Just a few years ago Cassandra Dias was a mum of two young children, dabbling in a variety of crafts she sold from her Etsy shop. But as she tired of crochet and silk screen printing, she noticed other women on Instagram who combined their love of motherhood with their passion for embroidery – an art that could be put down and picked up at ease – and realised this could be her new calling.

A gifted bag of DMC threads and the quieter times in 2020 gave Cassandra the opportunity to learn and experiment with her stitches. Adopting her love of impressionist painting, and using her own photos of the vineyards, hills, seascapes and rivers of her native southern California, Cassandra found plenty of inspiration for her chosen subject of landscape embroidery. 

As she worked on her skills, she posted regularly on Instagram, growing an impressive following. It wasn’t long before she received requests to buy her artworks and to take commissions. 

Today, Cassandra delights in not only being a stay-at-home mum for her children, but in her discovery of the freedom of stitch and the joy of creating exquisite miniature landscape embroideries.

Dabbling with art forms

Cassandra Dias: I used to love colouring, drawing and painting as a child, and remember being  encouraged to enjoy art. I took art classes throughout junior high and high school, studying acrylic and oil painting, sculpture and ceramics. My peers even voted me best artist for the high school yearbook. 

In college I decided to take a break from art in order to find a more traditional career, but none of the classes I took really held my interest. So, after graduating, I came back to art and started creating again. I taught myself crochet and silk screen printing, and opened an Etsy shop where I sold my handmade items. 

With every art form I’ve tried, with the exception of formal classes at school, I’ve taught myself after researching the basics. I enjoy challenging myself to see if I can learn to make things with my own hands.

Teaching myself a new skill is something that is really fulfilling for me, and that’s probably why I’ve gone in so many different creative directions during my life.

Discovering embroidery

I started embroidery in January 2020 because I wanted to add another art form to the list of things I’ve tried. 

While browsing Instagram, I saw pretty floral designs with lots of neat satin stitch leaves and woven wheel blooms. I guess I was initially attracted to the visual appeal of these pieces. But when I actually went to visit the artists’ pages, I found that a lot of them were moms, just like me.

It was nice to see them in their various stages of motherhood with photos of them simply being mamas to their kids – but also to see posts devoted to their love of embroidery. I felt a sense of connection to these women who had made time for themselves to have a creative outlet.

At the time, a couple of women I followed on Instagram – Jacinthe @littlehouse_happyfamily and Merrill Melideo @merzydotes – were posting some of their embroidered creations, and I thought this pastime might be something I’d enjoy too. I had kind of slowed down with my crochet work because the basic stitches I was using had started to bore me, and I’d lost interest in silk screen printing and the other crafting I was doing to try to fill up my Etsy shop. I had an old bag of DMC floss I’d never used, so I decided to pull it out and give embroidery a try in the hope of finding a new passion.

I also liked the fact that embroidery seemed like a low maintenance hobby, one that could easily be put down and picked back up again when time allowed. Being a stay-at-home mom, with lots of other things I needed to manage throughout my day, the fact that I could pick up right where I left off was really appealing and convenient – I didn’t have to worry about things like my medium drying out on me, as paint or clay would do.

I picked it up pretty quickly after researching the basic stitches. During the pandemic lockdown, I was able to get lots of practice. I enjoyed doing most of my stitching on the couch, since I didn’t have a designated embroidery area at the time.

Little did I know just how passionate an embroiderer I would become!

From hobby to enterprise

To develop my hobby as a business, I started posting my work consistently on Instagram, using popular embroidery hashtags so that more people would be able to stumble across my photos. This helped me to gain the interest of new followers. 

Once I had made a bunch of pieces, I started selling them every week on Instagram – ‘first-to-comment-wins’ style. That, to my great relief, worked really well for me, and my following increased pretty organically from there. With more people showing a genuine interest in my work and asking if I led any classes or sold patterns, I started filming more tutorials, which I posted on my social media pages. I also started creating patterns, which I sold in my online Etsy store.

Favourite scenes

I enjoy embroidering different types of landscapes for completely different reasons, so it’s tough to decide which are my favourite scenes. Some of my favourite things are adding small flower details and creating french knot trees for my pastoral and rural pieces.

If I had to choose one, I’d probably say I like creating seascapes the best, because I love blending all the colours that make up the waves – adding reflections and incorporating rocks and things to create a rough contrast to the smooth flow of the water.

Process of creating

When I’m working from a reference photo, I just eyeball the picture and freehand draw a rough sketch of it directly onto my fabric before I start stitching. If I’m creating a design from my own imagination, I still sketch it onto my fabric, but sometimes it can take a couple tries before I get it the way I want. Because of this, I use a water soluble marker just in case I need to erase my lines and start over.

I use unprimed cotton duck canvas because I’ve found that it’s sturdy enough to withstand how taut I like to have it in my working hoop. It’s also pretty durable when it comes to the amount of layers of stitching I incorporate in my pieces. 

I mainly use DMC six-strand cotton embroidery floss, with the exception of some random brands of old floss I have in the bag of threads that was gifted to me. And since I normally work on such a small scale (my completed embroideries are mounted on nine centimetre/three-inch hoops), the six-strand embroidery floss is perfect as I can split up the thread and work with fewer strands when I need to. All of the materials I use are readily available at my local craft store.

Framing small hoop embroideries

When I complete a piece, I hang it directly on the wall with a clear push pin. If I decide to keep an artwork for my own personal collection at home, I like to display it in a shadow box. I can either prop up the box on a level surface or hang it on the wall, and the glass barrier helps protect the embroidery from dust and other environmental elements. Whichever method I use to display my work, I always make sure to keep it away from moisture and out of direct sunlight.

Moving forward

Luckily, I haven’t had too many challenges so far. Sure, there is the occasional pause I need to take to reflect on the direction I want to go in with a piece. I’ve found that whenever I come upon something that stumps me, I just need to keep moving forward instead of backwards. I might add some more stitches instead of taking them out and trying again, and things will usually work out the way I want them to in the end.

In the future, I want to create my thread paintings on a larger scale and take on more commissions. I’m also interested in exhibiting my work. If time allows, I may try to create more patterns and also look into offering workshops through my website. I’ve been thinking about creating prints of my work as well, so I definitely have lots of ideas to progress my business and make my art more accessible to others. 

I want to make sure I continue to cultivate my love for embroidery, so it will always be about finding the right balance between checking goals off my list and enjoying the actual process of stitching.

Practise and share

The best advice I can give someone who is interested in starting embroidery is to make it a priority to set aside time for yourself to practise. When I first started researching stitches, I came across an article on The Spruce Crafts that was really helpful. It gave step-by-step instructions and listed the materials I would need. 

Try all the stitches that look interesting to you, and figure out which ones you really enjoy making. From there you can experiment with different types of subject matter and apply those stitches to it. Greater confidence and improvement in your technique will come with practice. 

If you decide you want to turn your embroidery into a business, it’s important to have a consistent social media presence, so posting regularly on your social pages will help draw in people who are interested in your work and, in turn, help develop connections with potential clients.

Key takeaways

If you’ve found Cassandra’s journey and tips encouraging, remember these tips for your own practice:

• When starting out with embroidery, begin by trying out some basic stitches. Find those you like and practise until you’re confident with them.

• If, like Cassandra, you enjoy reproducing landscapes, take photos on walks or visits and work from these. You can sketch out the shapes onto fabric with a water erasable pen.

• When you’re working on a piece and are unsure of your direction, keep stitching rather than unpicking. You can cover up stitches with new ones, building layers for texture and direction.

• When you’re ready to share your work, set up an Instagram account and a website. Use popular relevant hashtags to attract new followers.

• Share your joy and sell your work too. Cassandra used competitions, filmed tutorials and designs of her own patterns that people could purchase.

Cassandra Dias was born and raised in Santa Barbara, and now lives in Camarillo, California. She has been embroidering since 2020 and sells her work on her website and her patterns on her Etsy pattern account.

Her work has been featured on websites including DMC, This is Colossal, My Modern Met and School of Stitched Textiles, and she has been featured in print in Love Embroidery Magazine.

Artist website: cassandramdias.com

Facebook: facebook.com/cassiemdias

Instagram: @cassiemdias

Etsy: etsy.com/shop/CDiasEmbroideryArt

Etsy: etsy.com/shop/OhLeanderShop

Has Cassandra’s landscape embroidery made an impression on you? If so, take a look at our interview with five different artists who depict landscapes in their work. We’ve also highlighted some of the best books on different embroidery stitches to start you on your journey.

What impressed you about Cassandra’s work and story? Let us know in the comments below.

One thing you can say about Clara Nartey is that she’s persistent. The word ‘can’t’ simply doesn’t exist in her artistic vocabulary. Whether tackling a new stitching technique, figuring out how to work with a digital app, or navigating social media, Clara just won’t quit. She’s even set up year-long personal challenges to achieve her goals.

Largely self-taught, Clara was determined to learn how to draw with a needle and thread as she would a pen or pencil. She also committed to infusing her African heritage into everything she made. After tireless years of practice and the help of key mentors, Clara’s unique approach to free motion stitch is stunning. And the way she designs her own fabrics is icing on the cake.

In addition to making art, Clara also dedicates time to inspiring and motivating other artists. Clara’s persistence was fueled by her belief in herself as an artist, even in the wake of her mistakes and failures. Clara knew she had to be her own cheerleader, and she now helps other artists build their confidence to create and share their work.

Clara’s story is a great reminder of how persistence can pay off in big ways.

Sewing room dangers

Clara Nartey: The first textile art I remember creating was a crocheted table top piece. My mom taught me to crochet, and I enjoyed it very much. I eventually crocheted better than she did, including creating 3D animals.

I also grew up watching my mom machine embroider. She lovingly embellished our clothing which made me feel special anytime I wore one of those embroidered outfits. But she was scared to let me go near her embroidery sewing machine, let alone use it.

She also worried I’d hurt myself with her very heavy metal tailor’s scissors. One day they were hidden under a pile of fabrics. When she went to gather those fabrics, the scissors fell off the worktable and landed point-side down, piercing her foot. She had to use crutches for months after that.

So I’m guessing she only taught me how to crochet to avoid using machines or dangerous tools.

Learning trajectory

I’m largely self taught, but I’ve also had people guide me along the way. Of course, my mom’s refusal to teach me how to machine embroider only made me gravitate to it even more. So, later in life when a family friend asked if I could monogram something, I bought my first embroidery machine and taught myself how to use it.

I also read lots of books on textile art, watched videos, and then took a year-long online master class with Elizabeth Barton. That’s when I had my first lessons in art and design. I also took a live five day workshop with Elizabeth, and subsequently, she taught me how to dye fabric. I then took a textile design course with Bonnie Christine and her year-long group membership programme. And I took a course in colour studies at the Gail Harker School of Creative Studies.

​​Although I don’t have a formal art education, I seek to create art with the same basic art foundations of drawing and sketching, and a stitched line is my means to that end.

