variety of stitch techniques, both hand and machine. I’m known for using a repetitive edging stitch on an old Bernina to join layers of fabric together and create a netting effect over the surface.

“I entrap elements of the world in my textiles, then draw over them, making a new piece of tapestry-like fabric.”

Anne Kelly, Textile artist

I also use free-motion embroidery, particularly in my recent portrait series. For the hand embroidery, I favour simple stitches like running stitch, back stitch, blanket stitch and french knots.

The work I make fits into both the traditional and contemporary genres. While appearing traditional, I use a variety of techniques in a contemporary way. The naïve references and influence of the natural world make it relevant and topical.

Telling stories 

There’s always a story to be found in my work. For example, my series Friends and Family series looks at family and friends’ environments and passions.

Paul in the Garden showcases how my husband likes to read in the garden. It was inspired by a photo of him surrounded by plants. I used vintage materials, machine embroidery and hand stitch. The work is backed with a piece of linen and mounted on canvas for display.

I’ll also stitch stories from my own life. Resting and Jenny’s Owl came to life after I had a bout of flu. I wanted to recreate the view from my bed. My friend, Jenny, made the owl as a present and it is displayed as a focal point on my shelves. The artwork also features vintage materials, machine embroidery and hand stitch.

A seaside Stitch Club workshop

The artwork Small World was inspired by my larger work called Undersea. I wanted to take a closer look at the details of the sea, creating a jewel-like focus. 

I used machine embroidery, hand stitch, and textile collage including buttons and metal charms. I then mounted the work onto a hoop and sewed it into the frame.

I pursue a similar creative project in my Stitch Club workshop where members create sea-inspired textile collages using existing materials found in their stash. I think it’s an enduring and accessible theme for many, and I’m excited to show members new ways to combine materials.  

Without a sound knowledge of photography techniques or access to professional equipment, getting fantastic photographs of your art can be tough. And textile art poses its own distinct challenges as artworks can come in a wide range of sizes, shapes and forms.

Here are some quick tips to help you take great photos of your creations using the camera app on your smartphone.

“Bright, indirect lighting is the key to a great textile photo.”

Choose a bright location

Lighting is the most important factor. It’s best to take your photos on a bright but cloudy day, inside or outside. Avoid direct sunlight as it will cause harsh shadows.

If you opt to shoot indoors, make sure the light source isn’t behind you, or you’ll cast a shadow over your artwork. Ideally, try to work in a space with pale, neutral-coloured walls, such as white or off-white tones.

Don’t use the camera’s flash as it will flatten the textile’s texture. It will also cause glare and uneven distribution of light across the piece.

Aim for even, indirect lighting across the work, with minimal shadows. If it’s darker on one side, prop up a piece of white card on the shady side. This will reflect some light across the work and balance out the darker areas.

Setting up the shot

It’s a good idea to remove nearby clutter or anything that might cast a colour over the work.

If you are going to frame the work using a glazed frame, make sure you take the photo before framing it to avoid problems with reflections.

Hang the work on the wall – this is great for quilts or larger works. If you don’t have a handy wall space available, you could use a board covered with a pale, neutral cloth or sheet and pin your textile art to it. Or attach smaller works to a piece of white card propped up vertically.

Alternatively, lay the work flat on a piece of white card and take the photo from above.

Move the artwork around to find the best lighting location for capturing the texture of your textile art. Watch out for reflective surfaces on your artwork – adjust the position and lighting of the artwork to minimise reflections and glare.

Composing the shot

Hold up the smartphone directly in front of the centre of the artwork. Move forwards or backwards, or use your smartphone’s zoom function. You want the artwork to fill most of the image frame, but do leave some space around the outside so you can crop the photo to different dimensions later.

Check that the whole artwork is in focus, not just the central area. If the centre of the image is the only part that’s in focus, try moving further away and zooming in a little using your camera zoom. A sharp focus is important for giving you the best quality image of the stitches and textures.

“Make sure the focus is sharp when you take the photo, rather than trying to fix it later using software.”

Get things straight

Avoid distorted images, a condition known as keystoning. Check that the artwork appears straight, not skewed. Position the smartphone square on and make sure you’re not shooting at an angle with the camera tilted too far up or down. Your phone may have a grid function to help with this.

Taking the photo

Keep your smartphone super steady – use a tripod or stand firmly and brace your arms, holding your elbows tightly against your body to ensure as much stability as possible.

