New Embroidery Group

As a young child in the Black Country in the late 30s I was taught by my mother to sew, embroider and knit.  I embroidered bought traced tray cloths, mainly floral motifs for presents, mostly satin stitch, stem, or lazy daisy.  I was also fascinated by crinoline ladies and samplers.  Then came the war and all changed.  At primary school we learnt to make aprons from grown-out-of summer dresses among other things.  At home it was make do and mend, sheets side to middle, clothes restyled, socks darned, wool garments unwound and reknitted into garments for a new use.  Mother’s friend, wife of a funeral parlour owner, used to give us pieces of silk remnants from coffin linings.  Other people were able to use parachute silk.  My grandmother knitted thick oiled wool socks for seamen, which was very hard on her hands.  My mother did voluntary work for the Red Cross sewing pyjamas for injured soldiers.

We all helped in the large garden, and in my grandmother’s garden too, growing vegetables and plenty of fruit.  We also kept hens, so provided a great deal of our own food.

After the war my grandmother returned to complicated crochet, making mostly mats and deep lace to edge tablecloths.  My mother made clothes, but with new materials, and also developed a love of crewel wool work.  We still have the firescreen she made for us.  She also enjoyed crochet, which I did not.

I made most of my own clothes, and knitted jumpers, but also did embroidery as a hobby, making plenty of articles for my bottom draw (how old fashioned!).

In the late 40s I entered a local embroidery competition, my stitching was fine but I had used different coloured stranded cottons to the ones in the magazine design, so was heavily criticized.  Thank goodness things have changed and we now have so many threads differing in colour and texture, and stitching is more flexible.

My other grandmother mainly did tatting for edgings.  Her resident maid made prodded rag-rugs – her aim was to cover the floor of the cottage my grandfather promised her when she retired, which she did using mainly wool tweed samples and mens old suits.

My great uncle taught me netting and knotting.  His love was canvas wool work to his own designs.  His garden was his inspiration.  He grew up on Portland, hence the knowledge of fishing, but the canvas work enabled him to keep his hands presentable for working in the bank.

What followed next in the 50s, University, a Science degree, marriage, medical research.  The next big change was four children – three girls and the youngest a boy – so lots of clothes  to make, and stuffed toys galore. In the 60s I went to an Embroiderers’ Guild exhibition at the Commonwealth Institute.  This started a love of going to embroidery exhibitions.  I developed a fascination with needle and thread and joined the Embroiderers’ Guild. My daughters all made bobbin lace and were taught by an old lady locally.  Much later (in the 80s) came the chance of taking C and G Parts I and II at Godalming, after that to Wey Valley Workshop and the NEG.

One granddaughter is now on a Maths MSc course but did make bobbin lace.  Another, younger, granddaughter also wants to study Maths at university and does cross-stitch.  So crafts will continue.

A ‘magic morning’ was the way that one of our members described the visit to the Impressionist Galleries of the Courtauld Institute.

Our guide took us on a journey through French art from 1865 to 1905.

The first picture we studied was a copy by Manet of his Déjeuner sur l’Herbe. This painting shows a picnic in a naturalistic woodland setting. There are two women, one in the background collecting water and one naked, sitting on the ground with two fully clothed men. This was considered shocking at the time partly because the artist was painting a modern day scene and he included a naked woman. Nakedness was only acceptable in classical art when related to legend and mythology. He also was exploring the idea of peripheral vision and how this could be used in painting by making some areas of the picture less precise and clear.

Next we looked at Manet’s last large painting Un Bar aux Folies-Bergère 1881-2. Even though the composition seems fairly simple, it also has complex areas and is painted quite sketchily in parts to represent periphery vision. It is a record of modern day at the time it was painted but it has dark undertones with the groups of bottles, triangles, flowers and the two mirrored figures which do not seem to be at the correct angle. The barmaid’s melancholy contrasts with the general air of merriment.

We continued by looking at Lordship Lane Station, Dulwich by Pissaro 1871, La Loge by Renoir 1874, Antibes 1888 by Monet  and The Banks of the Seine, Argenteuil 1888 by Monet. These showed contemporary scenes and the development of brushwork and the use of colour.