When I started my adventures in textile art, I tried a lot of techniques, including traditional quilting, appliqué, hand dyeing fabrics and free motion stitching. One of my earlier works, Whirlwind Thoughts, demonstrates a mashup of techniques with its different values of threads on the face, cut up fabrics for the clothes, and hand dyed and painted fabrics in the background.

But as I continued to experiment, I always seemed to come back to the drawn line. I think my years of watching how an embroidery machine can create images from stitches inspired my ability to see the mark making possibilities of stitched thread. So, I decided to start using machine stitching the same way one draws with pen and ink. The simplicity of a stitched line is appealing, and the ability to use it to create art is fascinating to me.

I’m often asked how I would describe my textile art. Quilting? Appliqué? The fact is there’s no single label I could use. My art is a composite of different art techniques I’ve learned along the way, including embroidery, quilting, textile design and digital printing.

Stories to tell

Each of my works usually starts with an idea or theme I want to express. I’ll write down my initial thoughts and things I want to say through the work and then use that information as my guard rails. Invariably, I’m not able to fully express a thought in just a single piece, so I often end up working in a series to express different aspects of my original thought.

My subjects are sometimes family and friends, and some are people I don’t know. Overall, I try to portray an idea more than an exact likeness of a person.

For example, in Bubbly, I wanted to depict the joys of everyday life. The pandemic was raging at the time, so I wanted to create a work that countered the gloominess and death. I wanted to create something happy, so I chose a model who was laughing.

In Charleena, I sought to tell the story of how Blacks have encountered untimely deaths during interactions with the police. The subject is Charleena Lyles, a young, pregnant woman with mental health issues. She was fatally shot in her home during a police altercation in Seattle, Washington (US).

African inspiration

I was born and raised in Ghana, before moving to the United States where I’ve lived almost as long as I lived in Ghana. Machine embroidery is very much a part of Ghanaian fashion. Clothes are elaborately designed with embroidery, especially around the neckline which we call ‘joromi’.

The first time one of my Ghanaian friends saw my thread work, they exclaimed ‘you are using joromi to draw!’.

Fabrics are also used for storytelling in Ghanaian tradition. We use fabrics to memorialise life events like birth, marriage or death. Those memorial fabrics usually have symbols or motifs that have significance or tell a story, which is why I use fabrics and threads to both draw and narrate stories. 

I use the ideas of traditional Ghanaian block printing techniques, especially when incorporating Adinkra symbols into my work. Adinkra is a writing system that consists of pictorial symbolism created by the Ashanti craftsmen of Ghana. The symbols can represent various ideas related to life’s lessons.

Representing kente cloth in my work is also important to me. The figure’s head wrap in Gele: The Skyscraper is a good example. Kente is a woven and then strip pieced cloth. Since kente is strip pieced, I often incorporate squares, rectangles and other blocks of colour to reference the look of the kente cloth in both subtle and overt ways.

Incorporating images of kente is my way of holding onto the edges of the national fabric of the country of my birth.

Going digital

I use photographs as references for my subjects, and then I create a line sketch from that image. I’ve recently begun to rely on my iPad as a sketching tool instead of a sketchbook. I use the Procreate application, which allows me to work on all the colours and shading on my iPad.

I initially had to get used to the Apple pencil’s pressure sensitivity when drawing on the iPad. It’s very different from using a regular pen or pencil on paper. I used to hold the Apple pencil too hard, but over time, I’ve learned to loosen my grip.

Now that I have better control of the Apple pencil, I have access to an unlimited palette of colours compared to traditional paints or coloured pencils. I also find I experiment more and try different options on the iPad than I would in a traditional sketchbook.

​​Once I’m pleased with my portrait sketch, I shade the skin tones, always starting with the face. I then design all the fabrics using shapes, colours and symbols that match the theme or story I want to tell. I then design the colours and patterns for the other fabrics that will be featured in the work, including the subject’s clothing. 

Again, incorporating African Adinkra symbols is important for me. For example, in Emerald and Sapphire, I drew a symbol of Siamese crocodiles to use for the background fabric in both pieces. They are part of a series called Gem Series, and the series’ theme is ‘although we’re different, there’s more that unites us than divides us’. 

The crocodile symbol depicts how absurd it is for the Siamese crocodiles to fight when, although they’re different, they’re still joined in the belly and, hence, they’ll have to agree with each other to be nourished.

When the final composition is in place on my iPad, I send all the digital files to Spoonflower, an on-demand fabric print company in the United States. I have them print the full composition on one piece of cloth, like a large fabric poster. And then additional yardage is printed with my different fabric designs.

Let the stitching begin

I use the fully printed piece as the base of my design, and then I appliqué the various cut pieces for body parts, hair and clothing onto the fully printed piece. While that base layer informs the overall design, I give myself permission to make changes as I see fit throughout the entire creative process. As I appliqué the pieces together, I also use different threads and embroidery stitches that often result in changes from the original design.

Once the appliqué and stitching are complete, I finish the work by facing all of the edges. I attach the facing from the front and then turn it to the back and secure it with hand stitching.

For the embroidery and quilting part of the process, I use a Juki 2010q sewing and quilting machine and a Handi Quilter Moxie longarm quilting machine. I assemble different colours of embroidery threads to match my original shaded sketch. This is never 100 per cent accurate, though, since thread manufacturers don’t make colours to match my paintings, and I don’t consider what threads are available when sketching – so I’m always improvising.

I typically start with my subject’s face, then move to the hair and the clothing. The background is finished last. For very large pieces, I’ll usually build the figure separately, and then appliqué the full figure to the background.

I like polyester threads. They’re strong enough to stand up to my high-speed machine stitching. However, if I need a specific thread colour to complete a project, I’m open to using other threads.

I don’t plan stitches ahead of time. I let the work tell me where they need to go.

Not knowing how the work will ultimately turn out is the really fun part for me. It’s exciting because the final result is always a surprise. It’s never exactly as I imagined, and that’s just fine.

Free motion curve

When I began learning how to draw, I started a sketchbook project. I carried the sketchbook with me everywhere and committed to drawing something every day. I especially enjoyed pen and ink drawing, but it was a challenge knowing I couldn’t erase any marks.

As I gained confidence with pen and ink, I decided to do the same type of drawing on fabric. I also figured free motion machine stitching would be as unforgiving as pen and ink. So, I embarked on a self-imposed 52 week challenge in which I had to recreate every pen sketch I drew on paper using my sewing machine. That challenge helped me learn the foundational stitch vocabulary I still use today.

I broke a lot of needles while I was learning! I easily went through a packet or more of needles a day. But I wasn’t deterred.

I wanted to find a way to both outline and create shading with my sewing machine. I also tried different stabilisers before I found one that worked. I had initially used leftover stabilisers from using my first embroidery machine, but they didn’t always work for free motion embroidery.

My top tip for those wanting to tackle free motion embroidery is to step away from the sewing machine and practise continuous line drawing on paper. Don’t lift the pen up until your drawing is finished. Remember your drawings don’t need to be full works of art. Simple curves, lines and shapes are enough. Eventually, the more comfortable you become drawing on paper, the easier it will be to direct the fabric on your sewing machine. 

Also, think about driving a car while using your sewing machine. Keep your hands on the wheel (fabric), your feet on the pedal, and your eye on the road ahead (your destination, not your current needle position). Quilting gloves and a teflon mat will help you move the fabric around more easily.

Lastly, be sure to change your needles after every six hours of stitching. The fast continuous machine stitching dulls the needles and will cause unnecessary troubles like broken needles or bad stitching.

Sharing the love

What I enjoy most about teaching is sharing with my students. I enjoy seeing how something I’ve learned can open a door for someone else in their own creative journey. It’s both my contribution and another way to create beauty in the world through others. My words and instruction become works of art through the hands of those whom I teach.

I also want my students to believe in themselves. No matter how much they learn, how many tools they acquire or how fancy their studio is, if my students don’t believe they have what it takes, none of that will do any good.

I give lectures on unleashing one’s creativity and how to get out of a creative slump. I also teach art marketing, covering topics like branding, email newsletters, social media and getting into art exhibitions.

Personally, I’ve had a complex relationship with social media. I initially resisted it, and I’m a late adopter. I’m an introvert at heart, and I didn’t feel comfortable sharing everything online. But the more I learned about making it in the art world, the more I realised I couldn’t avoid it. I create all my own content, mainly using my iPhone. For video editing, I use the InShot app, and for photo editing, I use Adobe Photoshop.

I use social media to promote my work – I share what I’m doing in my art practice, but I leave it up to the audience to decide whether or not my content is interesting. Algorithms are hard to figure out. Sometimes I’d post something I thought was interesting, but it only reached a fraction of followers. So, I’ve decided to not let individual post metrics bother me anymore. I just share as events happen in my art practice to keep my followers up to date, and I think it’s working.

Key takeaways

Clara Nartey’s work demonstrates the need to allow ourselves to make mistakes and not let them cripple us. Here are some suggestions for keeping yourself motivated:

• Connect to your culture. Explore the stitch or other artistic traditions found in your heritage and try to incorporate them into your textile art.

• Create challenges for yourself to explore specific techniques. Clara spent 52 weeks turning daily sketches into thread art. You don’t have to commit to that long a timeframe, but do try to push yourself to steadily explore the possibilities over time.

• Clara uses a fabric digital printing service to print her drawings on fabric and then stitches and appliqués on top of the printed fabric. How might you do the same? You could also try using treated fabrics that can be put through your home printer.

• Believing in herself as an artist helps Clara keep going in the wake of mistakes and failures. Always remind yourself you have something important to say in your textile art, and be kind to yourself when critiquing your work. Focus on the positives more than the negatives.

Clara Nartey is based in New Haven County, Connecticut, USA. She exhibits her work extensively in the US, and in 2023 the Yale University School of Management acquired six of her works for its permanent art collection. Clara is also a member of Studio Art Quilt Associates and an elected member of Connecticut Women Artists.

Artist website: claranartey.com

Instagram: @ClaraNartey

Facebook: facebook.com/ClaraNarteyArt

Check out Marcellina Akpojotor who also explores her African heritage through her textile art. She juxtaposes recycled materials on painted surfaces in astonishing ways.

Clara creates personal challenges to help develop her design skills. Have you ever set yourself a learning goal to improve your stitching or textile art-making? Tell us more in the comments below.

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

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

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

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

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

Challenging history

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

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

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

Unearthing unicorns

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

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

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

Storytelling through symbolism

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

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

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

A symphony of colour

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

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

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

The allure of threads

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

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

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

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

Drama in textiles

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

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

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

Key takeaways

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

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

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

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

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

Artist website: simoneelizabethsaunders.com

Instagram: @simoneelizabethsaunders

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

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

The proverb ‘one person’s trash is another person’s treasure’ reigns supreme with these five artists. Each of them rescues neglected and tossed away items to help tell significant truths and stories in their textile art. These artistic hunters and gatherers keep a watchful eye out for overlooked gems and then breathe new life into their found treasures in unexpected ways.