Take the photo, then zoom in and check all areas of the image for sharpness and clarity. Take several photos so you have lots to choose from.

If possible, after you’ve taken a few photos, preview them on a bigger screen, like a laptop or tablet. You can then make any final adjustments to your setup in order to capture the best quality photos of your work.

Cropping & editing

Use your phone’s photo app or computer software to crop or rotate the image. If necessary, adjust the brightness, contrast or colour saturation. Make sure the colours are accurate – white areas should appear white. Try tweaking the white balance settings and/or the colour settings to improve the colour accuracy. The image should be as true to life as possible.

Avoid using sharpening tools when editing your photo, as they can negatively affect the quality of the image. Instead, aim to get the sharpest possible image when you take the photo.

Save your images at your device’s highest-quality JPG setting. A high-resolution and larger file size will be needed for any photos you want to print.

You may need to create smaller files for emailing or to use online on a website – an image size of around 1800 pixels wide (giving a file size of 1-2Mb) is perfect for this.

If the textural details are particularly important in your artwork, take a separate set of close-up (macro) shots.

For three-dimensional textile sculptures, choose the best place to focus on to get as much of the piece in focus as possible. Then, take some detail shots from different angles to capture the sculptural shape of the work and show any interesting folds or layers in the fabric.

“Take whole artwork photos, as well as detail shots to highlight interesting areas of texture.”

More tips & tricks

Seeking that perfect photo of your art? Good lighting and a sharply focused image are key. Here are some extra ideas to try.

If lighting is a problem and you find you have to use artificial lights, look for some daylight bulbs. You could also try to diffuse any harsh lighting using a white sheet or a piece of white plastic placed in front of the light source. With safety in mind, take care to avoid the light overheating.

If you’re using a tripod, set the timer function to take the photo a few seconds after pressing the button – this can help to further reduce camera shake and ensure really sharp images.

You can also adjust the exposure brightness and the white balance in your smartphone camera settings before taking the photo. This can help you capture the colours so that they look true to life. Remember to aim for an accurate reproduction of your work.

Finally, you decide that today’s the day! You’re going to start that creative project you’ve been dreaming about.

You gather some fabric scraps you’ve been saving. You find your old sewing box. You clear a space at the kitchen table and…

And then what?

You realise you’re not sure where to begin. So you think maybe you should look up some techniques first. You open your laptop to do some research.

But there’s so much information… Your inbox needs checking while you’re here. Oh, and you should probably put another load of washing on. And didn’t you promise to call your friend? And it’s almost time to start dinner anyway…

Another day slips by without creating anything.

You tell yourself you will make a start tomorrow, when you have more time. When you’ve researched a bit more. When you’re a bit more more organised. When life is less busy.

But you’re not alone. In fact, you’re in excellent company. Every accomplished textile artist started exactly where you are now, with a desire to create and uncertainty about how to begin.

The difference between you and them? They found a way to start. And today, we’re going to show you how you can too.

The time trap

“I’ll create when I have more time,” you tell yourself. But here’s the painful truth: That mythical expanse of free time will never arrive. Life has a way of filling every available moment – unless you decide to claim some for yourself.

Every day you put off starting is another day of creativity lost forever. Another day without discovering the joy that comes from working with your hands to make something meaningful and personal.

Laura Otten, a Stitch Club member, told us: “Before, I thought I had to have big chunks of time to put into making art.”

“Now I understand that’s not the case and I am working far more regularly because of it. I can get something done in 30 minutes or less, and then tomorrow, I can spend another 30 minutes.”

“And eventually, I’m going to have something to show for it.”

“Doing workshops online that I can revisit in my own time, helps me break things into manageable chunks.”

Laura Otten, Stitch Club Member

The overwhelm obstacle

You stare at blank fabric, paralysed by the fear of starting.

Or maybe your mind buzzes with too many possibilities about which technique to choose. Raw-edge or turned-under appliqué? Paint the background fabric first? Print photos on fabric? Finish the piece with hand stitching or machine stitching?

The questions keep lining up, until the weight of choices crushes your creative spark entirely.

6 simple ways to unleash your creativity (in small pockets of time)

1. Embrace the power of tiny

Forget masterpieces. Start with moments.

Celebrated textile artist Clarissa Callesen puts it perfectly: “When a child learns how to play the piano, we don’t expect them to compose an original symphony. They play Mary Had A Little Lamb over and over again, and then progress to more challenging tunes as they go.”