Cézanne and Gauguin were featured. Gauguin’s evocative paintings from the South Seas Islands revealed dark images with sinister meanings in the back ground and Cézanne’s painting of the plaster ‘putto’ shows his interest in different planes and their relationships which heralded later styles of art.

The next area housed two Van Gogh works, Self Portrait with Bandaged Ear 1889, with a Japanese print on the wall and touches of unrealistic colour giving the painting more vibrancy.

The second also shows the Japanese influence and is a landscape depicting an orchard of peach trees. Wonderful to see especially after visiting the recent exhibition at the RA. Seurat’s pointillist paintings were also here.

We were then taken upstairs to look at the work of Derain at the seaside at Collioure 1905. These showed the development in the use of colour by the Fauve painters. The guide answered a question that I have often wanted to ask.  Why is cutting edge art  from the early part of the last century framed in such hideous frames? He said that the dealers did this to make them more fit into the décor of the homes of the purchasers.

This visit put work by various artists into context, was a chance to study them in greater detail and made me realise how they influenced each other.  The richness of the colour and texture contrasted with the exhibition of Michelangelo’s exquisite drawings at the same gallery and Bill Fontana’s River Sounding, an acoustic journey, at the basement level on the far side of Somerset House.

In view of the gloomy news from all over the country about embroidery classes closing, I thought that members might like to hear about a new initiative by the City Lit, London.

For many years they have run day and evening classes for students of all abilities, under the direction of Caroline Bartlett, but last September a new course was launched for advanced embroiderers. Fifteen students were enrolled after interviews and I was lucky enough to be accepted.

The classes are held all day on Saturdays in blocks of lessons, four weeks on and four weeks off to give time for expanding on the work started in class. The aim is to encourage skills and confidence to enable students to develop their own work independently once the course is completed. It culminates in an exhibition.

We have a variety of excellent tutors, mainly Louise Baldwin and Rachel Gornall for design and inspiration and days with Heather Belcher (felt work) and Charlotte Hardy (drawing and printing. By the end of January we were planning our own projects and working on them, with individual tuition from the tutors, and in July  a selection of all the work will be exhibited.

I am finding it quite hard work, but very interesting and stimulating, as one learns not only from the teachers but from the other students. It is fascinating to see how the subject for the year – Unfolding – can be interpreted in so many different ways.

In November, my daughter was invited to give a talk on painting conservation techniques at the University of Lisbon. When I expressed envy (as I’d had a wonderful holiday there a few years ago), I was invited to accompany her as a birthday present, which I accepted with great pleasure.

I was persuaded to travel ‘wheelchair assisted’ as we were to travel by Easyjet and Sarah knew I would not be capable of racing across the tarmac to grab a good seat I won’t bore you with the complications of cancelled trains, work on the underground, my metal knee setting off the security alarm, Sarah’s homoeopathic medicines (small phials of white powder) being questioned as illegal drugs and a rather overweight airport attendant shrieking that we were going to miss the flight and then Sarah having to run, pushing me in the wheelchair and pulling my suitcase, but it was worthy of ‘Carry On Up the Airport’.

The conservation department is in the newer part of the university on the south side of the Tagus. It is a marvellous facility, with a huge studio for each of the many disciplines, books textiles, paper, photographs, paintings, ceramics, film and several others. Each studio was so well equipped that I can imagine it being the envy of many UK departments, but then Portugal has the continually increasing endowment of the Gulbenkian Foundation, which provides the funding for many forms of art.

I was taken to see the textile conservation department, where twelve students were sitting along the side of a long bench working on a C16th silk tapestry, which was in a sad state, very dirty and worn round the edges and with several holes. Before it could be washed, it was being mounted on a silk backing sheet with tiny running stitches. What a labour of love. I was able to talk to the students for they all spoke excellent English. Since most conservation literature published is in English, to be fluent in the language is a requirement to join a course. I talked to one woman assistant from Romania, who was in Lisbon because in her country, the only art conservation is on icons. She had, therefore, also worked in Florence and Paris in order to gain the necessary experience of conserving other art forms.