Certainly, there’s a pragmatic satisfaction found in helping the environment by reducing items headed for landfill. But these artists also tap into the joy of imagining the prior lives of their found riches and seamlessly blending the old with the new. Every recycled object bears its own bumps, bruises or sparkle that can’t be purchased or recreated. And that’s where the creative magic of working with secondhand materials lies.

Paul Yore’s works incorporate recycled objects as metaphors addressing the social challenges of queer culture. Louise Baldwin uses salvaged fabrics and construction materials to explore her feelings toward building a new home. Zipporah Camille Thompson celebrates her paternal grandmother through an installation featuring beloved colours and a special rice from the American South. Stacey Chapman builds Her Majesty’s coronation gown from surprising castoffs. And Melissa Emerson portrays a mother’s love on a simple netted fruit bag.

Paul Yore

Paul Yore’s interest in recycled materials initially stemmed from environmental concerns, as well as wanting to pursue a sustainable practice. During his art school days, the free or reduced cost of secondhand goods was also appealing when expensive art materials were out of reach. But Paul’s main driving force in choosing recycled materials connects to queer culture.

‘As a queer artist, my choice in scavenged material centres around an aesthetic of ‘bad-taste’. I’m interested in pop-culture, trash, camp, and lowbrow humour, all qualities which form part of subversive queer culture. I find the conceptual richness of found, thrown-out or waste materials serves as a metaphor for marginality, and by extension, queerness.’

Paul is also motivated by the idea of rescuing pre-loved materials and giving them new life. For example, he uses a lot of secondhand pet blankets with embedded hair. Nothing is off limits in terms of materials and media. Glue and paint may be used to cobble items together, or for tougher materials like plastic, hole punches, eyelets and cable ties work well. Other everyday fibres such as rope, string, fishing line and wire are also used.

Thanks for Nothing features a map of Australia conflated with a skull and the Union Jack flag as the background. Paul says it began as an interrogation of contemporary themes such as nationalism, colonialism, capitalist modes of production, consumerism and the politics of identity through a queer lens. However, the work is quite open-ended and offers a variety of possible interpretations. The work also incorporates diverse words and phrases that are also ripe for interpretation.

‘My interest in found materials extends to using found and borrowed phrases, expressions, slogans, symbols and logos. The layering of those images and sentiments further opens my work as a site for possible critique and speculation. They explore how language informs the ideology that underpins our cultural settings. Interestingly, the words text and textile share an etymological root in the Latin word textere meaning to weave.’

The construction of Thanks for Nothing is essentially a needlepoint embroidery with an appliquéd, quilted border. The wooden frame is embellished with found objects and paint. For the needlepoint section, Paul traced his design onto embroidery canvas and then stitched the main outlines in dark colours. He then slowly covered the rest of the surface with free-form designs, intuitively choosing colours along the way. The border was formed using scraps of off-cuts from larger appliquéd works. After stretching the work onto the frame and fixing it with cable ties, the piece was embellished with hand sewn sequin details and beading.

‘It can be a technical challenge to use materials that vary greatly in their constitution, from coarse materials like denim, jute and thick blankets to fine materials like lace and silk. However, an exciting aspect of my methodology is a sense that things don’t necessarily easily fit together. For me, the variety of degraded or broken-down materials becomes a metaphor for creating a new whole from salvaged parts.’

Paul Yore is based on the unceded land of the Gunaikurnai people in Gippsland, Victoria, Australia. He has exhibited widely, with a major survey exhibition called WORD MADE FLESH (2022) at the Australian Centre for Contemporary Art, which featured 15 years of work and included over 100 textile pieces.

Instagram: @paul.yore

Louise Baldwin

Assemblage art is not for the faint hearted. Juxtaposing disparate elements into a cohesive whole can easily lead to visual chaos. But Louise Baldwin’s ‘bodging’ technique helps her expertly overcome that challenge.

‘My work may appear to take a bish-bash-bosh or that-will-do approach, but in fact, it’s a very slow process squeezing things together and shifting them around, so they work collectively. I like the term bodging to describe the way I combine, mend and repair things. It means using what is to hand rather than going out to find the correct piece of equipment. There is a frugality, inventiveness and accidental beauty to bodging that totally appeals to me.’

Louise admits she also has sentimental attachments to the variety of objects she incorporates into her textile art. She particularly enjoys weathered and handled materials, things that bear a history. Odd things find their way to her collection, from friends’ donated scraps of fabric to items found in London’s plentiful skips to ordinary household packaging. Containers are also of interest, as they often have unexpected details and shapes.

‘I really enjoy the challenge of thinking how materials can come together and have what I call conversations. Materials that have been discarded or lost their original purpose can be transformed and reinvented to take on new meaning. I also always enjoy the lack of hierarchy in the materials I use, treasuring an old plastic top as much as a pearl, and a sweet wrapper as much as gold leaf.’

When using hard materials like wood, linoleum or metal, Louise first drills holes for stitches and then uses simple running stitch, back stitch or anything that looks like sutures. She also uses a random weave stitch to work needle and thread over hard materials. The weaving technique was learned through a meander into basketry techniques, and Louise found it’s great for building up a surface and tethering down threads.

Temporary Condition is a series developed while Louise was building a new house next to her current one. When clearing and sorting out her studio, she found all sorts of ‘nonsense’ and decided to push it together into stitched assemblages.

Louise worked intuitively to create a record of the building process with its scaffolding, wiring, noises and tied down things. A thick wool felt was used as a contrasting material, creating a sense of insulation and calm. It was also functional and provided a blank canvas against the chaotic and worn materials discovered in the depths of her old studio. The materials are held together with staples, binding hand stitch and random weave stitch.

‘There was a lot of anxiety as we prepared to move, so I created the assemblages to describe the change that was occurring. The process of building on such a large scale as a house and making something on a more intimate and emotional level helped me capture some of my history and some of our future.’

Louise Baldwin is based in London, UK. She studied textiles at Goldsmith College London in the 1980s at degree and postgraduate level. Her work is held in public and private collections and has been shown in various exhibitions in the UK. Louise is a member of the 62 Group and Art Textiles: Made in Britain. 

Instagram: @louisebaldwin_textiles

Zipporah Camille Thompson

There’s a special colour of blue found in the American Carolinas. It’s called ‘haint blue’ and it’s Zipporah Camille Thompson’s colour of choice. The rich indigo and cobalt blue connects to the coastal ancestral connections that inform her work, and this work is no exception.

‘This work was part of an exhibition that honoured and memorialised the life of my paternal grandmother, Allean, originally from South Carolina. She loved the colour blue, and she always reminded me of strong, gentle ocean waves in the way she greeted, encouraged and loved you endlessly. Her life was difficult, emerging gracefully from an abusive relationship and raising 11 children on her own. She worked fields, as well as working as a washerwoman, and she spectacularly cleaned everything from cotton to kitchen floors.’

Carolina Gold features a quilted hammock and altar that symbolise eternal rest, with printed silhouettes of sublime psychological and physical landscapes of labour and survival. The pots hold candles and other objects, and the prized rice of Carolina was included to pay tribute to Allean’s endurance, faith and compassion.

One can spend days looking at Zipporah’s collections of recycled works and see something new every time. And it’s remarkable how everything stays together! Drills, rope machines and sewing machines are among her chosen tools. But her favourite technique is weaving.

‘I love weaving! It allows me to continue finding the best kinds of junk and find connections between recycled materials and the woven cloth. It’s so satisfying finding ways to bring everything together through installation and sculpture. It challenges me to see found objects differently and in a new context, while using my creative problem-solving skills.’

Nothing is off limits for Zipporah, including chicken bones. She reports they are incredibly hard to clean and require bleaching and layers of painting. She’s also discovered no matter how much bones are cleaned and sealed, a greenish blue chemical oxidation happens over time. It’s a natural process she’s grown to love and embrace.

Zipporah’s sources for recycled materials are as unique as the items she finds. Of course, thrift stores are a given, but she reports there were plenty of times she scavenged along highways and ocean shores. Friends and family also provide gifts of old or neglected items.

‘For me, the more materials, the better. I’m all about high texture, bizarre surfaces and exquisite details. Roadside tarps, crystals, rocks, shells, fabric scraps, marine rope, hair weave, chicken bones, antlers and bedsheets are some of my favourites. It’s all about juxtaposition, and in my studio, my mantra is ‘everything is sacred, nothing is too precious’.’

Zipporah Camille Thompson is based in Atlanta, Georgia (US). Zipporah is represented by Whitespace Gallery (Georgia) and is an Assistant Professor of Textiles at Georgia State University. She is a recipient of many awards and residencies, including the Margie E. West Prize (2023).

Website: zipporahcamille.com

Instagram: @zipporahcamille

Melissa Emerson

The fact Melissa Emerson’s tender scenes of a mother’s love are stitched onto plastic refuse tickles the brain in remarkable ways. Bubble wrap, bin bags, caution tape and, in this case, fruit netting, hardly seem loving and cuddly. But be assured, a fierce mama bear message is embedded in all of Melissa’s works.

‘I have an inherent need to document my motherhood experiences and feelings. In this piece, the netting is vibrant in colour and features strength and containment. It replicates my own protectiveness, strength and fragility as a mother. The netting can also be easily pulled apart and has areas of transparency, creating a further narrative exploring my vulnerability and fragility.’

Melissa especially enjoys working with found plastics in response to increased plastic waste problems across the globe. She also likes materials that can easily break to enhance her emphasis on vulnerability and fragility. She rarely starts a piece with a definitive meaning in mind, but instead lets the combination of her starting photograph and chosen material inform how the artwork develops.  

Plastic materials also inform Melissa’s stitching techniques. Thinner plastics require very fine needles and slow and careful stitching. More transparent materials require overlapping stitchwork to keep them in place.

To stitch on such tricky surfaces, Melissa typically uses soluble fabric. Sometimes she’ll attach the soluble fabric to the plastic object, stitch and then wash away. Other times she stitches onto the soluble fabric separately, and once washed and dried, she’ll attach the stitched artwork to the object.

‘I really enjoy the unpredictability of working with recycled materials. There is always an element of risk, and I’m never certain how the finished piece will look or if it will even work as an artwork. In many ways, the act of making becomes more important than the outcome. Plus, I’m always looking for ways I can reduce landfill , including only using fabrics that are found or of significance to me.’

I Know Your Face started with a sketch from a photograph onto soluble fabric. Initially, Melissa worried the netting would fall apart after washing the soluble fabric, so she stitched in a very detailed fashion whilst creating many overlapping stitches to create a strong mesh surface. Before washing the soluble fabric, she pinned the artwork to cardboard to prevent the stitches from moving. There was still a bit of movement where the stitching was fairly sparse, but Melissa felt that only enhanced the piece.

‘This work represents the changes that occur over time and accepting I cannot hold on to key moments or control future events. My son and I look directly at each other, and our unspoken words acknowledge we are both present. A single glance demonstrates our shared understanding: I know him, and I get him. Cocooned in a sleeping bag, he’s comforted and secure in the strength of our connection. His innocence and trust in my strength and protection radiates.’

