Her intricately collaged surfaces are filled with life’s small moments. Bits of landscape, shifting seasons and familiar wildlife merge seamlessly to tell stories inspired by her daily walks and travel.

There’s always a playful twist or two with stitch, paint, paper and image transfers. Cheeky animals often take centre stage. Wonky text meanders across the cloth. Even an inherited badge tells part of a story.

Thrifted fabrics and found notions bring extra charm, while machine and hand stitching build rich, textural surfaces.

Suzette’s art is packed with delicious small touches, and we can’t get enough of it. Look once and you enjoy it. Look again and you’ll likely see something new.

Narratives & memories

What is it about storytelling that captures your interest? 

Suzette: My work is rooted in narrative and memory, drawing on the landscape, wildlife and lived experiences that shape my everyday life.

I get excited when there’s something new in the landscape to portray. I’m looking for connections and a way of bringing that something new into a piece of work. I carry motifs and themes into the next piece which creates a seamless story. 

“For me, storytelling feels instinctive.”

Suzette Smart, Textile artist

What is one of the first textile artworks you remember creating? 

My paternal grandparents lived on the island of Ynys Môn in North Wales, and I’d stay with them during the holidays. I always remember sitting at my grandmother’s feet, sewing or making something. She bought me a concertina sewing box. 

My grandfather had worked in textiles manufacturing at Courtaulds, and his father had been a cotton mill director in Oldham, Lancashire. I wish I could go back and find out more, but I think this is where my textile journey must have begun. 

I’ve kept a small piece of embroidery I made when I was six or seven; I stitched my initials onto my marble bag. It reminds me of sitting and creating with my grandmother.

Years later, I included some of that marble bag in a child’s dress piece I made. It’s called Ble rwyt ti’n mynd, aderyn bach syw?, which means ‘where are you going to, little laden bird’? It comes from a traditional Welsh nursery rhyme. 

What was your route to becoming a textile artist? 

I took a vocational qualification (BTEC) in General Art & Design, where I had some fantastic tutors. They widened my viewpoint of how I could draw with collage. That stayed with me and is now a significant part of my process.

From there, I went to the University of Ulster in Belfast and studied for a BA (Hons) in fashion and textile design. I had every intention of swapping courses to embroidery, but it never happened.

It took another few years and probably a bit of life experience before I started stitching again. Thankfully, the stories had been waiting to be made. I joined a network of local artists, which I’m still part of, and I’ve been a practising artist and tutor for the last 20 years.

Embracing imperfections

Tell us about your favourite fabrics and threads. 

I’m drawn to older fabrics, which may be a little worn or have a social history. I’ve always enjoyed the imperfections, as it gives me something to work with. It’s harder to work with new cloth, as it doesn’t blend so easily when I’m stitching. 

The free machine threads I use must be reliable and are the workhorse of a piece. I have a whole selection of light colours for blending and some favourite darks for drawn lines. 

My hand stitching threads are my pleasure and reward! They’re chosen for colour, texture and thickness for the line I want. I’m always open to using new ones too.

What are some of your signature motifs or themes? 

Most of my work focuses on landscapes, wildlife and lived experiences. Birds became quite significant in my work when I was part of an exhibition called Birds of Wales at Oriel Ynys Môn in 2016. They’re often the storyteller of a piece, and I can take them back to a time and place.

My husband and I are keen walkers, and I’m often picking up motifs along the way which then reappear in a couple more pieces.

A single glove on a post became central to my work called The Lost Glove, and then it became a pair again in Free to Roam. 

A Women’s Land Army badge from the Second World War has also made an appearance in a few pieces, and I’ve recreated it as a stitched brooch. It belonged to someone in the family, so there’s that connection too. The war led to shortages of workers on farms in the UK, so women stepped in to help grow more food and keep people fed. 

Are your pieces carefully planned or is it a more intuitive process? 

It’s probably something in between. I don’t tend to sample before working on a piece, but I will refer to previous works. The main components of a composition might be decided before I begin, but there are always new things to discover along the way. 

I do keep sketchbooks, which also serve as my walking and gardening diary. If I’m working on a piece, I might go wandering around the garden for inspiration and something seasonal to include. 

We’ve undertaken several long-distance walks in recent years, and I’ve recorded some of the places we visited. We stay in our camper van, so there’s a lot of time spent outdoors. I might get a quick line drawing and a few notes in over a sandwich, but I can lose a couple of hours sitting out sketching when we return from a day’s walking. 

I also have a few fabric scrolls on which I’ve begun stitching my walks. They’re an extension of my sketchbooks and another form of recording and mark making. 

“My two favourite months for garden inspiration are spring and autumn, beginnings and endings.”

Suzette Smart, Textile artist

Repurposed materials

How would you describe your creative process? 

I keep a basket of light-coloured fabric scraps to use for the background. I might paint onto some of them with gesso or tea stain to alter them. I prefer using thrifted and gifted fabrics, including linen, lace and fabric scraps. 

When I collect enough fabrics from which to choose, I start moving them around to create a size I’m happy with. I then tack them together.

I start building a composition with fabric and sometimes paper. I’ll use Bondaweb fusible webbing where necessary, glue stick, pins and tacking stitches. Whatever works at the time.

Once I’m satisfied with the overall design of the collage, I’ll swap back and forth between hand and machine stitching, adding extra fabric scraps as needed along the way. I love all aspects of my process, but there’s something quite satisfying about those final stitches. 

“I embrace reusing materials as both a creative and environmentally considerate practice.”

Suzette Smart, Textile artist

Each of your works is packed with many wonderful points of interest. How do you know when to stop?

I mostly know when I’m finished with a piece, but to make sure, I’ll take a picture and crop it. This either reaffirms my thinking or exposes something I hadn’t noticed. If this happens, I might leave it for a week before changing anything.

Typography & stitching

How do you choose what words to include, and how do you incorporate the text into your work? 

The words I feature come to mind when I’m working on a piece, but then sometimes they don’t come at all. 

I use a variety of methods to incorporate text and choose the one that best suits the work. I might use free machine stitching, but I also print various type sets to cut up and piece back together. Those manipulated letters are then transferred onto my chosen fabric by painting with gesso and then pushing the printed letter into the wet paint. After it dries, I sponge the paper away. 

