One Book Ends, Another Begins

There is something deeply satisfying about placing the final stitch in a project that has lived in your hands and thoughts for weeks.

This week, I finished my Japan concertina book, and I couldn’t be happier with how it turned out. It became exactly what I had hoped it would be: twelve stitched pages, nestled between hand-stitched covers, each page made from different Japanese fabrics. Shades of blue flow from one page to the next, interrupted only occasionally by small touches of red silk and a few red stitches that quietly catch the eye.

It is a gentle book. One that invites you to slow down, turn the pages carefully, and notice the details.

As I worked on it, I found myself thinking about the fabrics themselves. Every piece has its own history before it ever reached my studio. I don’t know who collected them, where they travelled, or what they were originally meant to become. Now they have found a new life stitched together into something that tells a different story.

That has become one of my favourite parts of making these books. They are not simply collections of fabric and thread. They are places where memories, materials, and time come together.

Of course, finishing one book rarely means taking a break.

Almost before I tied the final knot, I found myself looking ahead to the next one.

Waiting patiently on my shelves is the collection of fabrics I bought in Provence twenty-four years ago. I have carefully kept them all this time, always thinking that one day they would become something special. I think that day has finally arrived.

At the moment, I am leaning toward a palette of warm yellows, perhaps with touches of red and blue, although experience has taught me that the materials often have their own ideas. The first step will simply be choosing a piece of vintage linen for the foundation and seeing where it leads.

That is one of the joys of working this way. I usually begin with a loose idea rather than a fixed plan. The fabrics suggest possibilities, the stitching slows me down, and little by little the book reveals itself.

By the time you are reading this, the World Cup Final will have been played. As I write these words, though, the match is still ahead of me, and I know exactly where I’ll be, cheering for Argentina with more enthusiasm than composure. If you’ve followed my blog for a while, you’ll know that stitching and football have become an unlikely but rather perfect combination in my studio in the last few weeks. At least while the World Cup was playing.

Thanks for reading. Until I write again, I’m off to find a base fabric for the Provence book.

Ana

It’s OK to Just Stitch and Rest