Melissa Emerson is a UK-based artist that recently returned to Northamptonshire, UK, after living in Canberra, Australia. She has exhibited in both the UK and Australia and has won several drawing category prizes for her textile work.

Instagram: @mel_emart

Stacey Chapman

Upcycling is how Stacey Chapman describes her process of building her fabric ‘palettes of paints’ from second hand materials. And she confesses her method has led to hoarding on a grand scale. She’s unable to stop turning something worthless into something of value, especially when the perfect material appears at the perfect moment.

‘I don’t think a psychology degree is needed to diagnose what’s going on. My practice is steered by my obsession of turning rubbish into works of art, as each work always starts with collating and touching materials before any making happens. The end result is like alchemy!’

For this work, that alchemy came to life when a long-time neighbour donated fabric to Stacey. The neighbour had never done so before, but the day she did was the same day Stacey was starting work on the coronation dress. It was the perfect fabric!

Stacey also shopped dead stock fabric stores when she realised her stash of tiny offcuts wouldn’t work for the large-scale figure. Those speciality stores sell leftover fabric rolls from high-end retailers and designers at discounted prices, giving the materials a second life and preventing them from heading to a landfill.

‘Every element of upcycled materials changes the overall look of an artwork. No one can recreate the fabrics or notions that have lived and seen many things before making their way onto my palette. Their back history becomes embedded into the quality of the art, and to me, that is unique and ever so special.’

1953 Coronation of Queen Elizabeth II is essentially a large, quilted jigsaw puzzle, as each element was created separately. Stacey used a wide variety of techniques, including hand stitch, appliqué and beading. Stacey also added her own hair, retrieving clean strands from the bath, coiling them into curls, and stitching each curl down with clear thread.

Stacey especially enjoyed creating the orb. Stitching the faux pearls and diamantes was a challenge, but Stacey was pleased with the layering of metallic gold fabrics and organza. The jewels came from costume jewellery she was gifted as a teen, and she was thrilled ‘they waited 30 years’ for a worthy project.

The sceptre’s long, thin shape proved to be a challenge as it bent easily, even after being created on mount board. So, Stacey used various shades of gold stitching to reinforce the sceptre’s gold rope, various shades of brown organza, and blue chunky glitter fabric.

Sadly, Queen Elizabeth II died before Stacey’s work was finished. Having lived in the UK all her life, the news led to an emotional rollercoaster. Stacey felt immense sadness but also huge gratitude to have had such an inspirational and unshakeable figurehead.

‘Her Late Majesty’s passing gave my project even more meaning and gravitas. It was very important to me that the finish be literally fit for a Queen. I wanted it to be sumptuous, rich and impressive. I also heard the Queen was fond of a remnant and a bargain, so I hope she would have approved of my thoughtful sourcing with sustainability in mind.’

Stacey Chapman is based in Margate, Kent, UK. She exhibits her work in galleries and accepts commissions, and she was awarded the largest artist sponsorship to date from Janome UK. Stacey is also a presenter and has been featured in many publications, including writing as a columnist for Love Sewing Magazine.

Artist website: artseacraftsea.com

Instagram: @art_sea_craft_sea

Facebook: facebook.com/ArtSeaCraftSea

Key takeaways

Each of these artists demonstrates that nothing is off limits when incorporating recycled materials into their art. Here are a handful of ideas to help you add secondhand treasures to your own textile art.

• Like Paul Yore, consider using recycled materials as metaphors. What ideas or themes might your second hand object represent? 

• Look around your tool bench for possible items to include in your work. Louise Baldwin used construction materials like salvaged wood, metal, pegs and staples.

• Don’t limit yourself to thrift shops for materials. Some of Zipporah Camille Thompson’s best finds were found along the beach or highways. Keep an eye out when you next go for a walk.

• Experiment with stitching onto packaging materials. Melissa Emerson especially likes using bubble wrap, fruit netting and other plastic materials. 

• Let family and friends know you’re seeking second hand materials, especially fabrics and embellishments. Stacey Chapman’s neighbour provided the perfect textile for Her Majesty’s coronation dress.

Want more recycled textile art? Check out these additional six artists. 

Inheriting her mother’s cross stitch threads wasn’t just the beginning of a new career for former art teacher Lesley Wood, but, in a few short years of developing her creative textile skills, it led to a number of textile art prizes with recognition and high praise from Hand & Lock, Madeira Threads and The Embroiderers’ Guild.

Since retiring from teaching, Lesley has built upon the skills from her fine art painting degree and she now works with embroidery and mixed media. Her layered and figurative textile pieces often represent women or birds and reveal her intuitive understanding of line, tone, form, colour and texture. Joining The Embroiderers Guild not only helped to develop her skill with textiles but gained her many supportive friends along the way.

Working from her spare bedroom, and using mainly vintage and reclaimed fabrics, ephemera and hand stitch, Lesley unites the historic with the contemporary. The new narratives she creates are sure to set you pondering.

From painting to embroidery

Lesley Wood: I’m a textile mixed media artist from Durham in the North East of England. I was initially a painter, having gained a Fine Art degree from Loughborough College of Art and Design, which I followed by pursuing a teaching career in secondary schools in the UK. Following my retirement from teaching, I’m now fully engaged in my creative practice. 

I spent a great deal of my childhood drawing and painting. My family viewed sewing more as a practical activity rather than something purely creative. They did encourage me to study at art college and this in turn has given me the confidence to paint with fabric and thread. Teaching art and design in schools also contributed to my artistic development. It was when I inherited my mother’s cross stitch threads that I decided to put them to use with a view to creating mixed media art including stitch and hand embroidery. As an art teacher, I’d enjoyed working in mixed media to create my own artwork, so it seemed natural to include fabric and threads.

Gaining textile skills

When I started, I’d not had any formal training in textiles. My degree was in fine art painting and needlework classes at school were very basic, so I’m mostly self taught. Initially, my stitches were thick and clumsy, and the finished work was far from flat. I quickly realised that I needed to acquire some basic skills. 

Joining the local branch of The Embroiderers’ Guild was the solution. I was amazed by the inspiration, opportunities and support that the members offered me. They generously shared their knowledge, and I attended a number of workshops to build up my skills. I’m still learning. I remain very grateful to these lovely, very talented ladies for helping to get my stitching career underway.

That was in 2016, and since then I’ve exhibited in numerous group and juried exhibitions. My work has been selected for open and juried exhibitions across the UK and received awards, including first prize for the Hand & Lock Textile Open Art Prize 2021, and the Madeira Threads UK 2023 competition in the hand embroidery category. 

I exhibited in The Royal Society for Marine Artists’ open exhibition in the London Mall Galleries in 2022. One of my artworks was awarded The Margaret Nicholson Award for Composition by The Embroiderers’ Guild. In 2023, I had my first small solo exhibition, in the North East, and I was delighted to be featured in the March/April edition of Embroidery Magazine. I so enjoy working with fabric and thread, and these achievements are all much appreciated bonuses on top of actually doing the work.

Being a member of the Society for Embroidered Work, I strongly believe stitched art is art, and hope through my work I can show textiles to be a fine art.

Memory and narrative

I would describe my mixed media fabric collages as mostly narrative and figurative. I’m interested and inspired by the origins of domestic everyday textiles. 

Along with my mother’s threads, I also inherited a lot of old family photos and table linen, and it was with these items that I started my mixed media work. I still rarely buy new fabrics and threads. I love the shapes, craftsmanship and feel of these old fabrics, and their stains and marks of previous makers and owners spark my imagination. 

I imagine the events these materials have witnessed and the memories they hold. They’re capable of evoking memories and connecting on an emotional level. I find a lot of these treasures in charity shops and have been gifted a number from friends and family.

Linen is great, but I have included more unusual materials, like plastic tablecloths, in my stash.

I create new narratives from the biography of these fabrics. Objects with a history such as old photos and ephemera are also sources of inspiration.

By reclaiming fabrics, ephemera and hand stitching, I merge the historic with the contemporary and create new narratives from the biography of the cloth.

Birds and words

One of my first embroidery projects, Magpie Works, was inspired by the traditional magpie rhyme ‘One for Sorrow’ and the myths about this bird. Since then my work has had a mostly figurative or bird theme. I hope to bring these two themes together by experimenting with phrases or idioms that associate human nature with bird appearance and behaviour, like ‘proud as a peacock’ or ‘hen-pecked’.

I have completed a piece called Homing Instinct, which features a homing pigeon on a piece of domestic (home) table linen. My latest work in progress recalls the phrase ‘eats like a gannet’. I am stitching the seabird on table linen, playing with the idea of table manners. There are many phrases and idioms linking humans with birds, so I have a wealth of source material for future inspiration.

Inspirational females

The female form, with the addition or emergence of patterns on the body, has been my most recent inspiration. I have an ongoing project called Fictional Females.

The Fictional Females series is part of a challenge from a local textile group I belong to called Northern Threads. Throughout 2023 we created monthly quilt journals on the theme of ‘Words’. I decided I wanted to include a figurative element, so chose to feature women created from words – thus fictional females. 

For each monthly piece, I featured a different book character by a different author, with no repetition of either character or author. Each month I created a small hand embroidered fabric collage, around 15cm x 20cm (6″ x 8″), with images inspired by or associated with the narrative or character. 

I selected fabrics that I thought appropriate, for example, tartan for Lady Macbeth, or vintage floral for Elizabeth Bennett. All the pieces have some words included to meet the brief. The text is usually a quote from the book and I avoid naming the character directly. The viewer has the fun of trying to guess the character’s identity. It’s usually pretty easy. Once the 12 pieces are complete, I intend to construct a book with each piece becoming a page.

Importance of drawing

My studies in fine art made me aware of the importance of drawing, whatever my chosen medium. People feature a lot in my work and that’s a result of a strong interest in figurative art and years of attending life drawing sessions. I’ve discovered I’m able to transfer my drawing skills to textile art, with the help and support of other artists I’ve met online, at group meetings and workshops.

Begin with a word

I often start my planning with a word or phrase, maybe a rhyme or story, then do some research and create a mind map. The words conjure up masses of images – often too many, and I have to pare them down to make a composition work. This is when the initial idea often changes or develops. For instance, I did a series of work from the word ‘domestic’. I became interested in its many meanings (such as a disturbance in the home, a cleaner, or a tamed creature). 

I don’t usually highlight social issues in my work, although some pieces could be interpreted as having a domestic narrative. For instance, Furnished with Memories could be commenting on the loneliness of the housebound elderly. I much prefer to keep my work more open to interpretation by the viewer.

I draw, sketch, make more notes, gather images, take photos and gather fabrics and ephemera. I do use sketchbooks but they are often messy, filled with mostly notes and experiments. I might decide to dye, paint, stain some of these before starting to put the fabric collage together. I audition the materials and take a lot of time arranging and rearranging the materials into a pleasing composition.

As well as using some fusible web, I pin and tack the pieces in place. It’s at this stage the process can become more intuitive and the original plan fades.