If a letter somehow ends up being placed upside down or back to front, I might let it go. But if it’s jarring to the work, I’ll correct it. 

When including paper elements in your work, how do you attach them without damaging them?

I use Bondaweb fusible webbing to give stability to the paper and then attach it like I would a piece of fabric. If it’s a sample that gets handled at a workshop, the paper may tear. I don’t mind that, though, and I make the repair part of the story.

I also liberally rub on clear furniture wax to add a little more patina to the paper and help it better blend into the work.

When it comes to hand stitching, do you have any preferred stitches?

I like mixing up running, back and stem stitch to alter a line as if I were using a pencil. Sometimes a new stitch comes along, like the fishbone stitch, and I can’t get enough of it.

I’ll go down to a single strand if I have some fine detailing.

In this detailed image from A Turn in the Road, I’ve used long and short stitches for the dog and then running and back stitches to outline. 

The threads were chosen for their various thickness, texture and colour. The old crochet thread I’ve used adds depth to the dog’s coat with its thickness and the way it sits on the surface.

“I have threads I like at the moment, but I’m happy to mix up perlé, linen, wool, stranded, old and new.”

Suzette Smart, Textile artist

Inventive titles

What was the inspiration for Over the Grassy Bridge? 

This work features one of my favourite walks from home, and the grassy bridge takes me across the canal and through the field. 

There’s a badger in the story because we pass badger’s door on our towpath walk. Someone has carved the door and name into the bark of an old tree. 

The reds of the little cottages are a nod to the colour of the traditional brickwork in this area on the Welsh/Shropshire border.

Tell us about the lyrical name of your work Springtime Conversation: Sipit…Pipit…Sipit… 

The bird featured in this work is a Meadow Pipit, and the title is his song. We would see them perched on top of the heather when walking coast to coast in Yorkshire.

A path stitched with backstitch and running stitch creates a focus within the work. We had a backpack for our little dog, and when we let her out, she would run along the path with happiness.

The paper and fabric animals are a reference to the distinctive Belted Galloway cattle we’d seen on this part of the walk. 

The blues in this piece take me straight back to when the heather-coloured moors met with a perfect blue sky.

Developing personal narratives

Will you be sharing some of your storytelling techniques in your upcoming Stitch Club workshop?

Students will create a layered collage drawing on different elements from within my work. I’ll be presenting different ideas for collage, including how to create a new fabric from fusing special fabric scraps. I’ll also show how to elevate keepsakes into small treasures on a platform of layered fabrics.

I hope students will take away practical ideas for creating their own stitched collage. More importantly, though, I hope they find some ideas that lead to identifying their own motifs for creating narratives that are personal to them. 

Tell us a bit about your maker space…

My home studio has two windows that provide wonderful light in which to work. I’ve thought about getting a studio away from home, but if I’m working on a project, I’ll quite happily stay up until one in the morning, which wouldn’t work anywhere else.

I also have so many things around me that can serve as reference or are simply just waiting to be included. 

We’ve lived here for 21 years, and I have all the familiar of the outside space too. I head for the canal around the corner if I need thinking time during the day. 

What are your must-have tools, supplies or materials?

I love gifted fabrics, as they bring something new and unexpected to my work. They often take me on a new journey of discovery. I also have favourite dark and light threads for hand and machine stitching. I use them to draw, blend and highlight. 

I work on a Bernina 1008. It’s a real workhorse, and I’m always apologetic when taking it in for service!

You have a vibrant Instagram feed. What are your thoughts about using social media?

Instagram has given me incredible opportunities to grow my business, but I’m grateful I found my creative style when I did. Following your own creative journey can be challenging when there’s so much out there. It’s easy to absorb other people’s work without realising it. 

That said, social media is fantastic for networking and connecting with an audience. It’s also a great way to document your development as an artist. 

What excites you most about teaching, and what are some of the challenges students bring to your workshops?

My workshops are inspired by whatever I’m working on at the time. I love sharing the excitement of discovering a new material, technique or idea and then seeing students’ personal spin. Everyone brings different skills, materials and colour preferences, and that individuality really shapes the work that comes out of the sessions.

A challenge is that experience levels vary a lot, so I design workshops that can be accessed at different stages. I provide a starting point but leave plenty of space for personal interpretation.

I also always bring a wide range of samples and ideas, so students can work at a level that feels right for them. And I bring practical resources like motif templates, as drawing can sometimes be a barrier. I try to remove as many obstacles as possible so that students are free to focus on creating art with fabric and thread. 

Her creative foundations are deeply ingrained. Raised within an extended family of artists and makers, Ana was immersed in texture, colour, pattern, paint and stitch from an early age. Therefore, it’s no surprise that her practice embraces a wide range of mixed media. She selects techniques and materials that best express the narrative at the heart of each work.

Curiosity and experimentation are central to Ana’s practice. Working with layered images, textures and stitching, she embraces learning through making. 

Ana Buzzalino: My work is defined by layers and texture. I build these using a combination of surface design techniques such as painting, monoprinting, screen printing, collage and, of course, stitching. I love the discovery that comes from working in layers and allowing different processes to interact in unexpected ways.

In recent years, my work has increasingly explored the impact of history on our culture today. In a world where everything feels fast, new and polished, I am drawn to the quiet persistence of the past. 

Old buildings, weathered walls, peeling paint and rusting metal all carry the marks of passing time – marks that modern surfaces rarely hold. These traces of history have a soul, and I return to them often for inspiration. 

This interest led me to work on a series about grain elevators. The tall, imposing structures once dominated the North American prairie landscape. Many of them are disappearing now, and documenting that visual and cultural shift felt important to me. 

Their vertical forms, their textures and their gradual loss provided both visual material and conceptual grounding for the series. They exemplify the themes I return to often: memory, change and the traces left behind.

Look & look again

I aim to create pieces that invite the viewer to pause and look, then look again. I want people to slow down, to notice details, textures and layers that might not be immediately apparent. 

While I often work with elements of realism, I am equally interested in capturing the atmosphere of a place or an image – the feeling, the light, the mood and the quiet stories embedded within it.