Try one of these ideas:

• A single experimental stitch during your coffee break
• Fifteen minutes of playing with stitch techniques or collaging colourful fabrics, first thing in the morning
• Make one small sample square per week

Your artistic journey begins with a single stitch – so why not pick up some fabric and thread and give it a go?

2. Fall in love with the process

The magic isn’t just in the completion of an art piece – it’s in the moments of creation.

And textile artist Monica Bennett discovered how even small creative moments can be productive: “Making samples gives me the confidence to tackle larger or more intricate pieces. I can try out a concept or thought beforehand, and then see how and where I could develop it.”

Try to imagine:

• The meditative rhythm of needle through fabric
• Asking yourself “What if I do this…?” instead of “What should I do next…?”
• The satisfaction of seeing your unique vision emerge, experiment by experiment, stitch by stitch

3. Use limits as launchpads

Complete freedom can be paralysing. Instead, why not try:

• Choosing just three colours 
• Working with only one type of stitch
• Using only the materials you already have

Watch how these boundaries can spark, rather than stifle, your creativity.

Sue Stone’s three-fabric, three-thread, three-colour Stitch Club workshop helps members avoid decision fatigue and unleash creativity.

Just look at the diverse, beautiful pieces created by Stitch Club members Linda Florio (above), Ruth Atkinson (below left) and Debbie Greene (below right) using these simple constraints.

4. The journey of discovery

Every perceived “mistake” is an invitation to:

• Let your “wrong turns” lead to new techniques
• Work with imperfections to develop your unique style
• Turn missteps into creative opportunities

Wendy Kirwood explains her breakthrough moment: “I wasn’t happy with the look that my pale threads were giving my piece.“

“So I started cutting the stitches to remove them, and things started fraying. But, actually, this looked really appealing, so I embraced my mistake, and kept the cut threads.”

5. Let structure set you free

Having a clear path forward doesn’t mean being inflexible or not instinctive, but it eliminates the energy-draining question of “What next?”. Your path could be:

• Following a workshop structure
• Creating your own step-by-step plan
• Setting simple daily goals

When you know what to do next, you spend less time thinking and more time creating. Your subconscious mind keeps working on ideas between sessions, leading to unexpected breakthroughs. 

6. On the shoulders of giants

Give yourself permission to:

• Learn from artists you admire
• Practice techniques that inspire you
• Combine influences to find your voice

Textile artist Sabine Kaner reassures us: “Being influenced by other people’s work is quite normal and it’s all part of the process of discovering more about yourself.”

“You will eventually pull away from that and start introducing things into your work that are unique to you.”

Clarissa Callesen adds: “Originality is a concept that we’ve put up on a pedestal as the ultimate.”

“But I think that when we concentrate too much on originality it stops us from following our own curiosity. Copying is normal as a starting point.”

“When you combine inspirations and techniques from different artists, you create the thing that is yours.”

Clarissa Callesen, Textile Artist

Your creative awakening awaits

That creative energy inside you? It’s not just a whim. It’s not just a hobby. It’s a vital part of who you are, waiting to emerge.

Every day you wait is another day of creative expression lost forever. But here’s the beautiful truth: You can start right now. Not when you have more time, or when you’ve mastered every technique. Now!

Think of it this way:

• Every textile artist you admire started exactly where you are
• Every stunning piece began with a single stitch
• Every creative journey starts with one small step

Take that step. Make that stitch. Join a community that understands and supports your creative journey.

Your artistic voice is waiting. Isn’t it time you let it speak?

Though these hand-stitched textiles at first appear simplistic – some might say even child-like with their primary colours and candidly scripted text – further examination makes it clear that a great deal of thought has gone into these works.

The chattering ‘monkey mind’ spills out onto the fabric, countered with calming insights. In these artworks, you can interpret the duality of the world’s concerns juxtaposed with the mindfulness of walking the middle path – and the ultimate solution of being at peace.

Anthony works from his home in Brighton in the UK. He developed his artistic skills organically in his 30s, having learnt the basics from his mother in childhood. 

During a difficult period in his life, Anthony found that sorting through a bag of colourful fabric scraps helped him to deal with his anxieties and regain a state of calm. Little by little, he developed these scraps into small collages. Today, his artworks are being exhibited in the UK and internationally. 

