Stitching Paper

Stitching layers of paper circles together - you can see the pricked holes on the outside layer.

There is something a bit subversive about stitching paper (or plastic or anything non textile related). Yet the act of stitching, like knitting or crocheting is not only meditative but also for me, healing.

This week I have been excited to be in the studio finally. Over the past weeks lying on the bed, I had planned out what I wanted to make; stitched paper doilies using cyanotype prints. First I needed to make more prints so I mixed up a new batch of cyanotype solution and tried out some little garden flowers on paper squares.

I quite liked the effect so I brought out some handmade cotton paper and tried that out too. Handmade paper, especially cotton rag paper is super absorbent, it soaks up the solution. You really need to ‘size’ it with gelatine or similar sizing product in order to provide a smooth, less absorbent surface.

However I was on a roll and got excited by what I had made which was not exactly perfect but it would be good collaged. I brought out some more cotton paper circles and started layering the cyanotype printed papers with plain white papers which could all be stitched together.

Stitching is a direct body connection to my mother and my childhood activities. I learnt to embroider onto felt and made needle cases, but was too impatient to master the intricacies of perfect embroidered stitches, or undertaking any sort of hand stitching.

My first experience stitching paper was creating 10 x 10 cm daily collages using machine zig zag stitch. Fast and furious! I loved the bold black lines which became part of the collage stories. It was liberating not stitching ‘useful’ items like clothing or household items. It was a ‘mending’ type stitch and yet the torn pieces were paper, not clothes.

When I started stitching handmade paper, the sewing machine was too harsh, the paper tore and I felt that I needed to have more of an intimate contact with my materials, especially banana paper which felt like skin. My stitches were what I call ‘walking’ stitch as opposed to running stitch because it was a slow and laborious process.

Then when my studio flooded and I wondered what to do with all the mud stained papers, I started stitching them together by hand. These were more like sutures, stitching the wounds made by catastrophic climate events. Each stitch an act of healing, stitching papers and their stories to create a narrative of resilience and hope.

When I went into my studio this week I spent several hours over a couple of days happily stitching in my studio. As I worked I connected back to those healing properties of stitching, especially as I felt myself returning to my creative practice after so long away post surgery.

All the tools of trade came out, my beautiful material scissors, the quick snips, my awl, felt needle case and bag of embroidery threads. I brought out my awl and pricked where the holes for stitching were to go, two layers at a time so the back only shows the last layer of stitches. Then I threaded the needle and begun…

Cyanotype prints washing in a tray .

All the washed papers drying flat under glass.