I was talking with a friend recently and happened to mention I was working on a slow stitching project.
“What is slow stitching? Do you stitch in slow motion?” she asked.
I could have suggested she type her question into the internet. But I wanted to explain to her what it means to me, and I thought you may also be curious.
Let’s start by considering an embroidery kit. You see a pretty picture on the cover, showing the exact result you aim to achieve. It's like a goal to work towards, a vision of what YOUR finished project will look like. You want to create an exact replica of that image, as perfectly as possible.
But what if you started a project with no idea of how it would turn out? Its an intriguing prospect, isn’t it?
Like reading a “whodunit” novel, where the pleasure lies in unraveling the unknown and being continually surprised. If we could see the ending from the very beginning, would it even hold our attention? The element of mystery keeps us engaged, eagerly turning the pages to discover the truth.
This sense of intriguing uncertainty also adds excitement to my creative endeavours.
I think of slow stitching as a meditative embroidery journey without a final destination in mind. Instead of focusing on the outcome, I immerse yourself in the process, allowing the design to emerge spontaneously.
The excitement of not knowing what lies ahead keeps me on the edge of my seat. I'm fully present, every sense heightened. What colour to use next? Which stitch will bring it to life? Which type of thread is calling me?
The decisions are endless, yet each one is an opportunity to create something truly unique. No boundaries.
I can opt for a simple running stitch or take on a more complex one if it adds something special to my work.
Slow stitching is a relatively modern embroidery technique with roots in traditional needlework practices from around the globe.
If you've ever been to Japan, you might have come across the traditional Sashiko stitch, which originated as a practical solution to reinforce and repair worn-out garments. Over time, these running stitches evolved into intricate and repetitive patterns, creating a beauty that's hard to ignore. The Japanese have a name for these lovingly mended textiles: Boro.
Stitching fabrics together in this way isn’t just about practicality; its an art form. I like to think of it as a way of creating a canvas which I then decorate with my embroidery stitches.
Preparing that canvas is relaxing and just as much a part of the process as the fancy stitching. There is no need to plan ahead, draw a design or worry about making mistakes.
Unlike other embroidery techniques that require specific fabrics, with slow stitching anything goes. Repurposed clothing can sit next to newly purchased material. Cotton, linen, wool, hand dyed, I get to pick.
How a cloth feels is important to me, after all I am going to be holding the project in my hands as I work. Soft, smooth, bumpy, they all have their place. Some scraps might hold emotional memories, other may just attract my eye.
The backing fabric is often plain and light-colored, acting as a subtle base that won't distract from the scraps I will add on top.
I might roughly plan how to join my creations together later, and in those cases, I ensure the backing fabric is cut to the same size for each piece. But even then, my planning goes no further.
I tip out my fabrics onto the table then reach out and touch the different textures, letting my hands wander freely, pulling out a few choice pieces that speak to me. I let intuition guide me, laying pieces beside others until a pleasing arrangement emerges. I may move them about, rip some into smaller pieces, swap some out for others until I am happy.
To secure them in place I use long loose tacking stitches where more thread is on the back than the front of the work. Some slow stitchers use spray on adhesive or glue sticks to temporarily secure their fabric pieces.
I recorded a video of how I created a slow stitched project. Below is the end result of the front cover shown in the video.
Here again I don’t have a plan. Sometimes the fabric print will suggest a starting point. I might outline a flower or add an extra one in a gap. I might echo a shape, or use the stripes in a printed pattern to create straight(ish) lines of stitches.
I don’t worry about the stitches being equidistant or as straight as can be. This is hand embroidery and as such, imperfections are inevitable, even desired.
Each line or motif will suggest the next element to add and the piece will evolve organically, like a conversation between me and the fabric. The accidental placement of two fabrics might spark a new idea, leading me down a path I hadn't anticipated. I might decide a spot of colour would look good in a certain place or to neutralise an unwanted spot in the printed pattern by stitching over it.
I might suddenly decide the project is finished, that it works as a whole and leave it as it is, or feel the need to add just more elements to complete the story. I let the piece tell me when its time to stop and move on.
The end result is a tangible expression of my creative exploration. It doesn’t matter what anyone else viewing it thinks. My purpose was to enjoy creating it, and if I end up with something beautiful then that is a bonus.
I might decide to put it to use by making it into a bag, a pincushion, a journal page or a wall hanging. Or I may just leave it as it is and caress it when I feel the desire to do so. There is no requirement for it to have any practical application when finished.
The benefits have already been achieved during its creation.
I enjoyed the mindfulness of the repetitive stitching, the relaxation it brought, and the joy of creating something unique and personal.
Using recycled materials gives me a satisfying sense of sustainability and waste reduction. It's a wonderful feeling to know that I'm doing my part to help the environment and future generations.
But the true magic happens when others join in. Grab your old clothes and embroidery threads, and let's stitch the world into a better place. Will you join this textile revolution, where creativity meets sustainability? You too can enjoy the calm and watch a greener world emerge, one stitch at a time.