Storytelling is always at the heart of my work, even if the narrative is not immediately obvious. Each piece has a story in my mind. Whether it’s about a building, a landscape or an object, I try to convey its essence through texture, colour and composition. 

I enjoy the tension between what is visible and what is suggested, allowing the viewer to explore and form their own interpretations.

Ultimately, I hope my work offers a moment of reflection. In our fast-moving world, I want to create art that encourages people to consider the passage of time, the traces left behind and the quiet beauty in the ordinary. 

In the beginning

Every piece starts with an idea. Sometimes it comes from an image I’ve taken on a trip or from a texture that catches my eye. It might even be something as simple as a rock I’ve picked up. 

Researching and exploring new ideas is an important part of my process. I collect images, textures and colours. I cut papers and paste them into my sketchbook. 

I’ll take multiple photos of a place or object, exploring different views and angles. I’ll draw thumbnails or create small collages to test compositions and colour combinations. 

“Research helps me understand my subject more deeply and informs the choices I make in materials, composition and stitching.”

Ana Buzzalino, Creator and maker

Making choices

After time spent exploring an idea, I consider how best to bring it to life. I decide which techniques and materials will suit the concept and help me convey the atmosphere, texture or story I have in mind. 

This often means creating my own fabrics through monoprinting, painting or other surface design methods, so the materials themselves carry the textures and colours I want to explore. 

I may do this by literally bringing in the landscape. For example, in Abandoned, I rusted fabric by wrapping it around old metal pieces in a disused sugar mill factory in Kauai, Hawaii.

Creating layers

Imagery plays a huge role, and I use it in different ways. For example, I often merge multiple images in PowerPoint. In Where the Oceans Sing, I merged 17 images to get what I wanted. I made the final image into a digital file and had it printed by the company Spoonflower – I’ll often do this when working at a large scale.

Another method I use is image transfer. I print my own images onto transfer paper using my inkjet printer, then I use a hot iron to transfer the image onto the fabric.

Stitching decisions

When I feel the concept is clear, I move on to stitching. This can take different forms depending on the piece. For example, if I’m working with a digital image, I often begin with machine stitching to build structure and definition. I leave hand-stitching for the final layers to add texture, depth and subtle detail. 

In other works, all the stitching is done by hand, carefully layering vintage textiles, lace, ribbons and other materials to create rich, tactile surfaces.

Each decision, from the choice of fabric to the type of stitch, helps shape the story I want to tell and the experience I hope to give the viewer.

“I’m always thinking about layers, textures and how the materials interact.”

Ana Buzzalino, Creater and maker

Learning through making

One of the most important things I’ve learned is to trust the process and not make everything about perfection. 

Not everything you make has to be for show.  Every piece teaches you something, whether it’s about materials, techniques or even about yourself.  

I also don’t feel the need to finish everything I start. If a piece isn’t going the way I intended, I put it aside. I’ve learned that there’s value in knowing what doesn’t work. 

I’m not too precious about materials either. Some pieces are meant for the ‘wood pile’. Discarding materials that aren’t working keeps the mind uncluttered and allows you to start fresh. I like to begin each new project with a clean studio, so I can focus fully on the materials at hand, without distraction. 

“Allow yourself to make mistakes – or, better yet, treat them as learning opportunities.” 

Ana Buzzalino, Creater and maker

Creative roots

Creativity has always been at the heart of my family. I was born in the small seaside town of Necochea in Buenos Aires, Argentina, and my love of fabric began at a very young age. My mother, new to a small town and often sewing to pass the time, would let me sit beside her while she worked. 

My mother used to give me fabric scraps to play with. I would cut them into shapes, slit the centre, and magically have a poncho or skirt for my teddy bears. During those hours beside her, I learned how to handle fabric and thread. 

Visits to my grandfather’s cashmere and suiting business in Buenos Aires added another layer of inspiration. I was given fabric samples to explore. This sparked a fascination with texture, colour and the possibilities of textiles that has stayed with me ever since.

My grandmother was a milliner and an excellent seamstress, and my great-grandmother made wedding dresses for a living. I still have some of their pieces. Those treasures connect me to their skill and creativity.

Art was also a part of my life through my extended family. My tía Mimi, who lived in Santiago, Chile, was an internationally celebrated artist and etcher.

My aunt Yente and uncle Juan del Prete were both artists. I remember visiting their small apartment in Buenos Aires, with the smell of paint and turpentine, every surface covered with paintings, and my uncle’s sculptures everywhere. 

My favourite uncle, Eugenio, was a draftsman who made signs for local businesses. He would let me into his studio under supervision. I was amazed by the papers, rulers, pencils, scissors and colours all around – everything was done by hand then. Those visits filled me with delight and curiosity. They planted an early love of experimenting with materials.

My parents encouraged creativity in all its forms. They supported me in taking classes with a wide variety of materials and techniques. They fostered a curiosity and confidence that still drives my work today. 

Growing up surrounded by talented, creative family members taught me to value craft, experimentation, and storytelling through materials – a foundation that continues to influence my textiles and mixed media art.

Discovering fibre art 

After marrying young, I moved to Canada. This was a huge change for someone from such a close-knit family. Money was tight, but I managed to buy a sewing machine and began making clothes, which kept my creativity alive. 

One day on a lunchtime walk, I stumbled into a quilt store. The work that caught my eye wasn’t for sale, but the owner offered to teach me to make my own. That class changed everything. Within a year, I was teaching at the store, and my passion for quilting and fibre art had truly begun. 

Since then, my work has grown and evolved, blending fibre and mixed media, surface design and stitching. 

I work from a studio in my home in Calgary. There I can immerse myself in the layers, textures and stories that inspire my art every day.

Advice on offer

If I could sit down with my younger self, the one just starting out, elbows deep in fabric and ideas, I’d have a few things to say. Not about techniques or tools (though those matter), but about the mindset, patience and joy this path requires. 

Back then, I often looked outward for permission, compared my beginnings to someone else’s middle, and rushed toward finished pieces instead of enjoying the process. 

With time, stitches and many creative detours, I’ve learned to listen more closely to my materials, my intuition and the quiet voice that says, ‘this might be something’.