Finally, I add further stitching, embroidery and embellishments to complete the work. I work at home in a studio which is really a spare bedroom. It’s not big but a water basin and laminate flooring makes it a workable space.

Bringing joy

A memorable highlight in my career was the first time I sold a piece of textile art. When a stranger buys one’s work it’s always immensely pleasing. Winning the Hand & Lock Open Textile Art Award in 2021 felt wonderful. 

My winning piece was a self portrait with photographic images of my family and ancestors, so it was a very personal response to the brief. I was honoured to see it hung alongside the work of so many other amazing artists at Bankside Gallery in London. Since then, I’ve been fortunate enough to have work accepted into some fabulous exhibitions and have won a number of other awards. 

Once I have an idea I really enjoy seeing it materialise and emerge from the fabrics and threads. I get the most satisfaction from making original work, rather than following someone else’s idea or design.

Teaching art for so many years absorbed my creativity. Now that I’ve retired, I have the head space and freedom necessary to follow my own personal creative path, and that is pure joy.

But, truly, the most joy I get is in the making.

Key takeaways

While Lesley has achieved many awards, it’s clear she creates textile art purely for the joy of making. Let’s take a look at how you can share in her experiences and find your own joy.

• Lesley choses a word or phrase, researches this and then pieces together ideas. Consider what sparks your interest and investigate this further.

• Try taking some fabrics and threads, put all expectations to one side, and simply stitch. As happened for Lesley, when you relax, your intuition will tell you where to go.

• Do you have photos and ephemera that you could add into your textile art? If not, you can acquire them from flea markets, antique shops or online.

• Vintage and reclaimed fabrics are some of Lesley’s favourite materials. Ask if family or friends have any they can donate, or look in local shops, markets or online.

Lesley Wood is a textile mixed media artist from Durham. She completed a Fine Art degree at Loughborough College of Art & Design and an Art Teacher’s Certificate at Leeds Polytechnic. 

Lesley is a member of The Embroiderers’ Guild, The Society For Embroidered Work and Northern Threads textile group. Her work has been selected for many open and juried exhibitions across the UK and received a number of awards, including first prize for the Hand & Lock Textile Open Art Prize 2021 and the Madeira Threads UK 2023 competition.

Artist website: lesleywoodtextileart.wordpress.com

Instagram: @l.wood100

If you enjoyed seeing Lesley’s detailed figurative embroidery, take a look at Catherine Hicks or the intricately embroidered portraits of Nneka Jones. 

Has Lesley’s work whetted your appetite for embroidery and mixed media art? If so, please share on social media – just click on the buttons below.

Brendan O’Shaughnessy is both a sculptor and nature lover who loves the kind of plants and creatures that would make most people squirm a bit. He especially enjoys stinky plants like the corpse lily, sardines, and dead flies, but we’re guessing nothing is off limits.

Armed with degrees in art and science, Brendan is on a mission to show how the two disciplines go hand in hand. His creative choices are also driven by the notion of ‘biophilia’ which suggests humans have innate desires to intimately connect with other life forms. Brendan’s towering wearables that mimic his beloved natural oddities allow humans to crawl into the life of those beings. And his jewellery made with actual dead bugs or shellfish allows wearers to be literally connected with those creatures.

Be assured, it’s a lot to take in. But this adventure into Brendan’s strange world of natural spectacles is surprisingly delicious.

Sculpting with textiles

Brendan O’Shaughnessy: One of my earliest textile works was a small, square quilt that I made as a child with my grandmother. She taught me to sew when I was just six years old and was the first person to bring me into the spectacular world of fibre art. The simple quilt was hand sewn with scrap fabric.

I was more formally introduced to textiles through a course I took when pursuing a BFA in sculpture at the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign (US). My professor encouraged me to explore fibre as a sculpture medium. I also took a garment construction course that exposed me to the possibilities of wearable art and the activation of sculpture using the body.

Before these courses, my work was made with traditional sculptural materials, such as paper maché, plaster and wood. When I started working with fibre and textiles, something ‘clicked’ and my creativity began to flourish. I’ve worked within the realm of fibre and textiles ever since.

Despite a formal education, many of the techniques I use are self-taught and are the result of experimenting in the studio.

Mixing art and science

In addition to a sculpture degree, I also earned a degree in Natural Resources/Environmental Science with a concentration in Fish, Wildlife & Conservation Biology. The knowledge acquired through my ecology courses fueled my artistic practice and vice versa. I cultivated a close relationship between these two seemingly disparate areas of study.

In reality, art and science are not all that different, as they both use creativity to understand the world around us in new and unexpected ways.

At its core, my practice is rooted in biophilia which is humans’ innate desire to establish intimate associations with other life forms in nature. I believe my art facilitates this deep biological connection. My sculptures express the unrestrained richness of the evolutionary history of life on Earth. From ancient life forms to extant species, creation has always rejoiced in its vitality, variance, and vision.

I understand the natural world through the unique perspective of a fibre artist. The natural world is a tangled ball of yarn, an infinitely complex string of ecological entanglements. Climate change and the unprecedented environmental destruction we are experiencing continues to fundamentally alter this tangled ball of yarn. Habitat loss and species extinction unravel the beautiful entanglements. If this trend continues, we will soon be left with an irreversibly simple pile of yarn.

Along with this metaphor, I believe the intrinsic playfulness of fibre and textiles has a special ability to capture nature’s dynamic spirit. There are strong visual connections between this medium and a multitude of ecological phenomena. 

For instance, moss and lichens form lush, living carpets on the forest floor. On a smaller scale, mould operates similarly on the surfaces of decaying organic matter. In addition, certain quilting techniques can achieve a textural likeness to brain corals, segmented worms, and the human fingerprint.

Recently, I have been inspired by the ecology of carrion flowers, which mimic the scent of decaying animals to attract flies for pollination. Some examples include the corpse flower (Amorphophallus titanum), the stinking corpse lily (Rafflesia arnoldii), and the dead horse arum lily (Helicodiceros muscivorus). 

These species release a vile perfume comparable to rotten meat and cheese, and some even emit heat and grow ‘hair’ to further advance their bestial allure. I have been looking to carrion flowers as well as stinkhorn mushrooms to understand the delicate territory where the disgusting and the delicious coexist.

I would describe my work as Neo-Baroque and hybrid. My sculptures are spectacles characterised by extravagance and excess, both of which define the Baroque. They feature rich textures, vivid colours, and dramatic forms.

My sculptures are also hybrids that merge the human form with non-human creatures such as coral, fungi, and microorganisms. My wearable sculptures are both biomorphic and anthropomorphic – they give form to our biophilia.

Wearable fantasies

My love of wearables is intimately connected to the desire to adorn the human form. The beautification of bodies using jewellery and garments is a transcultural and transhistorical phenomenon. It is an essential component of the human condition.

My practice harnesses this aesthetic impulse to cultivate a deeper connection to the natural world. My wearable sculptures facilitate our biophilia through unifying the human and non-human.

I mostly work with two and four-way stretch fabrics. These synthetic fabrics are applied to cotton fabric using free motion quilting. The high loft, textured surfaces are created through a combination of meticulous hand stitching and machine stitching and manual stuffing.

Using stretch fabric with this technique is difficult because the fabrics have very different properties. At times, it feels as though I am wrestling with the fabric to get it through my sewing machine.

But ultimately, I enjoy working with these materials because of the visceral quality they can achieve. I have overcome many of the challenges regarding these materials and techniques by working on small sections at a time.

I also begin quilting in the middle of my pattern piece to lock the two layers in place. This prevents the fabric from shifting. Very large seam allowances can also account for the inevitable shifting and accordion-like shrinkage that occurs from this quilting technique.

Creative process

All of my textile art creations begin with observation. From frequent visits to forests and fish markets or even a trip to the Palace of Versailles, I find inspiration from a multitude of places. I am like a sponge, constantly absorbing the world around me to feed my creativity.

From there, I sketch until a final design is determined. For my wearable sculptures, I use my sketchbook. But for my new experimental work, small sketches are made directly with the material itself. Working this way is more intuitive because it establishes a conversation between the artist and the materials that he or she uses.

Materials have agency: their physical properties influence how we interact with them and thus codetermine the final form of the work. When we give materials the space to speak, they can teach us incredible things.

I next develop a sewing pattern and a plan for the internal structure of the sculpture. I gather materials and begin construction.

During the fabrication process, constant revisions must be made. The wearable sculptures must combat the constant effects of gravity while remaining light-weight, mobile, and portable. Finding that balance looks different for every project, and frustrations inevitably arise through trial and error. Working through these complicated structural issues requires persistence and patience.

I have started looking to historical crinoline structures, farthingales and bum rolls for practical solutions. I also use steel boning and dense quilting.

Most of my past sculptural garments feature coats made with handmade pom poms. Making pom poms with a large variety of different yarns presents infinite colour combinations. When densely applied to surfaces, pom poms achieve a visual likeness to pointillism. Texturally, they resemble moss, intestinal villi, and Lion’s Mane mushrooms.

I use a Pfaff creative 1471 sewing machine made in 1985 that was passed down to me from my grandmother. My other must-have studio tools include my left-handed dressmaking scissors by Galadim, a set of long wooden dowel rods, and curved upholstery needles. 

The dowel rods are used to stuff my elaborately quilted creations, which must be manually stuffed in small sections to achieve the desired texture. The upholstery needles are particularly important when stitching difficult pieces together.

Another tool I commonly use is a clear acrylic ruler with grid measurements. This is helpful for drafting the unusual seam allowances often required for wearable sculpture construction.

Edible textiles and flies

As part of my MFA degree program, I’m moving away from wearables to enjoy new opportunities of working off the body. That shift was initially daunting, but it has allowed me to experiment with materials in ways I haven’t before.

I’m thinking more broadly about themes such as desire, decay, and perverse beauty. My new work blurs the boundaries between adornment, body, nature, and food through material and form. These materials investigate our ancient attraction towards shiny and sparkling objects and our aesthetic impulse to adorn ourselves and our surroundings.

I’m also exploring the transition when peak ripeness and perfection have passed, and decomposition begins. For example, in these instances of decay, flies, with their brilliant iridescence, become a form of adornment that signals the beautiful impermanence of material life. (I use dead flies I find in interior window sills of various buildings. Flies have not evolved to ‘understand’ glass, so many drop dead after their unsuccessful attempts to reach the outside.)

My degree programme has also pushed me to develop unfamiliar materials, such as my edible ‘bio-textiles’. I make them from a type of bioplastic which probably wouldn’t taste very good but is fully biodegradable. My bio-textiles won’t decay unless prompted by the right conditions, such as composting. 

Their ability to biodegrade is important to me because artists must use materials that reflect their values. So, the materials I use cannot contribute toxic waste to our ecosystems or harm us and the non-human forms with which we seek intimate connections. I am also working with cultured pearls, shellfish, anchovies, and rhinestones.

Aphrodisiacs is the fun nickname I’ve given to the small material sketches I’ve created using edible materials, including shrimp, mussels, gelatin, algae and sardines. I don’t consider most of them to be wearable or finished work, as they are examples of my initial approach to working off the body. 

