You might think such extensive mash-ups could lead to art that overwhelms, but that’s hardly the case. April expertly balances colour and composition to create cohesive works that are surprisingly neat at first glance. Even upon close inspection, April’s layers of texture and pattern seamlessly merge and often surprise the eye.

In addition to offering us a look into her process and favourite things, April also shares how renowned UK textile artists helped her discover the power of simple stitches and inspired her to let go of her need for control. She explains how Constance Howard and others have taught her that self-expression doesn’t have to be complicated when it comes to stitchwork. And we think you’ll agree.

Apron strings

April Sproule: My earliest memory of making something with textiles is making an apron with my maternal grandmother, Grandma Ollie, when I was seven years old. She was a tiny woman who lived in a small house filled with things she had made. She loved to sew, knit and paint.

I remember carefully cutting out the apron on her kitchen table and sewing it on her portable Singer sewing machine. Her patience was infinite as she taught me those brand-new skills. I was amazed we had made something useful out of seemingly nothing with a scrap of fabric and some thread.

Around the same time my paternal grandmother, Grandma Petersen, began teaching me to do hand sewing and stitching. She taught me how to cut old clothing into squares using a cardboard template. Those hand-pieced squares would later become a quilt top. She also taught me hand embroidery and lace making.

I have very fond memories of being sequestered away in one of their homes on rainy winter days happily stitching away for hours. It’s no wonder sewing and stitching are now like breathing to me. They are something I have always done, and those basic skills would go through many transformations in years to follow. Back then, I had no idea how those early experiences would impact my life.

Textile artist inspiration

During high school, I participated in a work study programme that involved writing a business plan and starting my first little business. I set about making a variety of leather goods, clothing and bags to sell at local shops and galleries.

After learning the technical skills I badly needed, at the San Francisco School of Fashion Design, I worked for several different US and Canadian manufacturers. My area of expertise was new product development and production management for companies making leather goods, accessories and clothing. Since 2001, I’ve been a full-time studio artist working as both a designer and workshop facilitator.

In 2011, I developed a commercial collection of 25 stencil designs inspired by Japanese Katagami stencils for painting on fabric. I began using the stencils for all sorts of things while teaching my painting techniques to others. I started making upcycled clothing for myself and linen bags to sell with the stencils, and then I added hand stitching to them. The stencilling and hand stitching worked well together. Next came a collection of hand embroidery patterns and kits in 2015.

Shortly after that, I started seeing online images from UK textile artists who were doing amazing work using hand stitching. I was especially inspired by Mandy Pattullo, Claire Wellesley-Smith, Louise Baldwin, Cas Holmes and Aideen Canning. These incredible women not only eradicated the notion of creating perfect little stitches, but they used stitching in such an expressive and expansive manner. Theirs was a much freer and innovative style of hand stitch that appealed to me on many levels.

I admired those artists’ ability to move away from the expected and express their own unique, wild and wonderful styles.

It was as if a door had opened, and anything was possible on the other side of that threshold.

April Sproule, Textile artist

Freestyle stitching

My new norm became letting go of the need for control and embracing the idea of self-expression.

Upon further investigation, everything led back to the work and influence of Constance Howard. I pored over her books, and my entire perspective on hand stitching changed tremendously. I didn’t necessarily change the stitches I used, but I became mindful of how those stitches were used. One simple stitch could be used in 20 or more different variations.

When I developed my collection of hand embroidery patterns, I thought using lots of different complex or unusual stitches added more interest.

Constance Howard took a different approach. It was more about starting with one simple stitch and then tweaking it, contorting it, and reimagining all its possibilities.

Now as I go back and look through Constance’s books, I especially love seeing her illustrations. These days I see hand stitching as another form of mark making. And as I switch back and forth between pen and ink illustration and my hand stitching, each medium provides inspiration for the other.

I studied Constance Howard’s approach and realised the complexity of stitches wasn’t as important as I’d first thought.

April Sproule, Textile artist

Natural inspirations

I am inspired by many things, but my greatest inspiration comes from nature. Nature provides me with a never-ending treasure trove of ideas. It could be insects, botanical specimens or even diatoms and other microscopic images that pique my interest and beg me to take a closer look.

I live in an astonishingly diverse beautiful area in northern California. In just a few minutes, I can be exploring tide pools along our rugged coastline or trek deep into a Redwood forest where rays of sunlight pierce the thick canopy of branches and illuminate the areas below in a spectacular display.

Things that are in a state of erosion or decomposition are much more interesting than a perfect specimen. And surface design with textiles, pen and ink illustration, printmaking, collage, and watercolour are all mediums that supply me with lots of ideas and inspiration.

I’m interested in capturing the essence of my subject matter, rather than in replicating it in a photorealistic way.

April Sproule, Textile artist

Creative sketches

My work is developed in different ways, but it usually begins with a feeling or mood I want to convey. Early in the morning, I often work in a little handmade book where I experiment with different ways of combining paper, fabric and stitch in new and interesting ways that can lead to larger projects. 

Often my work begins with what I call a production sketch. It’s just a vague idea and a starting point, but it’s a very important step because it takes what only exists in my mind into the physical world where it becomes tangible.

Introducing colour

Next comes colour, which is one of the most valuable design elements. Colour is what first attracts or repels viewers to our work. I usually start with white fabric or pieces on which I’ve applied some sort of surface design techniques.

Scale, the overall finished size of the piece, comes next. Are the details going to be lost if a person sees it from a distance? Those choices inform all my decisions on which mediums to use.

I’ve learned to worked much more intuitively. All I need is one idea to get started. It could be the colour green and then everything develops from there.

Every piece I make takes me on a journey of learning and exploration.

April Sproule, Textile artist

Figuring things out

I feel incredibly fortunate because I rarely get really stuck on a piece and give up on it. I am good at problem solving and figuring things out. It seems like a waste of time, energy and materials to give up on a piece and not finish it.

When I start a new project that is very involved, I clean up my studio and put everything in its place. Initially clutter can be a distraction, but that’s only in the beginning. Once my ideas start to flow, it is total chaos. I don’t clean up until the project is completely done.

Mixing things up

I use a wide variety of mixed media on fabric and paper. I especially enjoy working with dyes, paints, stencilling, printing, pen and ink, cyanotypes, and hand or machine stitch. Learning to do all of these things has been so much fun!

I’ve done lots of shibori dyeing with Procion dyes and indigo over the years. It’s so exciting to unwrap the cloth and see what has happened. And now I have all those fabrics to choose from and add to my textile art.

Using paints and inks on fabric and paper has been a great addition to my work. I use textile paints that don’t alter the hand of the fabric, and I’m pretty picky about that. I also love using walnut ink, sumi ink and India inks. Sometimes I just sit and draw stripes or dots with a pen or brush. Then it’s fun finding new ways to incorporate those pieces into my work.