Here are a few things I’d whisper, gently and often:

Start before you’re ready. Waiting until you’ve learned more, cleaned your studio or ‘figured out your style’ can keep you stuck forever. Begin with what you have, and where you are. Confidence comes after the doing.

Try everything, but keep what resonates. It’s tempting to chase every new technique, but over time you’ll notice a few that feel like home. Keep your curiosity but honour your own preferences.

It’s okay to make ugly work. Really! The pieces you cringe at now are part of your growth. Often, they’re necessary detours that help you develop your voice.

Every stitch, every experiment, and even every discarded piece teaches you something, whether its about your materials, your techniques or, most importantly, yourself.

“I’ve learned to trust the journey, embrace mistakes as learning opportunities and allow curiosity to be the guide.”

Ana Buzzalino, Creator and maker

Fostering connections

Sharing ideas, learning from others, and seeing how artists around the world approach their work is both inspiring and motivating.

I am a member of SAQA (Studio Art Quilt Associates), an international organisation dedicated to promoting art quilts as art and supporting the education of artists. I also serve on the SAQA Board of Directors, which allows me to contribute directly to the organisation’s mission and support other artists in the global art quilt community.

Being part of SAQA connects me with a network of like-minded artists from around the world who share my passion for pushing the boundaries of fibre art. It provides opportunities to exhibit my work in international shows, participate in educational programmes and engage in meaningful conversations about art and process.

For me, this connection is invaluable. It reinforces that there is a place for experimentation and creativity in textile art, and it reminds me that even when a composition is unusual, unconventional and ‘out there’, there is an audience who will understand and appreciate it.

The passage of time

I began my journey as a traditional quilter, learning the techniques and structure of quilting early on. In 1993, my family and I moved back to Argentina as expats. Over the nine years we spent there, I began teaching quilting to the international community. 

While in Buenos Aires, I also took extensive painting lessons with two wonderful teachers, which opened my eyes to new ways of seeing colour, texture and composition.

By the time we returned to Canada, my work had started to evolve. The quilting world itself was changing. Artists were experimenting with all kinds of techniques and pushing the boundaries of fabric. 

I began exploring ways to incorporate painting into my textile work, which led to a period of experimentation. Some pieces were challenging or ‘ugly’, but each one taught me something. 

During this time, I also connected with well-known international teachers, whose guidance and feedback helped me refine my techniques and develop my own artistic voice. 

Over the years, my work has grown to combine quilting, painting, surface design and stitching in layered, textured and narrative-rich pieces.

Sharing my passion

Creating my Stitch Club workshop was such a learning curve. I picked up so much about videos, timing and all the technical details of filming. However, what I loved most was sharing my love of textiles with a wide audience, and especially my fascination with rocks, pebbles and stones.

That passion started when I was very young, walking along the beach with my dad. He would joke that it was impossible to take a walk with me because I’d keep stopping to pick something up, examine it carefully and if it passed muster, tuck it into my pocket to bring home. 

Thinking about those walks while filming kept me present and connected. It helped me bring that personal story – and my lifelong love of texture and detail – into the workshop.

Letitia finds inspiration in the local landscape, changing seasons, wildlife and found photos and ephemera that spark what she affectionately calls the ‘daft stories’ behind her work.

Letitia has discovered that creative freedom comes from bravely following wherever her hands and imagination take her. Whether she’s working with paper or fabric, pencil or stitch, paint, print or collage, she responds intuitively to marks, shapes and colours. Her work grows in layers, inviting viewers to linger and discover.

A lifelong educator, Letitia delights in sharing her experience, helping emerging artists embrace curiosity, spontaneity, and the simple joy of making.

Treasures & folklore

Letitia Thompson: I’m inspired by the big skies and changing seasons of my local landscape, as well as the characters and creatures that surround me. 

I live in a small village in Lincolnshire, and the comforting rhythms of village life, with its folklore interwoven into the landscape, are integral to my work. 

I love finding mysterious treasures at charity shops and car boot sales. Old letters, anonymous photographs and discarded keepsakes often kickstart the beginnings of a narrative or a character.

“I learned from a very young age that stories are powerful and full of magic.”

Letitia Thompson, Mixed media artist

Fragments & patchworks

Mixing collage, drawing, painting and stitch in my practice allows a great sense of freedom and possibility. If part of a composition isn’t working, then you can simply paint or patch over it. 

I prefer not to pre-plan my work. When painting, I’ll spontaneously make marks and see where that leads. Sometimes it might suggest a particular mood, or I might see the shape of a squirrel’s ear or a fairy’s shoe! 

Folklore, fragments of memories and the stories shared around my nanna and grandad’s big kitchen table often pop up in unexpected ways.  

There is often a ‘patchwork’ quality in the backgrounds. I hope that my work feels richly layered, as though there are parts of the story that haven’t yet been told.

I don’t want to be confined by the rules of perspective. This allows my compositions to evolve and change through the creative process. 

Knowing how forgiving mixed media is makes me more confident in trying out new approaches.

Letitia Thompson, Mixed media artist

Stitching choices

If I’m creating a freestyle, fabric-collaged embroidery, I enjoy using the sewing machine to draw as I love the scribbly, graphic quality of the line.

For my mixed media work on paper, I appreciate the textural quality of hand stitch. A simple running stitch can be useful as a unifying element that pulls a composition together.

I love the slightly haphazard quilted effect that hand stitching can create. I find that it contrasts effectively against the graphic quality of my gel printing. 

Stitching over printed areas can help break up the surface and using different stitch directions can create a subtle layer of surface interest.

When I feel that my work on paper needs more depth, the three-dimensional quality of hand stitching adds another dimension.

Trusting the process

I’m motivated by the challenge of creating something with one’s hands and purely from imagination. It’s a kind of magic.  

I’m also addicted to starting a piece without any idea of the final outcome. It’s always a surprise, and sometimes the results are quite insightful. A few months – or even years – later, I’ll think ‘Ah! That’s what that one was all about!’

I’ve noticed that as soon as I finish a piece of work, I’ll start to wonder whether I can do it again. It’s like a challenge – a bit scary but also exhilarating. 

Creating through play

I grew up in a family where painting, stitching and making were part of everyday life. My parents always encouraged my love of art.