In the true Buddhist tradition of loving kindness, or metta, Anthony gives back to the world, by managing inclusive arts projects for a small user-led mental health charity. His story epitomises the phrase ‘every cloud has a silver lining’ and is encouragement for us all to ‘keep calm and carry on stitching’.

A turning point

What initially attracted you to textiles as a medium? How was your imagination captured?

Anthony Stevens: Growing up, I had no plans to become an artist, it simply didn’t occur to me that it would, or could, be an option. However, life often has its own agenda that can sometimes run in opposition to what we think is best for us, and I feel that this is a rather wonderful thing.

Hastings Has Nirvana Too is based around a watershed experience in my early 30s when I was leading a life that I had built on shifting sands, that was beginning to crumble. Amidst the turmoil, I did what I always do when struggling, and started to chant ‘nam myoho renge kyo, nam myoho renge kyo’ over and over again.

I ‘heard’ a very quiet inner voice say ‘the answer to your prayers lies within your current circumstance’. I changed the focus of my chanting from denial of the experience of that moment to one of gratitude. It was at this moment that I felt as if I dropped through the surface of a polluted and rubbish strewn sea into the most beautiful clear water below.

The experience was full of paradoxes. I had never experienced anything like it, and yet it was intimately familiar. It seemed to come from within and yet it also felt that it was coming from without.
I had never felt such peace and security, and yet outwardly everything was so chaotic. Yet, the very clear message welled up from deep within me ‘everything is ok’. The intensity of this experience passed quickly, but the vestige of it remained.

During the following year, instinct led me to buy a large bag of colourful scrap fabric from a dress shop. I spent many hours sifting through the pile, untangling things; sorting the scraps into different piles and putting them back in the bag. I found this activity immensely calming and satisfying.

“Every piece of fabric had inherent value and potential: I had to either wait for the right time, or learn how to work with it.

As it turns out, this has been a good metaphor for life – and people!”

Anthony Stevens, Textile artist

I made it a rule not to discard anything as it might prove valuable at a later date, even if I couldn’t think of how to use it at that moment. 

It dawned on me that this was a direct reflection of what was happening for me internally. A memory of sitting with my mom as a child while she made things came into conscious thought, and I slowly started to make little collages from the scraps. 

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

My mother was my earliest influence when it comes to textiles and needlework. She was a very talented, amateur dressmaker.

I’d often sit with her when she was working on a project and rummage through her sewing box. To stop me doing this and distracting her, she would make little cotton bags and get me to draw on them. She’d give me a large darning needle and wool, show me how to do a basic stitch and tell me to colour in the picture. This is still very much the way I work now.

Mindful embroidery

Your ethos – based on your narratives, thoughts and themes – is the basis for your work. Can you tell us how this developed?

The development of my ethos has been a very natural and organic process that’s directly connected with the daily (well, almost daily) Nichiren Buddhist practice that I’ve carried out for many years. I feel there’s a direct interplay between the internal world and what plays out externally. 

I feel that Buddhism and embroidery are both very good tools for observing the mind. They both provide space to explore in depth the personal and shared human experience. 

When engaged mindfully, room is made for our inherent creative wisdom to bubble up from our depths and filter through our discrete personalities. It can take the raw materials of our lives – the good, the bad and the ugly – and transform them into something wonderful. 

“The texture of our lives changes when given time and attention, just as cloth does when it’s held and worked with for long periods. It softens, but paradoxically becomes stronger, when the repetitive act of stitching adds layers as a story or image is played out.”

Anthony Stevens, Textile artist

Colouring with thread

Which topics and themes influence your work? Why do these inspire you?

In brief, I suppose I’m interested in what Buddhism refers to as the three poisons: greed, anger and ignorance; how we deal with them and also how these things show up in the human experience and the world at large, such as in consumerist culture and war.

As for why? Well, for better or worse, I have a rather generous personal share of all three, so I’m not short on inspiration! For me, it’s a matter of recognising the poison in our lives and slowly turning it into medicine.

Stitching with faith

I’m naturally very curious, so if a particular subject matter, artist or image grabs my attention, I’ll spend a lot of time researching and just soaking things up. Doing this makes life such a rich experience.

Everything can inform and be a source of inspiration. Because of this, I tend to carry notebooks with me to jot down observations, thoughts and feelings as they occur. I also note any particular themes or images that occur during my daily Buddhist chanting.

“I think that there’s an element of faith involved in making something, that if you keep moving forward, the next step will appear.”