I am also experimenting a lot with different papers. I won’t use papers that are either too delicate or too hard to stitch through. I still have a lot to learn about different types of paper, but that’s part of the research and excitement of learning something new.

Favourite fabrics

My absolute favourite fabrics to work with are linen, cotton sateen and silk. I use both vintage and new fabrics, but many of the vintage fabrics are just wonderful to work with. The linen is like butter to stitch through, and I love the texture of it. 

My next favourite fabric is cotton sateen, as the weave gives it a subtle sheen. It has a very nice hand, dyes beautifully and it is really easy to stitch through. And silk has long been a favourite of mine. I don’t ever use fusibles on it, as that would ruin the hand of the fabric. I have lots of silk left over from having a custom sewing business for 10 years. Now, I’m glad I saved all those fabrics.

Threads & stitches

For threads, I mostly use DMC cotton along with some hand-dyed threads. I‘d like to try linen thread but haven’t yet. My favourite stitches are the running stitch, stem stitch, straight stitches, rice stitch, couching, and the versatile blanket stitch. I also like the cretan stitch a lot, because it can be used in lots of different ways.

I took Sue Stone’s Exploring Texture and Pattern course in 2018. After finishing all the exercises, my style of stitching changed from using more complex decorative stitches to using very basic stitches in different forms and combinations.

My needle has become like my pen, and my hand stitching is now another form of mark making.

April Sproule, Textile artist

A few basic tools

I enjoy using good quality tools that last a long time, so I don’t have to replace them.

Really sharp scissors are very important. I have embroidery scissors, appliqué scissors, regular scissors, paper scissors and huge shears for cutting heavy fabrics. But mostly I just need a sharp little pair of embroidery scissors for cutting threads.

Fabric markers are also important. I use Frixion markers and have never had a problem with them. I like that I get nice clean lines with them. And of course, good needles make everything so much easier. I use mostly size 10 embroidery needles with a nice sharp point.

One of the greatest things about hand embroidery is you only need a few basic tools.

I do almost all of my actual stitching at night. I use a large floor model OttLite, and I could not sew without it. I usually do hand stitching for three hours or so every night. It’s become a daily practice I really enjoy.

My iPad is my favourite design tool. I use an app called Adobe Fresco for my illustrations. I start a piece, photograph it, and then draw mock up stitches on the photo to help with design options and decisions. I can add 10 layers of stitching, eliminate what I don’t like, AirDrop the image to my phone, and use it for reference as I stitch. It’s just like magic!

I think one of the best things you can do as an artist is try things outside of your comfort zone.

April Sproule, Textile artist

Silver linings

The biggest challenges I’ve faced as a professional artist were Covid related. From 2001-20, I operated a longarm quilting business, sold my wares online and as a vendor at shows, and I taught workshops on techniques I’d developed over the years. 2019 was an especially busy year for me. Then Covid reared its ugly head, and every single upcoming event I had scheduled was cancelled.

I decided to make the most of this unexpected free time by focusing on my art and volunteering for different textile art groups who support artists and textile art instructors. That gift of time gave me a chance to re-evaluate what I was doing and make some positive changes.

I closed my longarm quilting business and decided to stop vending at shows and started applying for grants. In 2019, I received a grant from a local arts foundation, and in 2020, I received a business grant from the state. Collectively, those funds made it possible for me to gain the technical training and equipment I needed to start teaching online.

I aim to spend half my time working and the other half creating art. I’m not there yet, but I will be some day. It’s also much easier to share what I do with others and help others achieve their creative goals.

I’ve found that pushing myself helps to grow my skills and proficiency.

My biggest artistic challenge was making the portraits in Sue Stone’s Stitch Your Story online course. I knew what a fabulous teacher Sue was, and it was really hard, but I learned so much along the way. I was really inspired by the work of the others in the course.

Designing my creative space

After leasing a commercial building for five years for my business and studio, I finally had a studio built behind my house in 2006. I needed room for my 14ft longarm quilting machine, space to teach my surface design workshops and a workspace for me to create my textile art.

I had lots of experience designing textile art projects, but designing a building was an entirely different experience. Luckily, I found a great designer and very good contractors to work with me.

The 24ft x 40ft (7.3m x 21.1m) two-story structure has nice high ceilings. Downstairs is my wet studio where I do my messy stuff like dyeing and fabric painting. I included a 6ft-wide stainless steel sink from a place that carried used restaurant equipment, and it has been a useful addition. There’s also lots of storage for art supplies and other stuff.

Upstairs is one large room where I sectioned off a full bathroom and walk-in closet. The kitchen area has cabinets that hold art supplies, and it was designed to accommodate appliances, but I would rather have the space.

One of my requests was to have lots of natural light. But I also needed wall space for art display and a large design wall. The designer was able to plan accordingly, so I have windows on three sides and plenty of wall space in between.

I had a 4ft x 8ft cutting table built with storage cabinets and shelving below. I knew my needs for this space would change over the years, so one of the best things I did was to outfit all my heavy equipment, like the cutting table and longarm machine, with heavy duty casters so I can easily move things around by myself. That has been a tremendous help.

The building is quite tall due to the high ceilings on each level, so I had a manual dumb waiter added to transport heavy items, like sewing machines, up to the second floor. We’ve had lots of great workshops and retreats here, and that dumb waiter has gotten a lot of use over the years.

Every morning I wake up really early, grab a strong cup of coffee, and head over to the studio. When time permits, I sit and draw for an hour in front of my big window before I start my day. I’m grateful for every moment I spend here. My family has always been very supportive of what I do, and none of this would’ve been possible without them.

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

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

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

Seductive transformation

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

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

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

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

A series of stories

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

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

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

Fashion design foundations

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

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

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

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

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

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

Adrian Smith, Textile artist

Fabrics unleashed

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

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

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

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

Courageous colours

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

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

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

Uplifting beauty

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

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

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

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

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

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

Swirling waves & quilling

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

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

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

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

Testing my patience

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sharing my techniques

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

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

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

Adrian Smith

Thoughts on social media

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

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

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

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

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

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

The stitched surroundings in which Sue carefully places her figures add a hint of mystery or surreal humour. And through her distinctive use of mark-making, free machine embroidery and mixed media, her characters come to life.

Sue’s career as an artist is one of discovery: learning how to harness the expressive potential of thread, experimenting with materials and gradually shaping the unique style that she’s known for. Find out how Sue’s love of textiles developed from an early age and discover her journey to becoming the renowned artist she is today.

Surreal narratives

How would you describe your work?

Sue Stone: I am best known for figurative, textural, stitched compositions which often suggest journeys through life, shaped by memory, observation and imagination. 

We all need light and shade in our lives, so my work continues to swing from the serious to a slightly surreal sense of humour whenever it needs to. 

The techniques I use during the making process are straightforward; a deliberately limited colour palette and a small vocabulary of hand embroidery stitches combined with machine stitch, appliqué and sometimes acrylic paint.