I think that creating art allows me to escape into my own world. It takes me back to being an only child in the 1970s, when a handful of pencils and the back of a cereal packet were my ticket to anywhere in the universe.

I originally studied Fashion & Textiles at St. Martin’s School of Art, London (now Central Saint Martins, University of the Arts London). It was such a culture shock moving from a small northern steel town to the big city. 

What I loved most about my time at St. Martin’s was how we were encouraged to think outside the box. You could be as experimental and playful as you wanted. 

It was obvious very early on that I wasn’t going to design clothes that were actually wearable, but that really didn’t matter. It was no surprise that the garment I made from stitching mini marshmallows into American tan tights never caught on. 

“I love experimenting with unusual materials.”

Letitia Thompson, Mixed media artist

Cultivating curiosity

It’s this attitude of experimentation that I want to bring to Stitch Club. I hope that after taking part, members will feel more confident to just dive in without overthinking and work in a joyful, spontaneous way.

In my workshop, we explore a range of techniques and processes, including painting, printing, collage and designing stencils and masks. 

I find that often I like the piece more if I’ve had to think of a way to rectify a mistake. That’s the most enjoyable part of the whole creative process.

Layering and collaging processes are so forgiving that you can be courageous and curious when creating – if you don’t like it, just cover it up.

Letitia Thompson, Mixed media artist

Overcoming challenges

I taught art for thirty years, including on an Art & Design foundation course. I absolutely loved helping students find their creative voice and preparing them for degree-level study.

When you work as an artist, it’s often your mindset that can be most challenging. I still struggle to say that I’m an artist when asked what I do.

A particular hurdle for me was that I felt as though I should be either a fine artist or a textile artist. This created that hideously stifling feeling of imposter syndrome, which is familiar to so many of us. 

However, over time, I’ve allowed myself the freedom to move between mixed media, textiles and painting. Now, I don’t worry about where my work fits in.

Finding kindred spirits

I work in a small studio at home, and at times I’ve rented a studio space, which allows me to work on larger pieces. Working away from home really helps me. I can live ‘inside my head’ a little too much, so it’s important that I meet like-minded souls and feel that I’m part of a community.

I also enjoy sharing the daft stories that sometimes emerge as I work. I used to feel a bit embarrassed about the characters and narratives, but sharing them has helped to find the people who connect with my work or my process. 

I think making and sharing art is such an important part of life. I love meeting kindred spirits in my painting, mixed media and textiles workshops. 

Digital surprises

Technology and the digital world have become an essential part of my practice. This has really surprised me because I was terrified of it at first. Luckily, I have some very talented and patient friends – including my daughter. 

Now I couldn’t imagine my creative practice without my iPad and my beloved Procreate app. As well as using it to create products for my small business, I enjoy combining scans of my original artwork with digital collage and Procreate layers.

I find the software is very intuitive. I enjoy using the Select tool to cut out particular parts of the scanned artwork and combine them with opaque and transparent digital layers. It mimics the way that I paint, and I can create countless versions from one artwork. I share my process in a YouTube video, Procreate for Traditional Artists: Easy Steps for Digital Art.

A practice for life

One of the most valuable things any creative person can work on is to be mindful and aware of their creative process.

Everyone’s way of working is unique. Learning to understand your own methods for creative problem-solving will help you tackle any future blocks or issues that may arise. This applies to both the practical and mindset aspects of your process.

I think it’s important to understand that this is a lifelong practice which constantly evolves. That’s why being a creative is never boring.

Organza is notoriously tricky: slippery, fraying and hard to control. But Emily has developed a process to overcome those challenges. She’s now sharing her signature techniques, as well as describing her artistic path that includes metals, wood and luxury handbags. 

Emily’s latest projects, celebrating industrial and artisanal makers, are especially exciting. She carries a deep reverence for the act of making and offers her portraits as a tribute to those whose skills often go unnoticed. Each portrait is an act of care that proves the quiet value of human hands at work.

Hard & soft materials

Emily Jo Gibbs: I love fabric and the immediacy of working with textiles. I’ve always enjoyed making things, and I have a real appreciation of colour. 

After a fantastic 3D foundation year at Ravensbourne, I studied Wood, Metal and Plastics at Wolverhampton. I chose the course because I wasn’t ready to specialise. It wasn’t until my final term that I started combining textiles with metal to create fashion accessories. I loved the juxtaposition of the hard and soft materials and the different textures.

A year after graduating, I launched an evening bag business, and it took off quickly. The next 10 years were fast paced, hugely exciting, and at times, glamorous! I sold handbags to stores around the world.

A change of direction

In 2005, I won an award to make a new body of work for a different audience, but I found the change in pace between running a fashion-driven handbag business and establishing myself as a textile artist quite challenging. I also applied to become a member of the 62 Group.

In 2010, I was determined to make work that was personal and creatively rewarding. I embarked on a series of portraits of my family, embroidered with my thoughts, wishes and aspirations. Those intimate studies constructed from layers of silk organza and hand stitch combined to convey a love story. 

The message wasn’t sentimental, but rather a list of instructions that might help a person navigate the contradictory messages parents and community give to children. I’ve always been interested in the contradictory nature of our society, and how we navigate and disseminate the messages that bombard us. 

“The process is what captures me: drawing a line with stitch, repeatedly moving the line and varying the colour or intensity of the mark.”

Emily Jo Gibbs, Textile artist

Capturing personality

I most enjoy thinking about the person I’m stitching whilst I’m stitching them. I really enjoy looking closely and trying to capture their personality. 

I prefer stitching facial expressions that are still because that reflects my slow process. A camera is great at capturing an animated expression, but I’m trying to do something else. 

I pay special attention when stitching the eyes and ears, but the rest is quite minimal. I’m trying to achieve a likeness versus a detailed image.

A likeness can also be reflected in someone’s posture. 

To keep myself from getting lost in the details, I try to stop stitching as soon as possible. A certain amount of stitching is required for the appliqué technique. But once that’s done, I critically evaluate how much more is needed. There is certainly a tipping point where added details start to distract. 