Anthony Stevens, Textile artist

What, or who, inspires you, and why?

That is a tough question. All manner of people and things are inspiring. I think anyone who demonstrates courage and compassion is inspiring, especially in difficult circumstances.

Organic and low-tech

How do you develop ideas for your work?

I’ve had no formal artistic training. My development has been a process of trial, error and lots of time spent making work. I don’t have a particularly rigid process of working. Sometimes I can see a whole piece in my mind’s eye and I work towards that. 

At other times, a piece might start with just a phrase or fragment of an idea from a sketchbook or an observation. This becomes a much more intuitive way of working and I have to trust the process. Or, I might have made a collage at an earlier date that evolves into a piece of textile artwork. This is especially useful if time is an issue. 

But in general, whatever the method I’m working with, I tend to chunk everything down and create the hand embroidered imagery on a hoop, which I later appliqué onto the background. The background is usually laid onto blue felt and hand stitched together. 

Every layer will have its own meaning and purpose. My process is all very organic and decidedly low-tech.

What fabrics, threads and other materials do you like to use in your work?

I use all manner of threads and materials. Wherever possible, I’ll use recycled or secondhand fabrics. These might be gifted to me, sourced from old clothing, or found. I do buy a large roll of felt every year from a shop called Fabric Land. I’ll also buy calico from there too.

A bit like inspiration, materials can be found from many different sources. One particular treasure was a beautiful cotton duvet cover a friend gifted me. I was able to create a whole series of commissioned works from this – it was lovely to work with, too.

No such thing as rubbish

Do you have a piece of your work that holds particularly fond memories?

Yes – any piece that I thought was rubbish and put away. These pieces have always become the starting point for something that I’ve really valued making. This can be due to time and seeing things from a different perspective, or because they can be deconstructed or become the ‘missing piece’ for a current work. I love it when this happens.

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

Time: making it and having enough of it. One of the things that I particularly enjoy about hand embroidery and sewing is the sense of flow that can occur. This can be quite difficult to achieve when the pockets of time are short or irregular and there are the distractions of work and other things. 

I’m not sure that I’ve yet overcome this particular challenge, but I find working early in the morning and in the latter part of the evening very useful.

It’s all about you

What advice would you give to an aspiring textile artist?

Put your whole self into your work, note what interests you and follow that. Also, just keep on making and don’t disregard anything you make. Its value might not reveal itself until sometime in the future. 

If you’re really struggling with something, just let it be and put it away. When the time is right, it could be the groundwork for the best thing you ever make.

Anthony Stevens is a self-taught textile artist based in Brighton, UK.

Anthony is represented by the Candida Stevens Gallery, having been discovered via the organisation Outside In. He is also represented by Copenhagen Outsider Art Gallery in Denmark and has shown work at London Art Fair and Collect Art Fair. His work has been in solo and group shows in Berlin, Copenhagen, Frankfurt, Brighton and London. Anthony works as a project coordinator, managing inclusive arts projects for Recovery Partners, a small user-led mental health charity.

Artist website: Anthony Stevens (Candida Stevens Gallery)
Instagram: @wabisabistar

The two artists had known each other for a long time so they quickly grasped the potential benefits of working together. Each gained insights from the other’s work while meeting online and in the studio.

Amanda was able to incorporate weavings made by Johanna, which added an extra element of interest to her compositions. And Amanda’s experiments triggered new ideas for Johanna. This co-working experience helped to motivate them both and accelerate their progress.

When you read on, you’ll find inspiration and ideas for working with others, and discover how collaboration can elevate your art to a new level. Through a productive phase of shared activity, Johanna and Amanda were able to release feelings of protectiveness of their own work, bounce ideas off each other, and allow their work to evolve into a cohesive gathering of exhibits. 

There’s more than one way to stimulate your creative ideas – and collaborative working might be just what you are looking for.

Accumulating, remembering, archiving…

Can you tell us a little about the art you make?

Amanda Britton: Utilising unconventional materials including paper, vellum, resin and plexiglass, the work I make is like intricate fabrics, ‘woven’ with a variety of techniques, colours, and constructions.

Recently I’ve been thinking a lot about the concept of migration – moving towards some things and away from others. The ways in which we shift, change and create patterns, rituals and repetition. 

Creating intersections, remembering, and archiving the parts that are left behind, my work takes the form of sewn collages on paper, bringing together fragments of material, paper, and found objects – or casts of those objects. 