Recurring themes

Tell us about the stories behind your work…

Nearly all my work fits into one of my recurring themes. My two works created for the Broderers’ exhibition The Art of Embroidery, held at Bankside Gallery, London in 2025, hold messages around mental health, the innocent victims of turbulent times and the state of the world today.

I returned to pure hand and machine stitch for these two pieces. The only criterion for the exhibition was to use hand embroidery or machine embroidery or a combination of the two. 

A Glimpse of Calm Amidst the Chaos contrasts a 1940s family’s air of innocence with the turmoil around them. The work invites viewers to consider how much – or how little – the world has truly changed between the 1940s and the present day.

The Stuff of Nightmares evokes conflict, loss and chaos through layered textures, confronting viewers with haunting truths while revealing humanity’s fragility and resilience.

What I learned from these two works was that it’s hard not to reach for the paintbrush when you are used to the freedom of mixed media, but I really enjoyed the challenge of sticking to appliqué to add colour to the background. 

Evolving ideas

Would you share a little about your process?

Most of my work evolves during a long, slow period with major pieces taking months, or even years, to come to fruition. There’s a lot of thinking, gathering images and sometimes making drawings. As I begin to develop an artwork, it often starts life on a computer screen. The computer helps me to experiment and save time; I can reduce a composition to a simple line drawing and print it out.

Other times, I’ll develop samples during the research stages of a project and often those become part of a final composition.

Then comes the exciting part, starting the stitching. My stitched drawings are done using free machine embroidery or hand stitch. And I use hand stitching to add details, pattern and texture.

Sketchbooks & samplers

How do you plan your work?

I use a sketchbook to record thoughts, images and ideas, as well as for drawing. Drawing becomes a means of problem-solving as well as a way to express ideas on paper. A sketchbook is also useful for working out colour schemes and making notes of fabrics and suppliers. And it’s the perfect place to store small stitched samplers that can be used or referred to in the future.

I sometimes show my sketchbooks alongside my finished work. Most people are interested to see the process behind the finished piece, and I hope it encourages others not to be too precious about the contents – a sketchbook is only a means to an end.

“I enjoy exploring displacement, a sense of belonging or not belonging…”

Sue Stone, Textile artist

Search out the unexpected

What inspires your work?

I look for the out-of-place, the unexpected and the bizarre. I am an avid photographer and use my photos to create a constant visual record, both at home and on my travels.

I enjoy exploring displacement, a sense of belonging or not belonging, often by taking figures from old family photographs and juxtaposed into a modern day scene such as beside the work of street artists in London’s East End.

A life story in portraits 

Tell us about your long-running self-portrait series… 

A Life Story began in 2015 when I was invited by my former tutor and mentor, Alf Ludlam, to create an unusual self-portrait for an exhibition at Grimsby Fishing Heritage Centre. With a six-metre wall to fill, I decided to make one portrait for each year of my life – then 63 in total.

My original plan was to pare everything back to simple line drawings, but my instinct for detail soon took over. By the exhibition deadline I had completed 42 portraits, each measuring 26cm x 30cm (10″ x12″), which were shown as a work-in-progress. I finished all 63 in 2016 and exhibited them at the Knitting & Stitching Shows in London, Dublin and Harrogate, before showing them again at several other venues. 

Finding reference material for some portraits was difficult. My Dad’s photographs helped with early years, but many portraits came from memory, often sparked by clothes and hairstyles I remembered wearing. 

For me, A Life Story has become a companion as much as a body of work. It is a stitched autobiography, a record of who I have been and who I continue to become. It is flawed, imperfect, and unfinished – just like life itself. And as long as I can, I will keep stitching, adding one portrait at a time to the story of a life.

“A Life Story is a stitched autobiography, a record of who I have been and who I continue to become.”

Sue Stone, Textile artist

Art & family

Who were your early influences?

My earliest influences were my Dad who gave me my work ethic and the determination to succeed and my Mum, who was a tailoress. She taught me to use her Singer treadle sewing machine at about the age of six. From a very early age all I ever wanted to do was design and make clothes, first for my dolls and then for myself.

Mum was unfaltering in her support when I wanted to study at art school during a period when ‘grammar school girls didn’t really do that sort of thing’. My Dad was a Grimsby fish merchant during the 1950s and 1960s.

My art always has a connection to my own life or environment. This might be family and friends, time spent in London and on my travels, both at home and abroad, or something I’ve heard or experienced.

Embroidery as art

What was your route to becoming an artist?

In the 1970s, I studied fashion at St Martin’s School of Art (now UAL Central St Martins) and then textiles and embroidery at Goldsmiths College in London (now Goldsmiths, University of London), where I was taught by the pioneer textile artists Constance Howard, Christine Risley, and Eirian Short.

Constance Howard was a small charismatic person with bright green hair and the first time I met her she introduced herself as Mrs Parker. I had no idea who she was at the time, or of her importance in establishing textiles as an art form in the 20th century. She was just Mrs P, an inspiration to all her students who gave me my lifelong love of stitching.

Christine Risley was an inspirational teacher who taught machine embroidery and opened my eyes to the versatility of the sewing machine and the spontaneity you can get with free machine stitch.

Eirian Short introduced me to the 62 Group of Textile Artists in 1975, when I was first a member for a few years until other commitments got in the way of my stitching.

After art college I went into business and made a living from designing womenswear for 28 years. But I always knew I would return to stitching eventually, which I did in 2002 at the age of 50.

Telling textured stories

How has your work evolved over time? 

When I returned to stitching in 2002, my work was purely decorative and mainly abstract. I eventually came to figurative, narrative work in 2005 when I made my first self-portraits. I got there via artworks featuring historic tiles, gargoyles and landscapes. My work soon became more figurative, humorous and surreal. 

In more recent years I have experimented with scale and different ways to present my work, like wall hangings, modular work, assemblages and stretched work.

Which direction would you like to explore in the future? 

In the future, I will definitely continue telling my stories and experiment with the layering of stitch and paint, which is a constant balancing act. I’ll use these simple techniques to find even more texture and pattern. I would also like to investigate using small stitched elements on larger soft backdrops. Maybe they will be easier to ship to exhibitions!

Nothing is impossible

What advice would you give to an aspiring textile artist?

Be true to yourself and use your own voice to say what you want to say.

Always strive to make your next piece better than your last. If you falter, turn up the next day and try again!

Be determined and persistent, and always remember my Dad’s maxim:  ‘Nothing is impossible, the impossible just takes a bit longer’.

But Wendy Dolan pushes graphic dimension even further by adding print, paint and three-dimensional mediums to her layered fabrics. Stucco walls, mossy trees and crushed stones stand proud in fascinating fashion. Heavy stitching by hand and machine add further depth and movement. 

Wendy is offering a look into her techniques and favourite materials, including heat-activated ‘puffing’ media. You’ll also learn how tissue paper and packaging materials can create incredible textures.