I instead consider them to be Frankensteins of desire that are products of play. They are my first attempt at combining food, adornment, body and ecology. And I plan to use them as references for making larger, non-wearable works.

Despite these material and thematic transitions, a deep connection to ecology and fibre and textile remains in my practice. I continue to employ sewing, embroidery, and other garment embellishment techniques. It is difficult to fully articulate what my recent work is about, because it is so new to me. Most of it remains in the experimental phase, but I am excited to see where it leads me as a fibre artist.

Thoughts on social media

I primarily use Instagram to share my work. Using social media to promote one’s work is incredibly important. Increased visibility and the exciting opportunities that come with it are two major benefits.

Through Instagram, I’ve been able to connect with many different textile artists and designers. Maintaining an active presence on social media can be demanding, but it keeps one’s work on the radar of others.

Creating content for social media can sometimes feel as though one’s work has been reduced to consumables, but the benefits far outweigh the drawbacks. Sharing work can be intimidating, especially when the work is experimental and filled with uncertainty. I have been reluctant to share my recent graduate school artwork for this reason. However, it is crucial to share the behind-the-scenes of one’s artistic practice. It’s an excellent way to build engagement and excitement surrounding one’s work.

The way one’s work is photographed and displayed changes everything. That’s why I stylize photoshoots for all my photographed works.

I assume the role of a world builder for which I consider every detail, including the lighting and background to the type of camera being used. The final image must be curated because the space contributes to the message being communicated by one’s work. A good example of this process can be seen in my work, The Grotesque. The work was captured with a 35mm film camera which worked wonders on the highly stylized tablescape and formal garden setting.

Key takeaways

Although we’re guessing you won’t be inclined to start stitching with dead flies, Brendan’s approach to textile art gives us things to consider:

• Try incorporating unusual objects in your textile art. They don’t have to be scary or creepy. Explore the various ways you might work with them and the impact they have. 

• Brendan enjoys using multiple colourful yarn pom poms because when combined, they create delightful colour palettes. How might you use multiples or repetition of textile elements in your own work?

• When taking pictures of your completed art, think about the setting surrounding your work as much as the work itself. How does that background add to the story behind your work? Like Brendan, pay attention to ‘stylizing’ your photos.

Brendan O’Shaughnessy is an artist-designer working at the intersection of sculpture and garments. He is currently pursuing a Masters of Fine Art in Fiber & Material Studies at the Tyler School of Art and Architecture (Philadelphia, PA, US).

Instagram: @brendan_oshaughnessy

Interested in learning about other mixed media artists using unique materials? Check out these five artists.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Creating impact with thread

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

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

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

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

On the shoulders of giants

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

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

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

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

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

The language of symbols

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

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

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

Making up for lost time

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

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

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

The creative process

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

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

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

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

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

The mother of invention

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

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

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

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

Is it worth making?

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

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

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

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

The power of curating

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

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

Seeing the light

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Key takeaways

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

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

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

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

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

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

Artist website: johh.creatorlink.net

Instagram: @johhembroidery

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

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

Mixed media offers a huge variety of exciting approaches. To find out which ones work for you, textile artist Deb Cooper recommends taking the time to experiment and play. She’s found that the best way to discover which processes to use is to simply try them, mix and match different techniques, and see which results work out best.

Known for her subtle colour palette, Deb gives new life to old materials – with a suggestion of hidden memories within. 

Using natural dyes, ink and mark making, she stitches together small sections of recycled fabric, old book pages, and vintage textiles, including deconstructed lace and doilies. Sometimes machine embroidery is added into the mix, but the key element is hand stitch, which Deb uses to bring together the layers as one unified piece. 

Rather than relying on bold colour, Deb chooses faded, natural tones. It’s the line, flow and textured layers that convey the stories within her compositions. 

When you see her work, you’ll begin to understand Deb’s love of aged and worn materials. The gentle colours and calm tones draw you in to view each piece more closely. You’ll want to study the layers and marks, and try to figure out the layers of meaning and emotion within the work.

A second life

Deb Cooper: My work is like a recipe, spell or talisman – I bring elements together to create an emotion. I tend to work in an instinctive, semi-abstract and subtle way. However, much of my work is inspired by nature and the environment. Plants, meadows, landscapes, old buildings and architectural details all play a part; those elements of my work are more clearly read. 

Being drawn to a layered look, I build up small, understated elements. I include layers of fabrics, papers, paint, ink, dye, mark making and stitch. I want to conjure up a feeling like a forgotten memory or hidden treasure, something both ancient and alien.

My work is often described as having an antique feel, and I think this helps with the response I am trying to evoke.

My compositions, I hope, draw you in for a closer look, so you can work out its meaning and decide how it makes you feel.

I rarely buy new materials. I prefer to source vintage and second hand, giving these soft, faded fabrics a second life. I get a great sense of achievement from using old, recycled and repurposed items in my art. We’ve all become much more aware of the environmental impact of the textile industry, and many artists want to work more sustainably. I find that recycled fabric has so much to offer. There’s the simple pleasure of it – anyone who has stitched on vintage linen cannot deny its soft and superior handle. And older natural fabrics also tend to take dye more readily. 

Vintage materials also speak to me aesthetically. I much prefer the aged and worn, as opposed to shiny and new. These textiles have a story of their own, a history and something to say. They whisper their tales, making you want to know more.

Natural tones and subtle colours

My colour palette – or in some people’s opinion, the lack of colour – always seems to be commented on. There are several reasons I’m drawn to these subtle colours. I like the calm nature of the tones. They don’t shout, they sing softly. I do use colour, but it’s limited and subdued. 

I find that the subject matter and materials used influence the colour range I use. I would say I draw rather than paint, and the marks and textures are critical – using tone and texture is more important than strong colours. 

Natural dyeing is another influence. Rust and plant materials both play a large part in my work. I am not at all studious or scientific, and I’m terrible at keeping dye records, but I read a lot about various techniques. Experimenting and trying new combinations is always great fun. The colours are often delicate or sludgy, but I’m happy with that. I often use modifiers to shift the colour range slightly and tea-dyeing is my go-to technique if I am not happy with how something looks. 

I create art in a very intuitive way, responding to how things are working together in each composition as it develops.

I rarely make preliminary drawings, unless it is for a commission where I need to try and convey an idea to a client. But sketchbooks are my play space, and there’s always one on my desk. I use them to work on ideas and make observational sketches, which filter through to larger artworks. 

I’m a big believer in having an element of creative play to keep growing and I love experimenting with new processes. Trying out different mediums helps, too.

An idea might start with a few written words in a notebook – sometimes leading to a mind map to push my thoughts and ideas further. Quite often I work in groups or series based around a loose theme, and my artworks often feed one another.

Layers connected with stitch

When it comes to creating work, I tend to build things up in layers. Quite often this will be on a dyed background fabric. I’ll add reclaimed fabrics and papers, including things like sewing pattern tissue, old sheet music paper, deconstructed doilies or vintage lace. Pressed flowers and foliage often appear, as do found items like rusty washers and scraps of paper. 

I use both free motion machine embroidery and hand stitch, but rarely machine stitch on its own. I prefer hand stitching as it can blend the layers and create detail. 

Another regular addition is asemic writing, a form of unreadable ‘text’ where the viewer gains context through its aesthetic and emotional presence, rather than any verbal meaning. For the viewer, it’s like there’s a story there but you’re not given the words – it’s up to you to discover it… 

Using mixed media, I’m trying to create a certain look rather than perfect a technique.

I’m not sure but, maybe, I find it easier to include lots of different textures and techniques because I limit my colours. I enjoy the process of mixed media – for me, it’s not about the speed of getting the finished result. It is important to think about how things work together. 

As much as I love mixed media, there is always a balancing act – to create lots of interest but not add too much to a piece. I respond to each layer and think about what I need to add. The hand stitching tends to be done last and is the thing that brings it all together. 

It’s hard to choose my favourite artwork – it’s a bit like picking your favourite child! I’m particularly proud of a group of small works that I started in 2020. The 36…..6×6 series was a self-imposed project that started 36 weeks after the beginning of the first Covid-19 lockdown in the UK. It’s a collection of 36 exploratory works, all being six by six inches, made using varied techniques and materials. 

Although the artworks are cohesive as a group, they explore many of my favoured techniques, but on a small scale that was achievable in larger numbers. At the end of the process, I created a little book to document the project, which I offered for sale via my website. Of course, it wasn’t possible to show the works in person at the time, so this was a great way to share my work with a wider audience.

Expanding horizons

I find that art fairs are a great way to get out and interact with the outside world. I do feel it’s important to take my work to a larger and different audience. It gives me a different perspective.

Working as a textile artist can often be a very isolating and inward looking practice, so I make the time to engage with others.

You do have to be a bit thick-skinned: not everyone will love your work or want to interact with it or with you. But I focus on reaching that one person who loves it – they might never have found me if I was still sitting at my desk worrying about what people think. Fairs are also an opportunity to sell the smaller items that I enjoy creating, making my work accessible to more people.

Workshops are also essential for me for several reasons. They’re a chance to spend time with like-minded people who are interested in what I do. I’ve learnt a lot from attending workshops myself and can appreciate their value to both experienced makers as well as those who fear being creative and need a little encouragement. 

The income generated from leading workshops allows me the opportunity to have the space, both physically and mentally, to work. Preparing for workshops and art fairs is time consuming, and I can’t deny that I’ve often said I want more time to work on larger art works, but these outside activities have an important role to play in my art practice.

Running workshops also help me to review my own work and look at things with fresh eyes. At the moment, I am working with a community garden group, creating colours from the site, which has allowed me time to think more about using natural dyeing in my own practice.

Learning through play

As a child, I was surrounded with fabrics, threads and buttons. I grew up with textiles and making, and one of my earliest memories is playing with the button box at my grandma’s house. My mum was a skilled dressmaker and is now a prolific embroiderer. However, I wasn’t a good pupil and didn’t have the attention span for embroidery. I just wanted to draw or play in the garden instead. I went to art college to study fine art but didn’t complete my degree. Life got in the way and the world of work pulled me down a different path. 

Eventually, I found the patience for stitching. While working, I continued to be creative, attended classes and workshops and joined local textile and embroidery groups. These groups gave me access to more knowledge and specialist workshops. The two artist tutors who have influenced me the most are Gwen Hedley and Shelley Rhodes. I love the way they combine mixed media, drawing and stitching.  

In 2019, just before my 50th birthday, I decided that it was time to work at something I love. It was a bit of a ‘now or never’ moment. Leaving my role as an operations controller for a telecoms technology company, I became a full-time freelance artist and maker. I’m loving it and continue to learn, experiment and create every day. 

Mixed media does give you lots of options but, if you’re someone who gets distracted by all the techniques you have at your fingertips, I suggest you take some time to experiment and play. Mix some different techniques together and see if you like how they work. If you like a particular combination, do some more. Remember to step away from your work from time to time, and go back with fresh eyes. 

