The Rhythm of Needle and Thread

Last year I began a new textile book. I wanted to try a new-to-me way of binding, following Anne Wood, but instead it became one of those projects that demanded patience, pauses, problem-solving, and more than a little stubbornness.

There were starts and stops along the way, experiments that worked beautifully and others that definitely did not. At one point I had to redo eight pages after an unsuccessful attempt to sew the book together – you can read more about it below.

I also spent a great deal of time thinking about how the book itself should be assembled. I considered several different binding methods before finally returning to one I had used before — one I knew worked well and, most importantly, one I felt comfortable with. Even then, the process was not without challenges. A needle or two was sacrificed along the way, but with patience, a bit of effort, and a great deal of love, the book finally came together.

Now my new textile circle book is finally finished. And I did it my way (all of a sudden I can hear Frank Sinatra singing …).

Hand stitching has slowly become a nightly ritual for me – a quiet time at the end of the day that I genuinely miss when life gets too busy and I cannot stitch. There is something deeply calming about slowing down and settling into the rhythm of needle and thread passing through the linen fabric I chose as the foundation for this work. Stitch after stitch, the process becomes almost meditative.

And yet, despite the fact that I stitch almost every evening, I still somehow forget how long hand stitching truly takes. Some of the designs in this book required hours to complete. Progress happens slowly, one stitch at a time, often at the end of long days filled with many other responsibilities and activities. Little by little, night after night, the pages evolved beneath my hands.

This book became an exploration of circles in many forms. I found myself returning again and again to simple hand stitches — mostly running stitch, blanket stitch, feather stitch, satin stitch, and colonial knots — discovering different ways they could suggest movement, texture, and circular forms across the pages. Some areas are densely stitched while others are quieter, allowing the texture of the linen and the simplicity of the marks to speak for themselves.

Below is a view of the page spreads – in order.

I wanted to create a cover for the book – with a sort of title – so I planned, drew and stitched. And in the end … I decided I did not like it for the cover. But, I was still able to use it as the inside of the back cover, where it belongs.

This is the back cover, that holds one of the original pages that were stitched in (for me) too small a piece of fabric. So I appliquéd it to a piece of linen and it became the back cover.

After all the trials and tribulations, this little book now holds not only fabric and thread, but also many evenings of slow stitching, problem-solving, meditation, talks with myself and quiet moments along the way. And for now, I am simply happy to finally hold it in my hands.

Thanks for reading, Until I write again,

Ana

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