Enjoy exploring Wendy’s world where surface treatment is literally taken to new heights.

A map of London

My earliest memories of creating with fabrics was making clothes for my dolls when I was eight or nine years old. My mother always knitted and made clothes for the family, so I started to also make garments for myself. 

I created my first embroidered work when I was 11. There was a small wool and haberdashery shop in the village that sold iron-on transfers. We purchased a design depicting a map of London and various UK emblems. That project started my lifetime love of stitch and textiles, and I still have the finished piece. A family friend noticed my interest in stitching and taught me many traditional hand embroidery techniques. 

Discovering textile techniques

While studying at school for my A level, the new art teacher encouraged me to take embroidery for one of the papers. She was so supportive, taking me to London to see embroidery exhibitions while helping me develop my design work in school. I shall always be grateful for her help and encouragement.

Having decided to pursue a career in teaching, I chose a BEd course which offered Art and Textiles as a core subject. That opened a whole new world of textile techniques, including freehand machine embroidery, fabric painting, printing, machine knitting and weaving. 

I soon realised I could achieve exciting textures and effects by combining a wide range of approaches, and I haven’t looked back since!

Places, maps & journeys

My inspiration comes from a variety of sources, including architecture, the landscape, still life, and maps and journeys.

I use my camera to capture images, and I record my ideas in a sketchbook. I combine pen and ink, watercolour and torn paper collage to develop my ideas and designs. I also create a torn paper collage for my colour scheme that I can use as a reference for printing and painting.

I begin a piece by exploring the design element, then experimenting with different materials. 

When I’ve finalised the proportions, I select and layer my fabrics to build up the design. I choose fabrics with contrasting textures and tones and tear them to add interest to the surface. If my design is architectural, I first transfer the image onto tracing paper, so I can see where I’m placing the fabrics.

I machine stitch the layers down using cotton thread, and then I add hand stitching and three-dimensional media if it’s appropriate. 

Once my surface design is prepared, I apply colour by painting and printing. Hand and machine stitch allow me to work further into the piece, making marks and textures with coloured thread. Sometimes I work intuitively and use the texture of a particular fabric to develop an idea. 

“Very often, the unexpected happens, producing more pleasing results.”

Wendy Dolan, Textile artist

Inked textures

The pigments I use are screen printing inks. I prefer the brand Sericol and have been using it for more than 45 years. I was introduced to Sericol pigments during my degree course, and I find them extremely versatile. They have a thick consistency that can be used for block printing, stenciling, mono printing, screen printing and applying with a palette knife.

The thickness of the inks gives me greater control when I apply them to my built-up designs. But because they are water-based, they can also be diluted with water and applied with a brush to create water colour effects. 

When working with the inks, I usually plan the process and have a good idea of the outcome. But I always keep an open mind and I’m happy to redirect my thoughts as I progress. It’s an exciting way to work, as very often, the unexpected happens, producing more pleasing results. 

Tools of the trade

I use a ceramic tile and a palette knife to mix my inks. For printing and mark making on fabric, I use a variety of wooden printing blocks, handmade printing blocks, sponges and stencils. I’ll also sometimes use household items such as packaging, bubble wrap and corrugated card. 

I apply colour using a sponge and lightly dab the block’s surface. Then I place the fabric on top of a padded surface to produce clear results when printing. A piece of thin foam or some newspaper is sufficient.

I make sure my fabrics are pre-washed to remove any dressing before creating any design. Some fabrics may soak up more colour than others, so I also always experiment with colour application before constructing a piece.

When I apply colour with a brush, I find it is easier to spray the surface lightly with water first. Printing is added after I’m done painting.

Adding dimension

I enjoy working with Xpandaprint (also sold as Expandit) to create texture and dimension. It’s a thick non-toxic medium that can be applied with a brush, roller or sponge. It expands when heated and then can be painted. I often use it to represent textured surfaces, such as crumbly walls, moss and lichen. 

Occasionally, I use modelling paste. I apply it thinly with a sponge or through a stencil. It creates interesting resist effects when painted. 

Incorporating tissue paper can also create interesting surface textures. I scrunch the paper in my hands and then tear it into small pieces. Then, I fuse the crumpled paper to fabric using Bondaweb or similar iron-on fusible. Finally, I paint the surface for further effect. 

I used this technique to create a crumbling wall texture in Kilpeck Church, adding cotton scrim for additional texture.

A variety of foam and Tyvek packaging can be useful; I distort them with heat to create exciting effects. For this, I always wear a mask and work outside or in a well-ventilated space, as some of those materials may give off fumes.

Fabric choices

I prefer using natural fabrics in my art. Calico is my preferred base fabric, and then I’ll select a wide variety of cottons, silks, linens, muslins, scrims, lace and trimmings. 

I source most of my fabrics from Whaleys Bradford Ltd., but I also try to use vintage and recycled fabrics whenever I can. Searching charity shops and markets often yields some interesting finds. 

I always use freehand machine stitching to attach my initial layers of fabric. I prefer to use a short stitch length which looks more like a sketchy line. When building up the design, I use my machine like a pencil to create line, form and areas of stitched texture. Madeira 40 rayon thread is my favourite. 

Mark making threads

Even though I print and paint on my fabrics, they remain surprisingly soft once I set the inks with an iron. Stitching is rarely a problem, but I’m always aware of how many layers of fabric will move freely beneath the darning foot. 

I use hand stitching to produce isolated marks. I like to use a variety of thread weights depending on the effect I want to create. I have a wide selection from which to choose, including cotton perlé, fine wools, stranded cotton and silk yarns. 

For hand stitching I prefer simple stitches, such as seeding, random cross stitch, running and couching. But I mostly stitch for the best effect rather than concentrating on specific stitches. 

London on the map

My series called A Sense of Place is inspired by places and my journeys. London on the Map incorporates iconic buildings and structures in London. The fabric map depicts central London with the River Thames running through. 

Working with my inkjet printer, I first treated the fabric with a BubbleJet 2000 solution. Once dry, I ironed it onto freezer paper and then passed it through the printer. 

I used a smooth cotton fabric and placed masking tape over the top edge of the fabric to help it feed smoothly. Keeping the fabrics neutral allowed the colour to come from the map and the applied stitching. The images are stitched with freehand machine embroidery. 

Across the Downs

Living in Sussex close to the South Downs, I find the rolling hills an ideal source of inspiration. Field poppies are often in abundance on the chalk downlands where they create stunning natural displays. I find the contrasting colours within the landscapes very alluring.

In Across the Downs, I layered and stitched natural fabrics before painting them with water-based inks. Normally, when I use my sketchbook to experiment with different colour combinations, the design can become quite abstract. But for this design, I chose to use a more representational colour palette.

The clouds were created by fusing pieces of horticultural fleece onto my white background. That created a resist effect when I painted on top. I sponged colour across the skyline to add a soft, atmospheric backdrop. Then I stitched into the piece to create the trees and introduce texture and depth. 