I also don’t like my stitches to crash into each other, so I try to keep everything looking light in touch. Overall, I’d say my approach is ‘less is more’, which also informs my preference for neutral backgrounds.

Drawings, photos & templates

I put a lot of effort into designing my composition and using drawings, photography and photocopying to make to-scale templates for the finished piece. I photocopy the final design several times to use as cutting templates for the organza. 

I cut template-sized pieces of linen and white organza fabrics and fray the edges of each. And I layer and pin the white organza over the template. 

Using a sharp HB pencil, I make small dots, each representing a stitch. I need enough dots to know where to position my pieces. Some areas will have lots of dots while others have very few. I then set the marked organza to one side.

Cutting & stitching

I look carefully at the design to identify coloured areas, as well as what will be fabric-and-stitch and what will just be stitch. 

It can be quite tricky cutting organza into accurate shapes. To prevent slipping, I lay the coloured organza over one of the photocopy templates, pin it, and then cut out the shape through both the paper and organza.  

Once all the pieces are cut, I position them under the white organza layer. I’ll cover some areas with two or three layers of the same colour.

I use the dots to help me see where each piece goes and then pin and tack everything into place. When all the pieces are tacked onto the white organza, I lay the whole lot onto the linen background, and tack around the edge and across the piece to hold everything in place.

Next, I use short and long stab stitches across the whole piece, stitching over the dots and alongside the colour pieces to trap them in place. I change my thread colour often, even for only one or two stitches if I want a particular colour in a certain spot. Finally, when the composition is complete, I remove the tacking stitches.

Organza love  

Organza is a translucent fabric made with coated fibres, so it has a paper-like quality. I only use silk organza, as synthetic organza is more shiny and wriggly. It’s hard to cut accurate shapes from synthetic organza. 

My favourite silk organza is slightly coarse and is usually woven in India. I do, however, enjoy organza manufactured in China with its finer and more closely woven fibres. My two regular suppliers are MacCulloch and Wallis and Pongees. I also recommend Top Fabric, as they sell short 10cm lengths.

I don’t wash the organza before using it, because water removes the finish that creates its paper-like quality. But I do iron it with a dry iron on the cotton setting. Organza can scorch, so I move the iron around quickly. I avoid steam because it can sometimes spit and leave a water mark.

In terms of fraying, it’s easy to intentionally fray edges if the organza is cut along the grain. I can remove one or two threads at a time. And the frayed edges are quite stable. 

It’s trickier to handle smaller pieces, though. They can fray more easily, so my best advice is to handle the smaller cut pieces as little as possible.

I’m excited to be teaching an upcoming Stitch Club workshop where I’m hoping students will be inspired by my simple portrait techniques. I’ll also be helping students explore the possibilities of working with silk organza. It’s surprisingly tough, and I’m hoping they’ll learn to love both its brilliance and versatility.

“I want students to understand that the care and love we put into our making can be conveyed onto the person we are representing.”

Emily Jo Gibbs, Textile Artist

Working in series 

I enjoy working in series, especially when working with specific groups. But I do have to keep in mind time constraints, as well as my access to members of the group. 

For example, for Boat Builders, many of the portraits feature people I met on my first visit to the boatyard. I then asked to meet people in other departments. I was interested in the apprentices, but I also depicted their foreman who had been an apprentice 30 years earlier. I thought that created a richer group and more interesting story.

“I enjoy curating my work in series, because my pieces have a strong visual language when they sit happily together.”

Emily Jo Gibbs, Textile artist 

Must-have tools

I couldn’t do what I do without lovely, sharp scissors to cut nice crisp shapes. I like the 13cm classic micro-tip scissors from Fiskars. I also need a magnifying visor to wear over my reading glasses. Being able to see is crucial for fine work. 

For threads, I use normal sewing thread or a top stitch thread. I like Coats/Mez cotton threads. I also use both polyester and cotton Gütermann threads. 

I have a studio near my home, but this year, I’m enjoying a special place two days a week as artist in residence at Trinity Buoy Wharf. It’s in a tiny wheelhouse that’s about 2m x 2m. It’s now on dry land, and it has windows on all four sides. 

The light is great – sometimes too much, so I put up paper blinds. I trundle my work and supplies to and from the wharf in a wheelie suitcase. It’s in London’s Docklands, about 45 minutes by tube from my house. 

Kids today 

Prior to making my series based on children, I’d only made portraits of my family. But I was struck one day watching my boys playing in the street in front of our house with our neighbours’ kids. It felt like a precious thing, a moment in time. 

They rode their bikes, roller-skated, climbed lamp posts and played make-believe games. It inspired me to create small portraits of people other than my family.

I created a test piece featuring my son Fred and approached the parents, who said yes. Then I asked the kids – a couple of the boys weren’t sure, which was fine. But as the project gathered pace and word went round there was going to be an exhibition, they all got on board. I photographed each of them sitting at my kitchen table, as I liked the idea that they were all different heights. 

I made my son Bill’s portrait last because I was worried about running out of time. He wanted to wear a specific band t-shirt with a complicated design. I made him put on a hoody instead so there was less stitching involved! 

Violet wore a shirt with a skull and cross bones design, and I think she was a bit disappointed I didn’t embroider each of those individually. 

Boat builders  

In 2019, Maria Regan from St. Barbe Museum and Gallery invited me to have a solo show.  After exploring various themes, the idea evolved to base the show around apprentices working at Berthon Boat Yard, a local business in Lymington. 

Maria and I had a brief initial site visit to the boat yard that was very inspiring, so I returned a few weeks later to document a series of apprentices learning the trades of Shipwright, Engineer and Sprayer. I also met with other trades people and the Apprentices’ foremen.

I enjoy finding artisans and people who make things that are somewhat hidden such as in manufacturing.

I think society generally undervalues people who make things. I think it goes back to our whole schooling. From primary school on, children are channelled to pursue academics over making skills. And as we’ve become less of a manufacturing nation in the UK, those making skills are valued even less over time. 

“My work is really about finding makers and saying ‘I see you’.”

Emily Jo Gibbs, Textile artist

Celebrating makers  

I’ve been working on Procession of Makers whilst serving as an artist in residence at Trinity Buoy Wharf. I had proposed creating a body of work to shine a light on the people that work there. I wasn’t entirely sure what form the work would take, but I suggested it take the form of a visual diary based on drawings.