Rules are for breaking and if something doesn’t work, it’s only some paper, fabric and a bit of time. I say give it a go and figure out what you like.

Key takeaways

Ideas for exploring mixed media explorations:

• Minimalist or maximalist? Mix up some techniques and see if you like how they work together. Do you prefer a variety of textures and a limited colour palette, a few select techniques, or lots of processes and explosive colour?

• Are you making lots of art, but feeling a little isolated? Expand your horizons through some interactions with the wider world. Look out for art fairs, workshops or embroidery groups where you can meet like-minded people and take inspiration from others.

• To get your creativity flowing, try asemic writing, to make spontaneous abstract text-like forms, which evoke an emotion rather than conveying a legible and verbal meaning.

• Use layers as a way to introduce meaning into your work. Include interesting found objects, scraps of paper, or used textiles that hold memories of a previous life.

Deb Cooper is based in the north east of England, UK. She became a full-time artist in 2019 after a corporate career. After a year based at the National Trust’s Gibside property, she is now working from a studio space in Northumberland. Deb exhibits with the group Fusion Textile Artists.

Artist website: debcoopertextileart.com

Facebook: facebook.com/debcoopertextileart

Instagram: @debcoopertextileart

Have you experimented with mixed media techniques? Why not share a bit about your favourite processes in the comment below.

Swift by name, swift by nature. If you watch textile artist Dionne Swift practising her free motion machine stitching, the first thing you notice is her speed. Dionne is a master of machine stitch and what’s more, she does it with gusto.

Dionne is well known for her colourful, richly stitched embroideries that impart vitality and energy – artworks based on scenes in nature and her beloved village of Tornareccio in Abruzzo, central Italy where she often goes to teach. 

We often talk about painting with thread, but drawing with thread most accurately describes the intention behind Dionne’s machine stitching. Dionne’s focus is on the importance of drawing as preparation for stitching. It’s her way of closely observing what she wants to stitch and it gives her direction. In her own words, ‘the stitch can’t happen without the drawing’.

As Dionne’s work develops, she continues to communicate with us, through her abstract expressionist thread paintings of lines, blocks and colours, the places in nature that lie deep within her heart.

Building a career

Dionne Swift: I’ve been a practising textile artist, and have been teaching for almost 35 years. These days I split my time between Holmfirth in Yorkshire, UK and Abruzzo in central Italy.  

I came to textiles through my two grandmothers. Gran Inglis lived in Glasgow – she was an aran knitter. She never followed a knitting pattern, she just kind of made it up as she went along. Gran Millar smocked and embroidered by hand – she was a good dressmaker and made most of my dresses as I was growing up. When I was about 10 or 11 years old I went with Gran to select a pattern to make a pair of shorts. I chose a tricky Vogue style with inset pockets and a fly zip! She set me up and left me to it, waiting in the living room in case I needed any help.

I followed the steps a bit at a time and, hey presto, in an afternoon I’d made my first garment. That level of independence was so empowering at that young age and it inspired an eclectic homemade teenage wardrobe.

I was pretty academic at school but found my niche after A-levels when I went to study a Foundation Art and Design course at North Warwickshire College. I was then accepted to study textiles at Goldsmiths, and in the late 90s, I gained a Masters in Textiles from the University of Central England (now called Birmingham City University). As a student, my work spanned a range of techniques including embroidery, paper making, felt and print.  

After Goldsmiths I started teaching; it was a very full on and vibrant phase of life. I had three or four part-time teaching roles and I would dash between them during my lunch break. Having just graduated, most of my students were of a similar age to me. Teaching was, and still is a joy; inspiration flows both ways as ideas bounce in all directions.

In 1996, some of my MA colour work was featured in Inspirational Textiles Trend forecasting magazine. Soon after, I produced a range of hand painted devoré scarves and was in the Gift of the Year awards, creating bespoke collections for the Royal Academy shop. By 2000, I was highlighted in several interior design magazines and my devoré velvet scarf collection was featured at Australian Fashion Week in Sydney.

Over the years my work has changed, moved on, progressed. Some say they see the same handwriting running through my body of creative work. Moving and development is vital to me: I get bored repeating the same thing. I need to learn something from each new piece. 

I guess creating art is a process of discovery for me – if I’m not learning anything then it’s time to stop.

Drawing is true seeing

For me drawing is the most immediate form of investigation and discovery – I learn about my environment through observation and translation to the drawn line. I move around a lot, zipping to Italy whenever I can, and so observational drawing helps to slow me down, ground me, and helps me appreciate ‘that place at that moment’. 

Drawing has become the backbone of my practice, everything hangs from this: it gives me ideas, whether it be for jewellery or for textiles. It tells me how to sew, the type of thread I should use, the direction in which to create the stitches and the tension I need.

My work would be nothing without drawing. Some days it’s the only thing I can rely on – it’s true, honest and often pretty raw.

Stitching can’t happen without drawing. When I sew, I’m not picking ideas out of my head, I’m using what’s in my books, on the paper in front of me. It’s constantly informing my practice and that’s what moves everything forward.

I’m against the word sketching. It’s completely different to drawing, which is a deliberate and purposeful act. If I couldn’t do anything else except one thing, it would be drawing. 

When I draw, I’m looking to be the camera and capture a moment in time, in space – capture an atmosphere, capture an environment.

It’s essential to go out and draw in situ. Being in the actual place, looking at real objects makes the action of drawing more challenging. You, as the artist, have to translate the information that you see from 3D to 2D. All the decisions that your brain is making in doing that, are the things that make the work unique. If you let a camera do that, the next person can do exactly the same thing. The way that you interpret the scene, the things that you pick up on make it your own

There are odd occasions when I have to take a photograph, but the ideal scenario is to get the full experience by drawing en plein air. Then you’ve got the memory, your own story and the history related to that place.

People often call my work abstract, though I don’t see it as that. I’m not looking for absolute realism. It’s purely my interpretation of the way that I’ve drawn and the way that I sew on a particular day because I’m emotionally in a certain place. A camera does a good job of giving you a realistic interpretation of a subject. Therefore, when I draw, why should I try to do the same? Drawing gives it more atmosphere.

Draw to inform your stitch

I genuinely suggest everybody draws. I think there’s a real stigma people have developed over the years where, maybe at school, somebody told them they can’t draw. But, with practice, your uniqueness will come out.

Don’t do one drawing and think you can do that in stitch. Do 20 drawings and pick the best, the one that speaks to you the most. Your muscle memory created by drawing with a pen or pencil will filter through and give you more confidence when you begin your machine stitching.

Just slow down and draw, then the drawing will tell you what to do next. Nobody believes me when I tell them that because they all think drawing’s a bit boring – but really it’s the best bit.

Voyage of discovery

If I don’t learn through my work, there isn’t any point. I’m learning about the world, about the things around me. About the way that a leaf is formed, the intricate edge of the bark of a tree, about the shape of a landscape, about the colour of the sky, the shadows on buildings. You notice everything that you normally scan by on a daily basis without stopping to look to really understand it. 

I need to look well enough to be able to put information on paper. The Impressionists would look at a scene again and again and again, and paint it again and again and again. Every day, every moment has different lighting conditions that cast on a landscape. Once, when I was painting a landscape in northern Italy, every time I looked up from my paper, the light had changed and I couldn’t keep up because of that continually moving light. As an artist that keeps me on my toes.

That’s why I find teaching so important. If I can pass on a sense of the importance of the vitality of learning and seeing, I’m leaving an incredibly valuable legacy.

More recently I’ve been drawn to different locations, not necessarily landscapes but cityscapes, villages, buildings, and leaves. We have an olive grove in Italy and the atmosphere underneath the trees is really interesting to me. It’s been the closest thing to me, and so that’s been the subject I’ve drawn from more recently.

Stitching – direct, raw, vibrant

In recent years I’ve focused on working with free machine embroidery. It can be very fast paced and intense but, strangely, this can often calm me.

I sew in the same manner as I draw – it’s direct and raw. I like to build layers of stitch, much as one might with paint. The layers of thread build depth to the surface and richness to the colour and texture of a piece.

Working at speed is down to the beauty of my machine as much as anything else. My Janome HD9, which is a straight stitch only machine, does 1600 stitches a minute and I want to fulfil its potential. In the past, I have used an industrial machine, which did 3000-4000 stitches a minute. I can keep up with that, but there isn’t a broad range of interesting threads that can withstand that speed. My Janome MC6700 has a larger throat area and runs at 1200 stitches per minute, with the bonus of over 200 diverse stitches. I can access plenty of different threads on that.

Embroidery has traditionally had a particular characteristic of being quite slow, sedately sitting by the fire sewing contemplatively. But you can still be contemplative, meditative, and zone out by moving quickly. Some people do it by running or going to the gym where their mind floats off to other places. For me, it’s sewing at speed. If I’m filling a large area with free machine embroidery I have to go quickly or it would take me years.

Everyone does it in their own style and offers their own visual voice to the fabric and to the thread. I think I do that through the character of my marks and of my stitches, the way that I lay threads down, sometimes very smooth, sometimes very textured. 

I usually work with Wonderfil and sometimes Aurifil threads. I use the full range of thread weights that I can put through the needle or in the bobbin, from 100 weight, which is very fine, to 8 weight, which is hand embroidery thread. 

Though I’m no eco-warrior, I use natural materials where I can because they sound nicer when I sew. There’s a certain sweet sound when the needle pierces the cloth. Wool is my preference because it is the softest and I like it to be woven rather than felted because it’s got more stability, more hold in the warp and the weft. But equally working on calico or linen is fine, or silk – something rather heavier than habotai.

Birthday exhibition

Just before lockdown, in 2019, to celebrate turning 50 years young, I created 50 pieces – 50@50. They exhibited in my solo show Momentum at Timeless Textiles, Newcastle, Australia that same year but, unfortunately, by the time the show came to UK soil, it was closed due to lockdown restrictions.  

Each stitched piece is inspired by a drawing of that year. I created far more than 50 drawings, as I always like to make more, working freely and without constraint, then select my favourites.

I explored the sights, sounds and atmosphere of all the places I visited, being pulled and attracted like a magpie to vibrant, rich and effervescent colour.

These relatively small pieces, each approximately 20-25cm, burst with colour and texture as lines of stitch criss-cross to build the composition. I’m very proud of this collection – it took dedication to create, and developing each piece moved my practice into new areas of discovery.

Intense and prolonged periods of sewing have gradually begun to take their toll on my body: shoulders, hands and arms feel each of those stitches, hence I regulate my bouts of stitchery in order to keep my body in good order. However, in 2021 after the passing of my younger brother the year before, I tackled my largest stitched work to date. My brother was a ‘bird man’ – he bred duck, geese, chickens, he loved all things feathered. My Murmuration of stitches is there to help carry him onwards. This piece was part of SEW Rome during Rome Artweek 2021 but now remains at home.

Textiles in jewellery

Recently I have been enjoying incorporating newly revived silversmithing skills into my textile repertoire. One of my early teaching roles was as head of multi-disciplinary design which led me to ceramics, metal, wood and plastics as well as textiles, so my knowledge base is broad.