Royal Pavilion

Architecture has always interested me, and I’m constantly taking photos of doors, windows, carvings and crumbly textured surfaces. 

The Royal Pavilion in Brighton is especially fascinating because of its eclectic style. The juxtaposition of domes, scalloped arches and intricate stucco work makes it a wonderful resource for exploring patterns and form. 

In Royal Pavilion Brighton, I pieced, layered and stitched down calico, cotton silk noil and linen fabrics to create a balance of shapes, texture and tone. Additional surface texture was added using Xpandaprint. 

I applied paint and then stitched the outline of the pavilion with dark blue thread. For architectural designs, I tend to trace the image onto Stitch ‘n Tear stabiliser and then stitch from the reverse side with dark thread. 

Stitch club workshop

My Stitch Club workshop connects with my love of architecture. Members create a doorway scene that starts with layers of fabric. A paper collage is used to formulate the colour scheme, before they paint the background and stitch the design. Because they’ll be working with a variety of fabrics, interesting effects can be created.

They will also learn a unique reverse stitch transfer method that avoids the use of fabric markers. 

I’m eager for members to have fun, learn some new skills, and experiment with layering, painting and stitching techniques. I’m especially hopeful they’ll find the techniques useful in developing their own creative journeys. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Cultivating possibilities

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

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

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

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

Rachna Garodia, weaver and textile artist

Explorations on the loom

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

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

No rules weaving

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

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

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

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

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

Rachna Garodia, weaver and textile artist

Working process 

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

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

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

Perfecting my craft

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

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

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

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

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

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

From shuttle to needle

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

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

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

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

Rachna Garodia, weaver and textile artist

Creative collectives

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Julia Wright, Mixed media textile artist

An expression of place

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Julia Wright, Mixed media textile artist

Sustainability driven

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

Julia Wright, Mixed media textile artist

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

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

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

Using up leftovers

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

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

Inspired by materials

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

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

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

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

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

Julia Wright, Mixed media textile artist

Creative genes

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Inspired travel

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

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

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

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

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

Responding to nature

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

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

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

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

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. 

Cheryl is inspired by the natural world, colour, light and her emotional well-being. She spends hours crafting the collage materials for her art quilts and textile pieces. 

There’s no roadmap and no rules or fixed ideas about colour, subject or form. She works by instinct, letting go of expectations and following where the work leads. The best ideas arise from process, she says. 

For Cheryl, it’s the act of creating – the spontaneous dance of colour and line – that fuels her. Through this intuitive process, she channels love, loss and connection, transforming deeply personal moments into something universal.

Cheryl Rezendes: I am a fine artist; textiles just happen to be the canvas that I paint on. Machine and hand stitching are my pencil and pens. Thread is the ink and graphite.

I am inspired by the natural world. My large studio is situated in my garden. It’s filled with natural light giving me a view of the gardens and the woods. I’m surrounded by 40 acres of woodland.

I have lived here for almost 35 years and I’m still enthralled by all that I see and hear. It’s a place of refuge as well as a place of creativity. However, a trip to the city offers a vast array of visual inspiration as well. 

“There is always so much to see and absorb in whatever world I am walking through.”

Cheryl Rezendes, Artist

Being inspired

I am always inspired by the work of any artist, be it textile, painting or even pottery. It is all fodder for my creative self and making new work. 

Recently, my partner and I have started painting together. He is a potter and graphic designer. We work on large pieces of paper that measure approximately 150cm x 100cm (60″ x 40″). We paint and make marks very differently from each other. Just watching what he does, how he does it and how we bring both our skills together is incredibly inspiring.

I might help inspiration along by giving myself a challenge, such as to photograph all the lines that I see. It is amazing what can become a line if you are looking for them: a railing, the side of a building, a stacked pile of sticks and the edge of my dog’s kibble, to name but a few.

Creating my materials

I create my own collage materials. Usually I start by painting large pieces of white fabric using direct painting methods. But I might also stamp and stencil my own designs on to the fabric. 

I’ll also draw on the cloth and create monoprints. This is done without any intention of what they will look like or be used for. 

Sometimes I’ll digitally print one of my photographs onto cloth using my wide format Epsom printer. 

The pieces of fabric that I create in these ways will often coordinate or speak to each other – a visual conversation, if you will. I get inspired to use them together. These images are fused and/or stitched into the larger piece. As I work, I will be constantly hanging these pieces up on my design wall.  

“By viewing my work on a design wall, I’m auditioning them together, as well as getting inspired by the cloth and the work process itself.”

Cheryl Rezendes, Artist 

“My process for creating art is intuitive and based on discovery.”

Cheryl Rezendes, Artist 

Call & response

I don’t have a favourite colour palette that I return to again and again. Instead, I use colours that, for whatever reason, speak to me at any given time. 

I then follow the piece along: asking what is needed from a design standpoint and then responding. I teach these concepts in my Stitch Club workshop. 

Because of the way that I create my textiles, my work is visually very painterly. Sometimes the finished pieces are statements of beauty and elegance, and at other times they are filled with raw emotion.

“I often don’t know what the pieces are about until they are finished.” 

Cheryl Rezendes, Artist 

Finding meaning

The collection I made on care-giving was created that way.  It featured fifteen art quilts that were inspired by the eight years I spent as care-giver for my mother who had Alzheimer’s Disease and for my late husband who had Parkinson’s Disease and dementia. 

During those years I seemed to be drawn to dark colours, particularly brown, black and grey. Even as abstract pieces, the work seemed very emotional. They weren’t pretty. They were dark. 

At some point in the process of making those pieces I started to ask myself, “Okay. What are all these about, anyway?” 

I showed them to fellow artists to get their take. The resounding answer was that this collection of work was particularly sad and spoke to the anguish and grief I was feeling. Then the titles were born.

Coincidently, or not, when the show was completed my grieving process for the loss of those two people whom I had loved was completed as well.

Teaching intuitively

In my Stitch Club workshop, I share my process for creating intuitively. I highlight creating monoprints on cloth then used hand stitching as both a design and drawing tool. I introduce some collage work as well.  

My hope is that students come away with the skills to create monoprints and hand stitching but also that they understand that they can have a personal and unique visual voice. 

The inherent combination of spontaneity and discovery in the creation of one-of-a-kind prints lends itself well to this concept.

Cultivating curiosity

I encourage you to be open to the creating process, particularly self-discovery and the spontaneous.

Try to see what is happening in front of you rather than always seeing what you haven’t done. Often our intention doesn’t come through, but what we have actually created can be, and usually is, better! 

Imagine you are seeing the world for the first time. Drive or walk down your road and imagine what it would look like to someone who has never travelled that route before. You’ll find things you never saw.

Experiment with new supplies and different processes rather than just staying with what you’re already comfortable with. 