Early on, I drew a group of workmen who were repairing the river wall. I used a concertina sketch book and was inspired by how they seemed to travel across the pages. 

I love how the whole piece has movement, and they are less detailed because they are taken from drawings. It’s also been very different for me in that the whole piece wasn’t designed from the start. Instead, it’s grown as I’ve met and drawn people. 

The final work will be exhibited as a long ribbon. It feels exciting not to constrain the work to fit a frame and stay true to the concertina sketches where it all began.

After graduating, Britta picked up a needle and thread to start translating all she had learned about human connections and societal change. She quickly discovered fabric, thread and print allowed her to tackle life’s big questions in ways a textbook never could.

Britta also committed to working in series. Life doesn’t offer neat conclusions, so why should her portfolio? That’s exactly what makes her textile collections so timely and exciting.

Finding my voice

Britta Ankenbauer: I thought about studying textiles after finishing high school, but I didn’t find the course programmes interesting at that time. They seemed to mostly focus on weaving brown tapestries. I decided to pursue social sciences and earned my MA at the University of Heidelberg.

After graduating, I moved to Switzerland. I found myself still wanting to explore textiles, so I took some art quilting courses with wonderful artists such as Katie Pasquini-Masopust and Ann Johnston.

I entered my very first quilt into a juried national show, and I won first prize. I was totally surprised! I received another prize weeks later, but I knew there was so much I still had to learn. I wanted to go deeper into artistic approaches and the basics such as composition and colour theory. 

I couldn’t go back to fulltime education, as I had two small children. So, I studied textile arts and printmaking through distance learning. It took me over six years to complete my degree at Open College of the Arts, UK. That was such a turning point in my career, and I’m so grateful to the fantastic tutors who really pushed me forward.

“I wanted to take what I had learned and discover my own artistic voice.”

Britta Ankenbauer, Textile artist

A focus on change

I’m a storyteller and I’m interested in human interaction and the idea of change. Having studied social science, my favourite stories are about metamorphosis over time. 

Textiles have tactile and haptic qualities that allow me to bring social issues to life in new ways through layering, construction and deconstruction. 

I’m also interested in capturing people’s forgotten stories, especially those found in abandoned objects and photos. I imagine new stories based on the small amount of information I can identify. 

One of my most treasured photos features an older woman smiling as she holds a big bouquet of flowers. Someone had written ‘For my beloved mum’ on the back. It’s a wonderful example of how love is a timeless social theme. 

“Textiles and print allow me to go beyond the words and facts of a particular social theme.”

Britta Ankenbauer, Textile artist 

Sketchbook playground

Working with sketchbooks is one of the most important parts of my artistic process. 

I view my sketchbooks as ‘playgrounds’. It’s where most of my creativity and artmaking takes place. Not only for drawing and painting, but to also explore materials. 

Sketchbooks help me develop my artwork into special pathways, and they’re also great learning tools for a lot of technical and material issues. 

I’ll be hosting an upcoming Stitch Club workshop in which I’ll be sharing some of my strategies for creating work in series. A key part of that workshop will be helping students understand the value of first sketching their ideas to help push them in multiple directions. 

They’ll make several small pieces and consider ideas or themes that help the works connect, or not. Sometimes a work may be singular and not ripe for a full series. 

Slow making

Working is a slow process for me. At the beginning, I don’t know exactly where a piece will end. I just start with raw materials and let the issues, projects and ideas I have in mind emerge through experimentation.  

For me, being an expressive artist and living an artist’s life means dealing with a lot of soulful and authentic emotions. I not only explore positive feelings such as excitement, passion and joy, but I also delve into life’s challenges and failures.

Dealing with challenging emotions is a necessity to create art, as it allows an artist to express the truth of their vision.

Technical skills alone can never bring one into the world of art. Crafting is the technical aspect, but using one’s passion, visions and imagination is what leads to authentic art. 

“Authentic art is the type of art that shows the artist’s voice, no matter what techniques or materials are used.”

Britta Ankenbauer, Textile artist

Stitching in series

Working in series, versus a singular work, allows me to explore many possibilities. As I collect questions about my subject along the way, I’m pushed in directions I wouldn’t have thought about beforehand. 

That’s why I enjoy working in series. My ideas are always complex, and I often have more than one notion in my head. 

Revisiting a theme multiple times allows me to respond to what I discover along the way. And over the years, the series grows into a full body of work.

Creating a collection also allows me to experiment with different approaches and materials. Each work is unique, but there’s still a connection with the others. It’s much like siblings in a family: there are similarities in terms of colour choices and sizes, but they all have their own personalities. 

“I love being astonished and surprised by my materials.”

Britta Ankenbauer, Textile artist

Multimedia mashups

I enjoy working with a variety of materials that fit the story or themes I want to express. For example, if I’m wanting to explore the ideas of ‘connections,’ weaving is a wonderful technique as it connects materials with threads.

It’s been a long, but interesting, process figuring out how to combine traditional fine art techniques with textiles. I worked hard to break away from traditional use of some techniques, and I was also challenged in adapting materials for textiles. 

How does the paint behave on fabrics and threads? How do the different materials meet at the borders? Are transitions seamless or do I emphasise contrasts?

I’m a big fan of sampling. And as soon as I recognise I’m getting stuck in the details or I am simply confused, I’ll set the work aside and come back to it later. My ‘reflection’ stage finds me making notes, asking questions, or making small drawings in my sketchbook. 

Editing my work can be challenging, as I love abundance and deep thinking. I compare my editing process to composing music: there is a main theme that’s complemented by quiet or loud areas. Composition is about balancing all the elements related to rhythm and visual weight. 

“I try to find answers through making.”

Britta Ankenbauer, Textile artist

Mark making 

I love working with synthetic dyes like Procion MX and acrylics. I use acid or natural dyes for wool. I’ve also explored combining watercolours with natural dyes. Tea, coffee and other pigmented natural solutions can also be very interesting.

I enjoy the unexpected and accidental approach of dyeing and the details that appear after ironing. Small differences in tone can show vibrancy and subtlety. 