Forming silver frames, I can encase my stitch and put it central stage in neck pieces and brooches.

I’ve been trying to avoid the excessive use of glass framing, allowing the texture of my work to be seen without a barrier. It’s better still if it can be handled and used, so bags, purses, hand painted and drawn scarves allow us all to engage more fully with that tactile surface. It’s a comforting and real sensation, retained for longer by utilising all of our senses.

Future plans

The exhibitions I’ve got lined up will be drawings with some stitch and some jewellery, all based on the olive trees and olive grove. They’ll be at the contemporary craft shows: Made London; Blue Magpie Crafts, Shropshire; Landmark Arts Centre, Teddington; and Great Northern Contemporary Craft Fair, Manchester.

I have plans to ‘go back’ – back to that basic, raw state of drawing. It’s the start of everything, it informs my stitched line. Drawing is everything and it will tell me where to go next.

Key takeaways

Dionne has developed her own personal creative voice over many years of practice and experimentation. How might you develop yours? Here are some pointers we hope you’ll find useful. Dionne’s explanation of her techniques, materials and advice are useful reminders of how to practise her particular form of textile art. Here are a few of her tips.

• For Dionne, drawing is her first love and always an essential preliminary stage that informs her stitch. If you’ve never taken the time to slow down, sit and draw before making textile art, try it now. You’ll begin to see through new eyes.

• We’ve called Dionne’s style abstract expressionism. It’s not a direct realistic representation of what she sees, but an impression of the lines, colours and textures. How might this style of working inform what you create?

• Dionne wanted people to be able to handle her work, which led to her incorporating it in jewellery and other accessories. Could your work translate into other areas? What about creating fashion, or homewares as a way of expressing yourself?

Dionne Swift is a graduate of Goldsmith’s College, London University and has a Masters in Textiles from UCE, Birmingham. She was a finalist in the Fine Art Textiles Award at The Festival of Quilts 2020. Dionne lives and works between Yorkshire, UK and Abruzzo, Italy, and exhibits and tutors internationally.

Artist website: dionneswift.com

Instagram: @dionneswift

Facebook: DionneSwiftTextileArtist

If Dionne’s free machine embroidery has inspired you, take a look at the work of Haf Weighton who has a different way of building textile art with layers.

If you enjoyed reading about Dionne’s work, please share using the buttons below.

Aran Illingworth has stories to tell, and many can be hard to hear. Having worked in nursing and social care, Aran saw firsthand the impacts of homelessness, poverty and social deprivation. Her textile portraits now bear witness to those experiences, walking the delicate line between pain and hope.

Aran’s Indian aesthetic is clearly present through her use of intricate appliqué and stitch. Bold colours are layered to create images of traditional garments and settings. Viewers can easily imagine the bustle of busy streets or the spices in the air that surrounds her portraits’ figures.

Still, not all of Aran’s stories are so bittersweet. The pandemic lockdowns inspired her to explore ways to stitch the birds and other wildlife she saw on her daily walks. Of course, she still infused traditional Indian imagery in those works, including an artistic nod to a particular Indian artist from the late 1700s.

Aran’s portfolio is an important reminder that art is not only about beauty. It also has huge potential, and dare we say an obligation, to tell stories that make us uncomfortable at times. Welcome to Aran’s world.

Stitched fingers

My earliest memory of working with textiles was using my mum’s sewing machine. I was eight years old, and I particularly remember getting the sewing needle caught in my fingernails! Thankfully, that experience didn’t put me off sewing, and I continued under my mum’s guidance. My mum had enormous skill and experience in working with textiles. She also taught me how to crochet and embroider.

Although I was initially self-taught, upon leaving nursing and after the birth of my son, I decided to get formal training to help develop my skills. I first completed A-levels in a variety of art courses, along with various City and Guilds courses and diplomas. In due course, this led to completing a BA Degree in Applied Arts at the University of Hertfordshire.

I love textiles, especially the colours they provide and their versatility as an art medium. And from the start, I’ve sought to produce works that use textiles in ways that replicate a fine art piece.

Connecting to culture

My sense of form and colour is informed by a specifically Indian aesthetic. This is especially apparent with my use of vibrant colours in my works featuring Indian subjects. For example, When We Were Very Young features a vibrant use of colour in its depiction of a young Indian girl holding a badly broken, but cherished, doll. I made two versions of this work and, although the mood varied between the two pieces, the vibrant sense of colour did not.

However, if you look at my more recent work, such as The Man and His Friend II, the colour of the homeless man’s clothing is particularly striking. But those colours weren’t present in the original photograph I used. I introduced the colours myself as an expression of my Indian colour sense.

In terms of form, Madonna and Child, which depicts a young mother living on the streets of Delhi with her child, captures the sense of movement in Indian sculpture, such as Chola statues from the 12^th century and even earlier works. To that end, my work at one level can be viewed as a current manifestation of a much older tradition.

Poverty exposed

I aim to produce images which evoke a clear emotional response in the viewer that can range from compassion toward the poor and a heightened awareness of their predicament to lighter emotions in relation to less politically charged subjects.

My concerns around poverty and social deprivation strongly reflect my background in nursing and social care. I originally trained as a psychiatric nurse where I saw the results of poverty and deprivation on a daily basis: homelessness, alcoholism, drug dependency, and psychiatric disorders in offenders as well as other types of people. 

For example, Rabbit Proof Fence expresses how children’s voices can go unheard in society, especially those that are destitute and displaced. Those children struggle for life every day, and they are victims of forces beyond their comprehension, as their fundamental rights are disregarded and trashed. On The Bench features many shades of hidden meaning about the juxtaposition of the untold wealth of experience and untold suffering experienced by the homeless and refugees.

My concern with dementia and other age related issues also arose naturally as a continuation of my work as a nurse. Remember Me addresses the way dementia undermines and finally destroys the powerful memories and emotions that hold the secret of happiness and sadness in the life of the sufferer. Thankfully, life changing research with the aim of eliminating dementia continues.

Animal attraction

During lockdown, I started featuring animals and birds in my work, as I spent a lot of time in the garden and taking short walks watching for birds. I love wildlife, and I see quite a variety where I live in the countryside by a lake. I decided to challenge myself to create birds for a change. 

Heron was inspired by a heron I’d always see on my walks. I sought to incorporate an Oriental artistic style. Black Hooded Oriole was my take on Shaikh Zain Ud-Din’s artwork using opaque colour and ink on paper from the Impey Album, Calcutta, 1778.

Both The Man and His Friend and The Man and His Friend II combine themes of social deprivation and animals. In human relationships, love is not always unconditional and can become warped through ulterior motives or other pressures. But animal love is unconditional, and for the homeless their animal might be their only relationship. Their pet provides a source of courage, strength and love free from any warping effects among humans.

The creative process

Ideas for my work are ultimately generated out of the passion I have for certain themes. They can be socially relevant, such as homelessness, forced migration and dementia. But themes can also reflect other concerns and interests, such as wild animals, flowers or landscapes.

When looking for a subject for a new work, I generally start sourcing photographs and other images. I often use the Internet, although I’ve also used photographs taken by me or my family and friends. I look for images that resonate with me and speak to my concerns and sympathies. It’s essential that an image evokes a sufficient response in me.

Once I choose an image, I use my computer to electronically posterise and resize it to my preferred dimensions. But from then on, the focus shifts to the subject, the person in the portrait. The background follows at the end once the main image has been completed.

There are several stages in creating the subject’s image. I first print the posterised image and then trace the different sizes and shapes to create a template for building up a layered image. I then trace the individual template shapes onto fusible webbing, which will be ironed onto corresponding fabrics. Using a good pair of embroidery scissors, I cut out each fabric piece, taking care to leave extra fabric along any edges that will be tucked under adjoining pieces.

After cutting all the pieces, I start the jointing process by assembling them on a separate piece of calico. As I go along, I check the accuracy of the assembly by placing the traced template on the fabric. I refer to the original photographic print from time to time for visual reference. I also take care to ensure the backing paper of the fusible web is peeled off before assembling the pieces.

Once I’m pleased with the assemblage, I iron everything onto the calico. And then I start the process of hand stitching to add details to the eyes, teeth and other prominent features. The stitching really brings the pieces to life, but nothing would be possible without putting the appliqué framework in place first.

When stitching over underlying appliquéd fabrics, I follow an unwritten method, which I have developed over several years to achieve my desired effect. A methodical approach is essential, as impulsive stitching wouldn’t give the quality of work to which I aspire. I mainly use backstitch with a single floss of cotton thread. As time has passed, however, I have sought greater intricacy in my stitching, so my stitching is ever more like painting with thread.

I have also introduced machine stitching for some parts of my images, as well as fabric paint. On the Bench is a good example in which the bench structure is machine stitched, and the homeless man’s leg is partly painted with fabric paint.

Work on the background only happens once the main image has been completed, and the time it takes to complete a background varies widely among different works. In some instances, the background is a plain fabric mount without detail, such as with Madonna and Child, Madonna and Child III and On the Beach. However, the background can be much more elaborate, as in East of Eden.

Defending textile art

I can’t say textiles are better or worse than any other media for expressing my concerns. However, because textile art has historically been undervalued and overlooked as an artistic medium, part of my challenge is to correct that false impression.

Textile artists are constantly confronted with the artificial distinction between fine art and textile art. Textile art is widely regarded in artistic circles as a lesser art form. Terms like ‘applied’ or ‘decorative’ art are often applied, as well as ‘craft’. This appears to be at least partly due to the association of textile related activities with domesticity and femininity. The fact textile art can also serve a practical purpose also poses a challenge in the fine art world.

These attitudes have always been a challenge for me, but I’ve never turned back or been tempted to look at any other medium. I have always been fascinated with both textiles and creating realistic images, and I continue to fight to be seen and heard.

Key takeaways

Aran states on her website that she wants her work to serve as an indictment of India’s social condition in the 21st century. Her passion to confront poverty and social injustice informs virtually all of her work. In this regard, consider the following:

• Aran purposely infuses the aesthetics of her Malaysian-Indian culture in her textile art. What aesthetics from your culture(s) or background might you incorporate in your own textile art?

• Think of a personal or social cause that stirs your passion. What can you create in response to that challenge or issue? Experiment with a variety of techniques and explore how your passion informs your artistic choices.  

• Consider using technology to ‘posterise’ an image of your choice to create a template. Along with Photoshop, there are other computer programs and tablet and phone apps that can help you achieve a similar effect.

Aran Illingworth is Malaysian-Indian by birth. Currently based in Cottenham near Cambridge, she has lived and worked in the UK since the 70s. Aran earned a BA Degree in Applied Arts from the University of Hertfordshire, and her work is exhibited in the UK and internationally.

Artist website: www.aran-i.com

Facebook: facebook.com/aran.illingworth

Instagram: instagram.com/aranillingworth

Interested in other textile artists who use their art to address important social issues? Check out Nneka Jones’ work, which tackles important social justice issues in the United States.