I may be formally trained but as a consequence, I have to work really hard at putting that training aside so I can be in discovery mode. Sometimes I’ll paint and draw with my non-dominant hand or cut collage pieces randomly. 

“I’ll do anything that helps me embrace discovery again.”

Cheryl Rezendes, Artist 

Nurturing creativity

I had the great fortune of growing up with parents who supported my creative spirit from an early age. 

They provided me with sketchbooks, paint and composition books. My mother had an interior design business, so I was exposed to beautiful fabrics, wallpaper and design books.

We lived just a two-hour train ride from New York City so we regularly visited the Museum of Modern Art and the Guggenheim. That early exposure to the work of contemporary artists was a spring board for me becoming a professional artist. 

Learning to see

In my late teens, I went to The School of the Museum of Fine Arts in Boston, MA where I studied painting and drawing for four years. As an artist, this was the most influential time in my life. 

At the time I attended, the school was a department of the Boston Museum of Fine Arts. This enabled me to have free access to the museum whenever I wanted and I was able to spend as much time with any given painting that I happened to be inspired by. I was also part of a course that allowed students to choose a painting from the museum’s archives that we wanted to study. 

The artwork would be delivered to a special classroom located on the top floor of the museum where I could make copies either by painting or drawing. That experience taught me an array of important skills that I would later use to observe and truly see the work of other artists and the world around me.

Supporting textiles

My mother exposed me to beautiful textiles as a child. She also taught me how to sew. 

After art school I made my living as a stitcher while doing my artwork in the evenings. I quickly became very skilled. I worked for a designer making elegant evening wear. I made costumes for a shop that supplied musical and theatrical events and I also created costumes for live action 3D animations. 

Later, after moving to western Massachusetts and while raising my boys, I made custom wedding gowns using antique textiles and lace. I continued to paint, draw and do collage work and was represented by a few galleries. 

At some point I became familiar with digital printing on cloth. I became intrigued with printing images of my paintings and collages on cloth. I couldn’t help but use those to collage as well. 

My work continued to grow and, in 2013, my book Fabric Surface Design (Workman Publishing) was published. It features over 80 techniques for putting imagery on fabric using textile paints. 

“Life has presented many challenges to me, but I’ve painted and drawn my way through them, even if I could only work in my sketchbook.”

Cheryl Rezendes, Artist

Her art is a visual journal of her life, capturing moments, processing memory and embracing imperfection. 

Ailish is influenced by the philosophy behind Kintsugi – the Japanese art of mending broken pottery with gold to highlight its history. And rather than aiming for a polished final piece, Ailish explores how the act of creation can enable transformation and ‘mending’ to take place.

Her multi-disciplinary work is deeply intimate. By using personal objects and memorabilia in her work, she ensures her portraits are not simply representations. They also offer a tangible connection to the people and stories they portray.

Ailish Henderson: I make sense of the world and my own experience through a juxtaposition of the written word and visual, artistic methods. 

I am finally coming to terms with what ‘artistic practice’ means for me. It’s not always a finished painting or an embroidery – it’s the story of me. Art is my life rather than about a place or a setting.

“I need to have a story or an experience in order to create.”

Ailish Henderson, Art textiles practitioner

Celebrating flaws

My work is heart driven. It’s made with the Japanese art of Kintsugi in mind. Kintsugi literally means ‘golden repair’. Instead of throwing away broken pottery, a precious metal like gold or silver is used to repair and enhance the broken pieces. 

Having been exposed to a pattern of traumatic events from childhood through to adulthood, I realised I needed to find a way of making sense of big questions and issues. This led to my study of the concept of ‘repair’ and investigating how we can potentially present our emotional repair in a textile conversation.

In Kintsugi, flaws are celebrated rather than trying to make a broken thing perfect. This idea has become an inspiration to me. I’m analysing what this practice can mean within the sphere of emotional repair. 

I also find that it’s soothing to see something come into existence via my hands. It’s not a final repair or cure but a ‘mending’ which keeps me going. 

Exploring these concepts either openly or discreetly through my teaching and writing practice is now my life’s work. This way, my audience can connect with this form of ‘mending’ too. 

“I’m inspired by a memory, a life experience or even a scar.”

Ailish Henderson, Art textiles practitioner

Inspired by life

My art is my visual diary. I am honest in my practice – what you see is what you get.  I’ve always had a reputation for wearing my heart on my sleeve. I tell my story with all of its emotion as well as the narrative line. 

Unhappy occasions provide as much artistic fuel as happy ones. In fact, sometimes more so. I’ve also used written pieces of prose to inspire imagery. I draw from these sources, creating a simple vignette, which gradually forms a retold narrative using textiles. 

I explore how those stories can become tactile.

The self-portrait Pistachio Smiles was inspired by a lone break in Paris. It’s stitched on a base of Irish linen (from my homeland) and created with many sentimental precious materials, such as my own clothing. The marriage of its inspiration and the hand embroidered fibres make it literally part of me. 

Alternatively, I might find an old photograph that triggers ideas. It intrigues me how the viewer simply sees the image for what it is, while I hold the unique knowledge or key behind the photograph. I love using that knowledge to extend the narrative into a stitched piece.

Drawing with a needle

Once I have my inspiration, my fabric becomes my canvas. The type of work I am doing influences my process, but for my self-portraits I sketch out the basics with pencil on the fabric.

I love working in a sketchbook. I like to make my own by stringing together odd leaves of paper or other memorabilia to work as paper. Each one is unique and my sketchbook might become the artwork itself. 

I might paint certain areas of the self-portrait. I’ll use watercolour or gouache paints as well as fabric dye. I am not precious about the type of paints I use as my self-portraits are not designed to be machine washed. 

I use a lot of drawing, collage, mixed media and paint. 

I appreciate the honesty hand stitching provides. My hand work doesn’t have to be intricate, and at times, it may be primitive. Yet I’m guiding its tension and I’m in control.

Although I adore my free machine embroidery foot, hand embroidery will always be my first love and I don’t do much machine stitch.

“My needle is my pen, whether I am stitching by hand or machine.” 

Ailish Henderson, Art textiles practitioner

Materials that matter

If I’m making a collage piece, I gather my inspiration and the materials I want to use. I have many large, lidded clear boxes filled with personal memorabilia that I treasure. By using these boxes, it’s easy to see what is inside.  

The memorabilia is usually directly connected with the imagery. For example, it may be a scan of a letter from a loved one, or some lace that they’ve given me. I use it all, even receipts from travel experiences or the odd chocolate packet. Thankfully, I have a large studio to house all of this ‘use one day’ fuel. 

I’ve always used materials which mattered. I find it hard to function creatively with synthetic fabrics. I love quality, so I’m naturally drawn to cotton, silk and wool. This is easily done in a sustainable way. I collect vintage items that no one else wants.

All the bits I want to use are collected, chopped and stitched on the fabric to form the portrait. However, as I work in a variety of mediums, this is just one way I develop my pieces.

