Why Do We Embroider Anyway?

This week an Australian mate posted a pointed question on a needlework forum:  ‘Why do we embroider, anyway?”  

This very question plagues me too, frequently in the middle of some stitching project that is going “terribly wrong” as I rip threads while hoping the silk beneath remains unscathed. 

The facile response is there are as many reasons to embroider as embroiderers. But I don’t do easy. So let me give the answer a go. It’s a different one than I might have given at another, more fraught stage of life, when I had less free time. 

I embroider because I must potter, preferably at something with a result.  I am a “do-er.” To my mind, the antipodes of “do-ers” are “be-ers.” These are individuals who can read quietly, contemplate, visit exhibitions, or just go shopping. There is nothing preferable to either type; they are just different.

Harold Knight Painting

Embroidery suits my temperament and living arrangements.  Abstract “do-ers” -- programmers, writers, composers -- produce intangibles.  Being a physical “do-er”, as I am, comes at the cost of manufacturing “stuff.  Beyond the price of materials, there is the amount of work space and mess that projects entail. In all three respects –materials, mess, and space--embroidery is a productive activity that does not have to be expensive.

Embroidery projects, like work, can expand to fill the time, physical space and budget available.  But actually, a piece of cloth, a needle, and a couple of hanks of floss are really all you need. The complete ranges of DMC or Anchor threads can set you back a bit, but I collect them slowly, project by project. And threads, unlike paints, will last years without spoiling or drying out. As for space, you don’t need much. Most embroidery paraphernalia fits in a box, if needs must. And there is no toxic, permanent mess to deal with. Have you ever seen a painter’s studio floor?  Of course, there can be untidiness with embroidery, too. But an impending visit from your mother-in-law and a vacuum cleaner clears that up in a jiffy. And let’s be modern and recall that hand-embroidery -- note the qualification -- is ecologically responsible. You just use body energy, not electric mains. Thus you exercise and lose weight while you work, or so I tell myself. 

The Embroiderer by Jean-Baptiste Chardin

Inevitably, physical “do-ers” must confront the issue of what to do with the product of their 

labour.  Completed projects can add clutter to lives (or kilos to our frames, in the case of baking, another “do-er” activity I practice). Sure, one can try hawking product. A neighbor, who makes jewelry, warned me years ago this awaits “do-ers”. This is not something I aspire to. Yes, I know about Etsy and Ebay. But blogging and social networking are quite enough technology to contend with at the moment, thank you very much!

Our town hospital offers its long halls as temporary galleries for local painters.  I marvel at the canvases on display.  They are big and many. Given their datings, the productivity of these artists is high, like their price tags. If pieces don’t sell – and few do-- where does an artist store them? In a house that is already filled with life’s acquisitions? In a lock up or shed?  My embroideries fit into a single drawer or a folder, if I don’t choose to the frame them. At some point someone will chuck them, even if I can’t bring myself to do that.

So I am brave and give some of my production away, hoping my embroideries will be appreciated.  Some are. But you can’t count on that anymore than you can count on meeting of the minds or confluence of tastes across generations. Many “gifts” vanish once handed over. It’s in one door out the other. Better to accept that. The only person sure to like my work is me.

So as an embroidering “do-er”, I strive not to have a huge production capacity. On purpose, I pick embroidery projects that take a long time. Portraits created in single strands of thread need upwards of six months to complete. That’s keeps me occupied and struggling with colors and light effects, satisfying my inquisitive nature.  I confess to getting sidetracked by short projects with a fancy stitch or a enticing color combination. Or I may digress to knitting for new arrivals. These projects are for evenings in front of the TV when I can multi-task. Portraits require my undivided attention.

So why do I concentrate on human portraits? Well, beyond being an activity that engages my brain and consumes my time, portraiture is about connection, primarily me to my subject.  Perhaps my portraits in thread will resonate withsome family member not yet born. I will never know. But it doesn’t matter. I just keep stitching because that’s what I, the “do-er”, do and will keep doing as long as my eyes and my fingers allow. So what’s your story?