Written by Bridget White and Edited by Susie Pietrzykowski
At the Permaculture Festival of Workshops gathering, I was fortunate to be asked to give a talk on fabrics, stitching, and mending. For many years, I have saved tiny scraps of fabric that others may find less than useful. In my crafting practice, I often turn to ancient craft traditions from the cultures of Japan, Africa, and India, seeking methods for finding uses for these scraps.
Over my travels, I came across the Japanese traditions of boro (tatted rags) and sashiko (a stitching technique to mend, reinforce and embellish). Visiting the museums across the Hokkaido region, I saw coats from farming communities that were over 1,000 years old. Many layers of fabric had been patched onto the original garment to preserve old items for economic necessity and to provide warmth for the snowy climate of Northern Japan. These garments displayed a variety of stitch patterns. I found that each stitch pattern was significant to the community, and usually had a relationship to nature. For example, hanazashi (overlapping flowers), uroko (fish scales) and seigaiha (waves) for example. Through the COVID-19 lockdowns, some people may have baked sourdough or planted gardens. I was carried away with my sashiko stitching, resulting in 17 cushion covers, numerous tablecloths and wall hangings.
A row of five decorative cushions arranged on a light blue fabric sofa. The cushions feature intricate Sashiko-style embroidery with geometric and floral patterns in various colors on light blue and dark fabric panels.
A handmade drawstring bag lies flat on a tan tiled floor. The bag is crafted from a vibrant patchwork of various patterned fabrics in shades of blue, green, yellow, and red, featuring visible white running-stitch embroidery throughout and a thick white rope drawstring.
My next cultural craft journey had me learning about migration. I found that soldiers, sailors, and former enslaved people migrated from Africa to India, and once in India, this diaspora was known as the Siddis people. They brought with them a method of using worn-out fabrics to make kwandi, which we recognise as quilts. In this method, pieces of fabric are added from the outside to the inside in a clockwise formation to a backing piece. In the centre, there is a patch that traditionally holds a few grains of rice; it symbolises the wish that the users of the quilt will always have a full stomach. On the four corners, phula are added to represent flowers. I have tried this style by machine and with hand stitching — my preference, however, is slow hand-stitching. I have made kwandi bags, placemats, and a table runner.
A rectangular patchwork tote bag with two dark fabric handles, shown lying flat on a tiled floor. The bag is made from diverse fabric scraps, including florals, polka dots, and stripes, with two red fabric accents tied to the top corners.
Most recently, I decided to recycle an old scarf that had several stains and pulled threads. I used the Kwandi method and many kilometres of hand stitching thread, and finally concluded last evening. I am now ready to add a backing, and I’ve created a shawl that I am really proud of, and will wear longer than if not modified. I also have a skirt already pinned together on an old circular linen tablecloth to make in Kwandi style.
A woman with blonde hair and glasses stands smiling, holding a colorful embroidered textile. She is positioned next to a table covered in a dark blue embroidered cloth, which holds a green ceramic tea set including a teapot and four small cups. Various framed artworks and a colorful circular textile piece are visible in the background.
The whole purpose of my working with fabric scraps is to “make do and mend”, a saying I grew up with. I am fortunate enough to enjoy mending. I displayed a pair of socks that were discarded 10 years ago by a family member. I have embraced these socks and have successfully darned them many, many times, outliving their original life span. I have several jumpers that have been scorched by a spark from a campfire. Each of these items has been slow-stitched with wool to create a decorative patch. Now these jumpers are not only mended, but beautified and continue to be worn.
I spoke with someone at the Festival of Workshops. They had a well-loved pair of jeans that had torn, and a top with a seam in need of repair. In only 15 minutes, both items were mended — the holes vanished seamlessly. That encounter was a reminder to me, and now you, reading this, that each stitch supports our ethics of Permaculture. Taking care of our textiles is important, to continue being not only stewards of nature, but also as permaculturalists. We must take Care of the Earth, which leads to us taking Care of People; is that not a Fair Share for our fellow humans? After all, that is what connects us with the ancient cultures that I have learned about. We all make our items, despite the times and technologies that have come to pass.