Inspiring Stitch Club

Although I’ve long been known for my stitched collage portraits, creating my Stitch Club workshop, about capturing the essence of a person through stitch, was the start of a shift in direction. I’ve begun to investigate my own ancestry and think about where I fit in this life. 

These are big questions when we are talking about an artistic context. I’ve started to present my own background in greater depth and explore how it could be translated to others. 

I examine two lines of thought in my Stitch Club project. 

One is about looking at a family member whom we might not know well. For example, my dad’s family died before I was born. When I look at my dad’s family photographs, although I know them and feel connected with them, it’s not an emotional connection. This sparked my interest. How can we depict someone we do not know? 

Then, I looked at my mother’s mother – I used to stick to her like glue! She died recently, aged 99, so her loss feels very direct. Although in this instance I can create with knowledge, I wanted to challenge myself to think around this. How could I create art by looking at her qualities and the things she owned rather than simply representing her image?

Of course, in the workshop Stitch Club members will dive into their own personal adaptations. Their feedback will add to my own ongoing narrative projects. 

“We all can learn and be nourished by each other.”  

Ailish Henderson, Art textiles practitioner

Early inspiration

I was born in Northern Ireland at the height of the Northern Ireland Conflict (the Troubles). We moved back to the UK when I was quite young, so my family could offer full-time support to my mother’s parents. I was home-schooled until I reached sixteen and my focus shifted to the arts. 

Art has always been an integral part of my being. I didn’t aspire to become an artist. I just was. There was never that moment some have experienced when they feel they have gone from being an amateur crafter to being an artist.

I was always encouraged to be creative as a child. My Scottish grandmother on my father’s side was a painter, and on my mother’s side there were clear links to dressmaking and textiles.

My mother made her own clothes with Liberty print fabric which has since become the brainchild behind my digitally printed fabric collection called You Gave Me Liberty. 

She was forever trying to get a needle in my hand but I was a determined character and avidly rebelled. In fact, I didn’t pick up a needle until I went to college to study fine art.

In my early years, I was definitely inclined toward fine art. Every trip or holiday was filled with sketching time. Over the years, I accumulated a lot of sketchbooks and paintings, which I honestly thought would simply be stored away for sentimental value.

However, I always felt there was something missing. One day a textiles tutor happened to be covering my fine art class. From that moment I was hooked.

Discovering textiles

I had always thought of textiles as a patience-driven craft. Yet my tutor Julia Triston’s subtle vision sparked something inside of me. She showed me techniques that included fabric but were less taxing on the embroidery side. She revealed what textiles could be, and her patience and insight are something for which I will be ever thankful.

When I discovered textiles in college, I suddenly looked at fine art with new eyes. How could I translate my sketchbook and painting skills into a tactile form? So my textile methods reflect that ‘from-sketch-to-stitch’ concept.

My early practice revolved around utilising techniques with as little stitch precision as possible. I worked intuitively and creatively using my fine art brain. I have to confess I even used a glue gun at times when I didn’t know how to stitch a certain way. As I became more proficient, my work naturally changed.

Developing skills

When I left college after first studying fine art and then textiles, I felt lost. I remember panicking. Where would I go from here?

I ended up doing my City & Guilds Level 3 with Julia Triston and Tracy Franklin at their Stitchbusiness classes in Durham, which was a brilliant learning curve. I learned many textile and art-related skills, some of which I now teach.

After this training, I felt stronger and more focused. I knew deep within myself that textile art was something I had to pursue. I just had to make it work.

I began getting myself involved in teaching and lecturing to groups, such as branches of The Embroiderers’ Guild. The Knit and Stitch Show also took me on to provide classes, which opened up my work vision further.

I decided I wanted to continue learning and feeding myself with current and contemporary practices to open up my own practice, so I began studying for a BA in Textiles. 

Although I entered university level education later than most, my reputation earned through my own practice and teaching worked in tandem with my course. Teaching and other ways of working can potentially contribute to your creative vision.

“If you are an aspiring textile artist, I’d encourage you to think outside of the normal ‘job’ options.” 

Ailish Henderson, Art textiles practitioner

Follow your heart

During my degree studies, I was pushed to take more risks in my artistic practice. However, by the time I began my degree, I already knew who I was as an artist – so I found this mentally taxing. 

The work I loved most from my time studying is my stitched collage portrait narrative work. This work got the fewest marks, yet funnily enough it has been my most successful work outside of my degree.

“Be open to change and renewal, but always enjoy what you do – creating should never be a trial.”  

Ailish Henderson, Art textiles practitioner

Pass it on

I’d encourage you to always make with your heart. Art without heart lacks magic. Let the inspiration and the creation light you up. If it doesn’t, leave it.

Use materials you have a connection with. For example, memorabilia, letters, photos and passed down textile materials such as lace, old tablecloths or suchlike.

Don’t be afraid to use what’s precious. These treasured things will only die with you, so use it now and give it a new life. You never know, that cherished napkin you kept so carefully in a drawer may end up on a gallery wall someday.  

Coming home to myself

For many years, there was a period when I was teaching, writing and, I have to admit it, working off the back of my previous artworks, without feeling any need to make more. I hated this time and I felt as if I’d lost my way. 

I came to realise that my art is more than another stitched collage portrait, it is in everything I do. 

I am never without a pen or pencil in my hand. I write poems or I sketch odd little things just to make me happy. I write articles about art and I review other people’s art. In other words, I began to realise that I am an artist, I had just missed the point of what the term could be.

The last few years have been filled with exhibitions, losing my cherished grandmother, and all the noise that comes from writing and publishing a book. Currently I am working on some new teaching projects, as well as developing ideas for a second book. 

Importantly, I am taking time to contemplate on what my narrative future might be.

So, what happens when a scientist becomes a textile artist who chooses a printing technique offering zero reliability? As you’ll see below, it’s an incredible mashup of mark-making, colour and stitch.

Leah Higgins worked as a scientist in the chemical and textile industry, so she understood the possibilities of dyes. But her choice to use her signature ‘breakdown’ printing process forced her to literally lose control. 

You can read details about the technique below. But, in summary, the artist first lays down a resist, then the dyes take over from there.

At first, it wasn’t easy for Leah to embrace the serendipity of the process. But now she wouldn’t work in any other fashion. 

Industrial inspiration

To date, my sources of inspiration have mostly been grounded in the industrial heritage and social history of the Manchester area in the northwest of England. It’s where I live, and my work often references industries and buildings that have a personal or family connection. 

For example, I worked as a scientist in the chemical and textile industry and was based in a converted spinning mill for many years. Ruins 9 Cottonopolis Revisited is one of several pieces that reference the cotton mills littered across Manchester. 

I also create art based on my emotions and their connection to place and time. In my Cadence series, I took shelter from the stress of the pandemic by immersing myself in the process of making. I worked with my favourite colours and techniques. 