I’ve always been interested in the perpetuation of relationships between people and the exploration of families, place, narrative and language. Concerned with documentation and preservation, my work is personal in concept, yet quirky and humorous in delivery. 

Johanna Norry: My work employs the traditional techniques of weaving, hand knitting, coiling, embroidery and stitching. Often I create work that combines comforting materials with unexpected forms. I take a similar approach when I am collaging and working with photos, whether family snaps or found images, or mining memories – working with real and metaphorical archives. 

My artistic process is to respond to my research in a way that culminates with art and installations that are themselves a sort of documentation, whether an accumulation or manipulation of evidence. The resulting work might appear incomplete, and distorted, with only a fraction of the truth remaining, as revealed by my material interpretations. 

I used to see my textile work and my collage work as separate. Recently, those lines began to blur. It began with appliqué textile collage and quilted portraits, and morphed into woven photos, piecing together my hand woven and hand knitted material in the same manner as I might assemble various photos and papers into a more traditional collage. 

The metaphors of weaving, stitching and collage are always at the forefront of my art making thought process. My work is usually about my inner life, my identity, my values and obsessions, my connection to my family and ancestors, and I combine disparate parts as a way of illustrating how I am made up inside – different parts, different experiences and different inheritances, sometimes cohesive and sometimes incongruous. 

What initially attracted you to textiles as a medium? 

Amanda: My mother, Heather Britton, ignited my passion for textile art and design. I grew up falling asleep to the hum of her sewing machine – she’s a novice sewer and also worked in the carpet industry for more than 40 years. 

Johanna: My husband’s mother was a textile artist and weaver, with a weaving studio in Rochester, New York. She had several weavers who came to her studio each day to weave her commissions. Sadly, she died from cancer just a few years after I met her. I inherited everything from her studio including her loom, her tools, her yarn and her notes. 

I was pregnant at the time and the last thing I had time for was learning to weave. It all went into storage and I made myself a promise that I would learn to weave on the same schedule she did When my son turned five, I signed up for a weaving class. I was immediately hooked and took classes for several years. 

One of my weaving teachers suggested I take a dyeing class at Georgia State University. After just a few weeks I knew that I wanted to make art and be in the textiles classroom, for the rest of my life. 

While pursuing my Textiles BFA and MFA, my work expanded beyond weaving, and incorporated embroidery, knitting, digital processes, piecing and quilting, and felting. I chose the process that I thought best suited the concept I was exploring.

As an older student, others assumed that I already knew how to do all these things, but it was all new to me. The last time I’d used a sewing machine was when I got a C grade for a wraparound skirt made in my junior high home economics class. 

My gravitation toward fibres wasn’t based on familiarity of technique, but rather the familiarity with fabric. We adorn our bodies and homes with fabric, and the textures, patterns and colours can elicit memories and nostalgic longing.

My work with fibre may have started with the inheritance of a loom, but I really can’t imagine any other medium being better suited for communicating my ideas about the human experience.

Long term support

Tell us more about how this collaboration came about… 

Johanna: Amanda and I met in graduate school at the University of Georgia. For two years, our studios were next door to each other. It was awesome. And while I think I was subtly aware of the specialness of that time, and the luxury of devoting time to making our own work within a supportive community, I wasn’t quite prepared for how much I would miss it when I moved on. 

It turned out that Amanda also missed it and, fairly soon after she graduated, we decided to meet occasionally, if not regularly, to support each other and critique each other’s work. 

While our show’s name Common Thread refers to the relationship we began to observe in our current work, the truth is there was already a thread – conceptually, if not aesthetically – in our graduate school work as well.

Amanda’s work was tethered to her family memories and the ephemeral nature of memory itself, and my work was also rooted in family, in research, and unearthing hidden family secrets and exposing them to the light of day through my art.

We had both been regularly making and showing work in juried shows since graduation. But we were also both beginning to accumulate work that felt like it needed to be shown all together.

‘Our decision to work towards a show together, Common Thread, was so organic that I cannot even remember who thought of it first.’

Johanna Norry, Textile artist

Once we had decided to collaborate, it motivated both of us to flesh out work we had started, and to make more, knowing that if our proposals were accepted, we would need to do a lot of work to fill a gallery. As we were making new pieces, that’s when the collaboration conversation began – the intentional back and forth development process, responding to elements we observed in each other’s work.

