amybethdesign

I roll the needle between my thumb and index finger. It’s cool to the touch and threaded with aqua colored embroidery floss. I poke the needle down, waiting to hear that pop that only a needle through taut fabric can make. I pull it through . . . pop! And repeat again from the back. Then repeat, repeat, repeat. It’s rhythmic, it’s therapeutic, it’s incredible the way each tiny stitch comes together to create something beautiful. I’m stitching a hand embroidery journal this year. Adding tiny icons and words each day to capture my life in thread. This is my haven, my peaceful place, my wind-down, just for me time. I release a deep breath, sit back in my chair and admire the hoops that hang on my embroidery desk. None of them are perfect, but all of them are beautiful, and each is significant to me.

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It was 2020. I just moved to a new state, the world shut down, and I was in the trenches of postpartum and young motherhood. I needed something just for me. Something I could pick up during nap time and put down when little hands needed me. A creative outlet that would fuel the part of my soul that needs to make things. An art form that would eventually push me (without me even realizing it) to face the perfectionism that had somehow seeped its slimy roots into every part of my life. 

I found an old hoop and some thread I had inherited from my grandma. I learned to embroider as a child in my 4-H club and I knew I could pick up the skill again. I scoured the internet, found a simple flower pattern and got to work. It was thrilling to see the pattern come together stitch by stitch. It may seem small and insignificant, but when I finished that project, backed the hoop and hung it in my daughter’s room, I felt an enormous sense of accomplishment. I made something. Finished it. And it was beautiful, not perfect but still beautiful. In my world of feeding tiny humans, folding endless laundry, singing lengthy lullabies, and washing dishes over and over, it felt amazing to complete something that was just for me. 

I quickly became obsessed. Buying packs of embroidery floss and hoops off amazon, stitching pattern after pattern, creating my own patterns, stitching on clothes, making gifts, creating hoops for every holiday, and learning new stitches and techniques. I started sharing my work and receiving requests from friends and family for custom hoops. A spark was lit, embroidery was so much fun for me and I couldn’t stop making things! Each completed hoop gave me a tangible sense of accomplishment, a pride in my abilities and fueled the need to create that lies at the core of who I am. 

I began to challenge myself more and more and my need for perfection surged. I was stitching complex patterns way above my experience level, trying to fulfill custom orders and not able to get things just right. I unpicked stitches, started over and unpicked more. I grew frustrated with myself realizing the perfectionism that followed me all my life, had worked its way into this too. 

So, I took a break. I challenged myself to stitch again just for me. I shifted my focus to accepting and embracing the inevitable imperfection in all human-made things. I practiced honoring the tedious and therapeutic process of creating something stitch by stitch and purposefully sought to find beauty in the imperfections. I found myself practicing compassion towards myself as an artist, a human, and a mother. I created simple patterns with messages from the things I was learning and hung them up just for me. The process was healing. Not only had embroidery lit a spark in me and given me a creative outlet I desperately needed, but it gently pushed me to face a lifelong battle with perfectionism stitch by stitch, and day by day. 

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I came across an embroidery artist that stitched house portraits. They were stunning and I knew I had to make one for my mom for her birthday. The process was a lot more challenging than I anticipated. I practiced my new skills of self-compassion and tolerance and was very proud of how the project turned out. My mom loved the gift. She thanked me with tears in her eyes and didn’t even care about the hole in one part of the fabric behind the windows that I could not fix. She only saw the beauty and the work her and my dad did to build our home, the memories it held and what the house means to our family. I learned so much creating that first house portrait. 

Since then I’ve stitched 12 additional houses. Each portrait has felt so important. I’ve had the privilege of stitching houses for the children and grandchildren of people who have passed away, preserving family homes and generations of memories. I created a portrait of a home that had been their family’s haven for 30 years. When the surrounding land was sold to developers the family was pushed out of their home and forced to leave it behind. Their sadness was tangible and knowing my art immortalized their home in a way they can keep forever fills me with so much gratitude for this hobby that I picked up out of desperation on a random weekday. 

Embroidery House Portrait Gallery

I’ve been able to capture young families’ first homes, and their dream homes. Family homes that built children into who they are and homes that have been anchors for people throughout their challenging lives. I feel so honored to stitch meaningful art that creates nostalgia and stirs happy memories. Our homes become part of who we are. We sink our roots deep into them, we nest, create and live out our stories in them. They become such an integrated part of us, and not only our own houses but houses of the people we love. 

Each portrait has challenged me in new ways and taught me new things. I’ve unpicked more bricks than I care to admit. But I haven’t unpicked and started houses over from a place of frustration and toxic perfectionism. It’s from a place of acceptance that nothing is perfect, that things take time, masterpieces are made stitch by stitch, and character is built through small steps every day. It’s from a place of self-compassion and love and a desire to capture the essence of these homes that mean so much to the people who live in them. 

What I thought was just a simple easy way for me to express my creative energy as a young mom has become one of the biggest blessings in my life. 

Interested in learning how to embroider? Start here:  DMC Embroidery Guide

DMC YouTube Tutorial of Basic Stitches

My favorite hoops: Shop