In terms of printing, I view print marks as ‘traces’ and ‘echoes’ of objects or actions (think of the marks left on a towel after cleaning your hands). Every mark will be unique, as it depends on the printer’s use of their inks, tools and surfaces.

I use a wide variety of materials to print, including old carved items, wood, stones and grass. I also work with stencils, woodcuts, lino and silkscreens. 

“After years of practice, I’m mostly able to achieve the colours I want, but accidents are still fun.”

Britta Ankenbauer, Textile artist

Digital imagery

Some of my historical images come from flea markets, but all other photos I take myself. Going on a ‘photo safari’ is an important part of my process. Some images are about textures, others about nature. I enjoy the dialogue between digital and handmade. 

I use a variety of photo transfer techniques, and there are photo transfer mediums and processes that make it fairly easy. I often print images on my home computer and use gel medium to transfer them to fabric. 

Layers & contrast

My sewing machine is my drawing tool, and I use it daily. For me, machine stitching is a slow process because I use very dense stitching and layering. 

I also include hand stitching to create an interesting contrast to the machine stitching. I use easy linear and filling stitches, as well as french knots. Placing random stitches is like drawing or mark making.

Both machine and hand stitch are introduced across the creative process. Stitching in the beginning or middle stages mostly helps define contours or create contrast. And because I love having thread colours visible in the final work, I’ll often stitch a very intense layer at the end of the process. 

“Threaded textures are what make my art so vibrant and different from painting.”

Britta Ankenbauer, Textile artist

Lockdown art 

I received a grant during the Covid lockdown for a special project. I asked women to send me photos they took during the lockdown, and I received hundreds of images. It was overwhelming, and I didn’t know how to react artistically.

I decided to categorise the photos into five categories, one of which was nature and landscapes. I abstracted nature as a ‘manteau’, which is the French word for ‘coat’. I sought to create a coat that protected and cared for people. 

I dyed the fabrics and assembled them into a rectangular piece. But then I decided to cut the work into more of a landscape shape, like one was looking down from above or viewing a contour map. I used both weaving and quilting. The weaving materials were cozy dyed fibres and I added tiny hand stitching in spots.  

Capturing childhood 

I created a six-part series about childhood in history and how we view it today. I don’t know who any of the children are, as I found the images at a flea market. I’m guessing photos were taken in the late 1800’s.

For Roles, I was touched by the children’s positioning, how arms are around shoulders and two are holding hands. My guess is it’s a family photo, and the children likely lived in the countryside. 

Because childhood was so much shorter in those days, I imagined the roles they might have taken as adults. The oldest girl on the left likely got married and lived on another farm, while the boy in the middle probably went to war. Perhaps the smallest girl became a princess.

Ongoing creation 

Years ago, I was making a lot of work that was very expressive and experimental. When the pandemic hit, I pursued similar experiments in series like Nest, that captured the feeling of being locked down, and Cocoon, that reflected the feeling of insecurity following the lockdown. 

These works collectively grew into my Inner Landscape Project that I’m still creating today. 

Although the collection features art made in many different styles, they are related by a red thread of working with the invisible worlds. 

Inner Landscapes focuses on what is inside and hidden. Not only emotions, but also dreams, experiences, history and time. It’s a huge term, and I’m happy to have found it. Every piece I make is now related to that concept. 

I’m planning a solo exhibition of my results in 2027. It will be interesting to see if I make more expressive and wild work or if I go more in the direction of my boxes with digital prints. 

“In my eyes, a series can always continue and grow.”

Britta Ankenbauer, Textile artist 

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

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

Apron strings

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

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

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

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

Textile artist inspiration

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

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

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

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

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

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

April Sproule, Textile artist

Freestyle stitching

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

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

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

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

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

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

April Sproule, Textile artist

Natural inspirations

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

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

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

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

April Sproule, Textile artist

Creative sketches

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

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

Introducing colour

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

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

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

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

April Sproule, Textile artist

Figuring things out

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

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

Mixing things up

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

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

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

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

Favourite fabrics

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

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

Threads & stitches

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

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

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

April Sproule, Textile artist

A few basic tools

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

April Sproule, Textile artist

Silver linings

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

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

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

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

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

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

Designing my creative space

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Seductive transformation

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

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

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

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

A series of stories

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

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

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

Fashion design foundations

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

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

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

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

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

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

Adrian Smith, Textile artist

Fabrics unleashed

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

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

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

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

Courageous colours

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

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

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

Uplifting beauty

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

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

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

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

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

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

Swirling waves & quilling

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

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

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

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

Testing my patience

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sharing my techniques

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

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

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

Adrian Smith

Thoughts on social media

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Surreal narratives

How would you describe your work?

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

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

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

Recurring themes

Tell us about the stories behind your work…

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

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

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

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

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

Evolving ideas

Would you share a little about your process?

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

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

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

Sketchbooks & samplers

How do you plan your work?

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

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

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

Sue Stone, Textile artist

Search out the unexpected

What inspires your work?

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

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

A life story in portraits 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sue Stone, Textile artist

Art & family

Who were your early influences?

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

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

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

Embroidery as art

What was your route to becoming an artist?

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

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

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

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

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

Telling textured stories

How has your work evolved over time? 

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

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

Which direction would you like to explore in the future? 

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

Nothing is impossible

What advice would you give to an aspiring textile artist?

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

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

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

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

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

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

A map of London

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

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

Discovering textile techniques

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

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

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

Places, maps & journeys

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wendy Dolan, Textile artist

Inked textures

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

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

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

Tools of the trade

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

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

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

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

Adding dimension

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

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

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

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

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

Fabric choices

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

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

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

Mark making threads

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

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

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

London on the map

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

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

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

Across the Downs

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

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

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

Royal Pavilion

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

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

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

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

Stitch club workshop

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Cultivating possibilities

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

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

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

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

Rachna Garodia, weaver and textile artist

Explorations on the loom

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

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

No rules weaving

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

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

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

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

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

Rachna Garodia, weaver and textile artist

Working process 

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

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

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

Perfecting my craft

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

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

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

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

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

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

From shuttle to needle

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

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

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

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

Rachna Garodia, weaver and textile artist

Creative collectives

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

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

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