In Cadence 7, I tried to evoke the sense of calm and joy that comes from a repeated activity such as printing and stitching. More recently, I’ve started work on a new series inspired by the colours of the North Ayrshire coast and the emotions that course through me while standing on the shoreline.

Science foundations

I don’t remember learning to sew or knit, but my mother and grandmother believed a woman should always have a practical something ‘on the go’. But at age 14, when my school asked me to choose science or art, I chose science. 

For many decades, the ‘creative’ me was focused on making and repairing clothes and things for the house. And as I was never fully happy following other people’s patterns, I taught myself to create my own clothing patterns. I took pride in getting things perfect, and that attention to detail is now evident in my textile art. I don’t do wonky seams or leave threads hanging!

“Earning a chemistry degree and PhD in textile science, followed by a career in the textile industry has had a great influence on my work.” 

Leah Higgins, Textile artist

Understanding the properties of different textiles and the chemistry of dyeing has helped me transfer my ideas onto fabric. 

Those experiences also underpinned my teaching practice and helped me write books about colour and screen printing. It has also driven my interest in our industrial heritage.

Important mentors

I started making patchwork bed quilts and wall hangings in the 90s, usually giving them as gifts. Although I created my own designs based on traditional patchwork patterns, I soon wanted to design pieces from scratch. 

I took City and Guilds courses in Patchwork and Quilting, including an online diploma with Linda Kemshall. I learnt lots of techniques, but I didn’t like working into sketchbooks and wasn’t yet ready to call myself an artist.

That transition happened over a five-year period during which I took a series of workshops with Leslie Morgan and Claire Benn. Those amazing women changed my life. They taught me so much in terms of techniques, including introducing me to breakdown printing. But they also gave me the tools I needed to develop my own creative practice to become an artist.

“I wanted to learn how to transfer a source of inspiration into a finished quilt.”

Leah Higgins, Textile artist

Colours & marks

My initial planning takes place in my head. I like working in series, so it’s important that the ideas I choose have enough depth to sustain multiple pieces, often created over several years.

I don’t work into a sketchbook as such but will sometimes jot down ideas in a journal. I like to read around my subject, to visit relevant places and collect imagery I might incorporate into my work. 

Once I’m ready, I always start by playing with colours and marks. I might try to match colours to my source inspiration, or I might choose colours that ‘feel right’. 

I work directly onto fabric using breakdown printing and other screen printing techniques. I also sometimes use dyeing techniques to create a cohesive collection of fabrics that are unified by colour and dense mark making. 

“I don’t often get it right the first time. There will be fabrics I discard and fabrics that need additional work.”

Leah Higgins, Textile artist

Eventually I’m ready to construct my quilts. I cut my fabrics into simple strips or rectangles and often use value change to arrange them in an interesting way.

Once stitched together, I layer my work and add lots of straight-line machine stitching, as this seems to help the individual pieces of fabric blend together. In fact, viewers are often unaware such a large work contains several hundred pieces of fabric.

Once quilted, I often use appliqué or print to add elements that reference specific aspects of the inspiration source.

Breakdown printing

One of my favourite printing techniques is breakdown printing. It’s a form of screen printing in which I apply thickened dyes directly to the back of a screen, then let the screen dry completely. This dried dye acts as a resist when I print my screen. As I pull the screens, using either print paste or more thickened dye, the dried dye starts to wet out and transfers colour and marks to the fabric.

Each time I pull the screen more of the dried dye breaks down a bit, resulting in unique marks and patterns for every print.

“I love the serendipity of breakdown printing and the fact that I’m not 100 percent in control.”

Leah Higgins, Textile artist

There’s something wonderful about starting with a piece of white fabric and adding colour and marks. 

I’m excited to be hosting a workshop for the Stitch Club in which members will learn my breakdown printing technique. My aim is to make screen printing accessible to those who have never printed or used dyes before. The technique is very forgiving, so beginners won’t have to worry if their prints don’t line up or the fabric gets messy. 

Poplin love

Most of my art quilts were made using a lovely cotton poplin. Poplin has a very fine, dense weave and a smooth surface which takes colour beautifully, giving the printed colours a brightness that you wouldn’t get with plain cotton. 

That said, I used a linen/cotton blend for my Artefact series. I wanted to combine printed marks with a more textured fabric. I buy all my fabric from Whaleys of Bradford as I have better control of colour if I use fabric from the same supplier. 

“Poplin gives the printed colours a brightness that you wouldn’t get with plain cotton.”

Leah Higgins, Textile artist

The mighty Bernina

I bought my first Bernina sewing machine in 2007. It was a Bernina 440 that I had used in a workshop. Then a couple years ago, I replaced the 440 with its equivalent, the Bernina 435. 

The Bernina is a heavy machine and gives a very crisp straight line which is important to me as all my quilts are finished with dense straight line machine quilting. And they’re both true workhorses. My first machine did over 14 million stitches before becoming my backup machine!

Must-have tools

Humble masking tape is a must-have when I’m printing. But I also use it on my quilts as a guide for straight-line stitching when I don’t have a seam to which I can stitch parallel lines. 

The walking foot on my sewing machine is also essential. It not only helps to smooth quilting but also helps when I’m machine stitching long seams. I’ll also use it on rare occasions when I want to stitch curves, even quite tight ones. I get better control over stitch length than I would if I used free-machine quilting.

Also, I always have a notebook and pen next to my sewing machine. I can jot down the ideas that often come to me when I’m seated at my machine.

“My work is art and should not be excluded from exhibitions because of the media I choose to use.”

Leah Higgins, Textile artist

Textile art bias

As an artist, I’m constantly frustrated by the association between textile and craft within the ‘white-walled gallery’ fine art community. Yes, I take pride in mastering my craft. But my work goes beyond craft. 

On a more personal level, my biggest challenge is time! My creative process is time consuming, and it can be challenging to balance art with my teaching practice and family life. I’m reducing my teaching practice as part of my move to Scotland, which will hopefully free up more time to create!

The joy of writing

To date, I’ve written three books, including one dedicated to the breakdown printing process.

When I worked in a technical role in a manufacturing company, I often had to write detailed technical instructions for colleagues or customers with limited knowledge of the subject. So in 2018, when I changed career and started teaching screen printing and other surface design techniques, it was both natural and enjoyable to write detailed notes for my students.

A good friend who had self published her own books suggested I give it a go, so I did. And I loved it! Each of my books was written during quiet teaching periods, so I could set my studio up for photography and really focus. I completed each book in three to four months.

“I see my books very much as an extension of my teaching practice rather than my art practice.”

Leah Higgins, Textile artist

A big move

Looking toward the future, I’m interested in seeing how my ideas and sources of inspiration change as I move from an industrial city to a small town on the coast. My links with industry will fall away. 

I’m already working on a new series using colours associated with the coast. I wonder if I’ll be inspired by local history, too?

With more time, I’m hoping to explore different printing processes and seeing how I might incorporate printed paper into my work.