Following the Fold

I think I’ve fallen down another creative rabbit hole.

I missed writing last week.

Sometimes life asks us to slow down, and last weekend I simply didn’t have the energy to gather my thoughts into a blog post. But while the words weren’t coming, the stitching certainly was.

These concertina – or accordion – books have become a bit of an obsession.

Not the kind of obsession that feels overwhelming, but the wonderful kind that keeps asking, What if…? What if the covers were made differently? What if the pages unfolded in another way? What if opening the book became part of the story?

Each book seems to answer one question while immediately asking another.

The first book I finished is a tiny concertina housed inside an old Players Cigarette tin. For this little treasure I reached into my collection of what are now, I suppose, vintage French Provençal fabrics. They have been quietly waiting for the right project, and this book turned out to be exactly that. There is very little embellishment – just a touch of hand stitching – because I wanted the fabrics themselves to take centre stage.

As I worked, another idea began to form.

From that trip to France in 2002, I brought twenty-eight different Provençal fabrics, and I thought it might be fun to put together a few small fabric packs for those of you who would enjoy making your own concertina book – or perhaps using the fabrics in an entirely different project. Sometimes the greatest pleasure comes from working with beautiful materials that already carry a story of their own. Is that something you might enjoy? I’d love to know.

No sooner had I finished that little book of Provence than another one began.

This time I wanted to create something inspired by one of my visits to France, when I stayed with my dear friend Claire. Looking through old photographs, I found an image that immediately brought back happy memories: the sign outside Le Rouvray, a quilt shop not far from Notre Dame Cathedral that sadly no longer exists.

It was one of those shops that welcomed you to linger. Browsing wasn’t hurried; conversations happened naturally, and inspiration seemed to be tucked into every corner. I always smiled at the sign that read, “Even if you don’t speak French, we speak Patchwork.” It perfectly captured the warmth of the place, where a shared love of quilts was enough to bridge any language.

To accompany those memories, I pulled out a small collection of toile de Jouy fabrics that I had gathered over many years – and then completely forgotten about until I stumbled across them while searching for something else. Isn’t that often the way? The very thing you need appears when you’re looking for something entirely different.

I combined those treasured pieces with a few current French General fabrics, a few images transferred here and there, and added hand stitching using Wonderfil’s 12-weight Spagetti thread. The result feels quite different from the little book in the tin.

I’m still experimenting.

Every book teaches me something new about construction, about storytelling, and about the quiet pleasure of making. Some ideas work beautifully, others simply point me toward the next possibility. Either way, I find myself eager to begin the next one before the current one is even finished.

The interesting thing is that I don’t think I am anywhere near finished exploring these little folded books. Each one seems to lead me toward another idea, another structure, another possibility. Perhaps that is the joy of being a maker. We never really climb out of the rabbit hole. We simply bring a flashlight, more fabric, and keep exploring.

Thanks for reading. Until I write again, stay cool.

Ana