Back & forth process

Tell us about the collaboration process…

Johanna: Amanda and I began to prepare for our first duo show at Berry College, Georgia, in the summer of 2023. Initially, we worked separately in our home studios, communicating by texting photos of our work to each other.

Then we organised several joint studio days where we would bring our works in progress – works we considered finished – as well as remnants, and uncommitted bits of cloth that we had created by one method or another. 

Pieces migrated from my table to hers, and vice versa. For example, I had a long and narrow woven test sample, which Amanda saw with fresh eyes; she cut it in two and incorporated it in an installation of dyed organza strips that she had sewn ephemera into. 

Our process was like a conversation – a back and forth. I would see something in Amanda’s work, like the way she was using family beach photos, shells and references to the migration of sea birds. I realised that I also had 1970s family photos taken at the beach that I could use, and my own collection of rocks and shells.

This led to my weaving together old family photos, pairing them with collages of woven remnants, and combining rocks and shells with off-loom wovens in plexiglass boxes, as companions to Amanda’s natural history display-inspired assemblages.

How did you achieve the collaboration, logistically? 

Amanda: Thankfully, both Johanna and I live and work relatively close to one another in North Georgia. Over the summer, my university’s facilities were open and available, which allowed us a central location to meet and make. While we did call and meet online, our most productive days were those shared in the same studio space. 

Our advice for anyone collaborating or wanting to initiate a collaborative project is to let it be organic. Partner with someone you respect and are excited by their work. Ask yourself if you see a connection in your work, while still being distinct from each other.

‘A collaborative connection might be the theme, process or an aesthetic. If there’s a connection between you, that you think others could see as well, then that’s a good place to start.’

Amanda Britton, Textile artist

While it was awesome that we could meet and work together in the studio, it would equally be possible to collaborate with someone in another city, thanks to Zoom and ease of sharing virtually.

Evolution & unification

Did the project’s exhibition feel as cohesive as you hoped?

Amanda: We had a lot of wonderful feedback from both students and staff at Berry College. The work covers so many different techniques, mediums and interests, including photography, textiles, sculpture and installation, yet it was unified by colour and archiving concepts. 

We wanted to push the visuals and create an unexpected viewer experience. I think we captured this with scale variations and colour juxtaposition of the work.

However, and I think Johanna would agree with me, as soon as the exhibition went up we knew the work would likely shift and evolve as it travelled to its next location. Edits and considerations have been vital throughout. 

How did you help your audience understand the connections built through the collaboration? 

Amanda: Johanna and I are very intentional about the layout of our travelling exhibition. Not only have we considered the space of each gallery (the Moon Gallery at Berry College is expansive with low ceilings, whereas Westobou is a tight space with high ceilings), but we are also interested in conceptualising new or alternative display methods. 

Like paintings, textile works tend to be displayed in very traditional ways and we knew we wanted to activate the space differently. Whether hanging woven pieces high and then paper collages low, we are intentionally and thoughtfully curating the works by colour, technique and concurring themes.

Also in this duo display, we’re not concerned with labelling every piece with its maker and materials – we like the idea of just letting the viewer experience the work as a unified whole.

Did you have any previous experience that helped prepare you for working on a duo project?

Johanna: In graduate school, Amanda and I, along with another textile artist and two ceramic artists, collaborated on a show called Undermined. The collaboration involved the ceramic artists making work, primarily functional objects, but also more sculptural and figurative work, then the three textile artists set about undermining the functionality of the objects.

We bound plates together with thread, which included my knitted tubes that connected the cups to each other, and a web of screen printed silk organza created by Amanda. 

Undermined was my first experience of collaboration as a sort of call and response process. The Common Thread collaboration was similar, but the conversation was more of a repeated back and forth process, rather than a simple call and response.

Other group shows I’d been in were different, in that I was invited because my work was perceived as fitting into an already existing concept. The artworks in those shows were pieces I had already made and had not been created in such a conversational way.

The benefits of collaboration

Could you choose one particular favourite artwork and share how the collaborative process improved it?

Amanda: Carapace Capsules is one of my favourite collaborative pieces in the show. The piece is small in scale but allows for an intimacy with the work.

Both Johanna and I are very interested in the concept of the archive: questioning what is collected and what memories are retained through these mementoes. These transparent boxes and trays felt like precious time capsules that combine both of our unique perspectives. 

Johanna: Possibly my favourite collaboration of the exhibit relates to how we installed our work together, and how we viewed our work in relation to each other’s art. 

We decided to install Amanda’s work Hereditary Smoker Series, a pair of plexi-trapped textiles and digitally printed vellum, next to my work Sapelo Dreams: Asleep in a Live Oak, a long clasp-woven cloth and a pair of woven collages I made from weavings on hand-painted warps.

I would never have installed these collages on their own in this way, higher and lower than usual. But it was all about the interaction of the work – we invited the viewer to see my work through Amanda’s work, which was mounted on hinges perpendicular to the wall. 

Amanda’s work was about her grandmother, and my pieces were about my own family memories of places (Sapelo Island, a favourite family camping spot) and about our lives as a process of repair, piecing ourselves (back) together from a combination of inheritances and experiences.

I think both our works were elevated by their proximity and how they interacted with each other.

What were the main benefits of collaborating and would you do it again (with other artists or with each other)? 

Amanda: Since this experience, I’ve been more receptive to both working with others and using techniques, processes and mediums that I’m not as familiar with. For instance, I am in the beginning stages of a collaborative project with a local sculptor for an outdoor sculpture installation. Without this experience with Johanna, I wouldn’t have been as easily persuaded to join in on this opportunity. 

Johanna: I’d collaborate again, most definitely. And I’m thinking of including a collaboration project in my textiles course next semester. I’d love to give my students an opportunity to experience the impact of working with another artist and the effect it can have on the direction of their work.

Do you have any tips for readers wanting to set up their own collaborative project?

Johanna: My advice would be to begin with trust. I already knew and trusted Amanda. I knew that while our processes were not the same, that they were compatible. A collaboration could be successful with two artists who were previously strangers, but you can’t go into a collaboration with a fear of the other artist stealing your ideas or accusing you of stealing theirs.

‘If you begin with respect, trust, and a commitment to honour each other in the work that comes out of the collaboration, I think it will be a positive experience and it will result in elevating both artists’ work.’

Johanna Norry, Textile artist

Amanda and I have a show coming up in 2025 where the curator has paired us with another duo of textile artists who know each other, but we don’t know them or their processes, and I am hopeful it will be successful and an uplifting experience.

Amanda: Setting and sticking to a timeline would be my biggest tip – deadlines for a show or an upcoming application can help with the planning of your timeline. 

Also, it’s handy for both contributors to be working on a similar scale or technique. For example, Johanna and I both knew we wanted to create long narrow pieces to have as a visual mirroring effect.

When she suggested creating an eight foot woven assemblage Sometimes, It Just Fits, that allowed a direction for my nine foot collection display A Sea of Sinister Dots. These pieces were displayed across the gallery from each other, and I love the effect of the scale and central placement.

How has the collaboration affected your own art practice? 

Amanda: Before this experience, I would say I was closed off to the idea of collaboration.

I am very goal-oriented and independently motivated, however, this experience has allowed me to see how collaboration is important for growth – not only as a person but to allow one’s art to grow as well.

It is amazing to have a partner to bounce around ideas for colours, techniques and concepts with.

Johanna: I’ve always sought feedback. Whenever I make something, at the very least my husband gets called in to look at it, and I value his response.

But I’ve also felt possessive about what I’ve made – or perhaps protective is a better word. Like I had some sort of parental responsibility to defend my art, since I had made it.

I think the collaborative, sharing process – where things I’ve made have been incorporated into Amanda’s work, and things she’s made have gone into mine – has expanded my emotional attachment to my artworks. I feel more accepting of what they become once they’re made.

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

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

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

Essential textiles

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Are there particular topics or themes that inspire your work?

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

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

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

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

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

How do you develop ideas and plan your work?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

An emotional dialogue

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Woman Interrupted

Tell us about a favourite artwork…

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

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

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

Would you share a little about your community projects?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Heewha Jo, Textile artist

Creating impact with thread

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

Heewha Jo, Textile artist

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

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

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

On the shoulders of giants

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

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

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

Heewha Jo, Textile artist

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

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

The language of symbols

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

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

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

Making up for lost time

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

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

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

The creative process

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

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

Heewha Jo, Textile artist

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

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

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

The mother of invention

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

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

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

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

Heewha Jo, Textile artist

Is it worth making?

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

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

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

Heewha Jo, Textile artist

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

The power of curating

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

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

Seeing the light

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

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

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

Heewha Jo, Textile artist

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

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

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

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

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