One of my favourite parts of the city is the Baixa at the bottom of the hill from the old Jewish quarter. After the earthquake, the area was rebuilt in a grid pattern and the designer, Pombal, intended that the streets take the names of the crafts and businesses carried out there like Rua da Prata (Silversmiths’ street) and Rua da Sapateiros (Cobblers’ street). Although modern banks and offices have somewhat disturbed these divisions, plenty of traditional stores remain: the central section of Rua da Conceicao is lined on either side with haberdashers. Beads, ribbons, sequins, buttons of every sort, silks and fabrics in mouth-wateringly gorgeous colours, patterns and weaves. If you go to Lisbon, don’t miss it.

Dear Members,

Whilst writing this letter to you, I am once again in Poland enjoying a break in the spring sunshine. But as you must surely know, all is not well: the country is in a state of shock and mourning after the appalling air crash in Smolensk on Saturday 12th April. Red and white flags are flying at half mast trailing black ribbons, everywhere is subdued. TV and newspapers show us the grim pictures of the fated plane and later the official reception of the coffins at the Presidents palace in Warsaw. This is yet another cycle in the tragic history of Poland. In an age of rapid communication, travel, climate change and the threat of terrorism we must now expect the unexpected, hoping against hope that it doesn’t happen in our back yard. Yet none of us is immune to tragedy and catastrophe whether on a national or personal scale.

Anthea Godfrey preparing to speak to us at the AGM

Sometimes this can lead to an outpouring of creativity and renewal as clearly illustrated in Anthea Godfrey’s lecture at our AGM.  She talked about her mother Margaret Nicholson, an imposing and remarkable lady who I remember meeting briefly at the London College of Fashion. Margaret was born in 1913 in Sheffield. Her family was far from well off but at an early age she showed great talent for drawing. This was greatly encouraged by her grandfather who adored her and at the age of 15 she gained a bursary to go to Art School. Eight years later she began her career in the Fashion industry in Northampton which included designing shirts for C&A and Selfridges. At the same time she became a salon model so she learned both sides of the business. During the war Margaret was evacuated to Evesham where she worked in the local labour exchange. After the war she met her future husband Ian who was an electrical engineer. They settled down to married life and lived in several places including Reading, Potters’Bar and London. During this time they suffered the loss of no less than seven stillborn babies until eventually Anthea was born. It is hard to imagine how this couple coped with their grief but both of them must have had great determination and optimism. Margaret immersed herself in working for the Women’s Institute, the NSPCC, the Crafts Committee and later collaborated on projects with Avril Colby and Laura Ashley.

At some point she also took a course in horticulture because she always loved flowers and floristry. With her boundless energy and idealism she joined the Embroiderers’ Guild and was the first tutor to teach the City and Guilds certificate, one of her students being Audrey Walker.

Later, at the invitation of Dorothy Allsopp, she began to run courses on embroidery for the ILEA. This led to her appointment as lecturer at the London College of Fashion where she revolutionised the department with a fresh approach to design, filling the fashion houses with her students. As a consequence, the College now runs a foundation degree in fashion, embroidery and theatrical costume.

Throughout her life, Margaret somehow found time to develop her own work with a special interest in hand stitchery, gold work, or nué and beadwork. Her commissions included the Mother’s Union banner for Coventry cathedral, the St. Clare panels and 70 pieces for the Guild’s portfolio. When her husband died, Margaret moved in with Anthea and at the age of 65 started on a new series of work. Her designs were inspired by her passion for heads, plants and flowers, Byzantine, Japanese and Aztec patterns. According to Anthea she had a cupboard full of beads, some of which she dyed to make many exquisite necklaces. All the examples of her work and sketchbooks which Anthea brought for us to view showed a sensitive use of colour and pattern with superb technical ability. Today her idealism with her love of embroidery and fashion is still continuing through the work of her daughter who shows the same modesty and enthusiasm as her mother.

At present there seems to be a feast of art exhibitions in London: Arshile Gorky, Paul Nash and Van Gogh. I visited the R.A. over the Easter weekend due to a longstanding interest in Van Gogh. His brushwork seems to have an affinity with stitch and I love his use of colour. The thoughts expressed through his letters to his brother Theo, revealed an articulate and highly intelligent man setting out on a spiritual path for truth – whatever the cost. As you know, his awareness of everything he saw and sought to convey, was heightened by his possible bi-polar condition leading to his suicide at the early age of 37 years. This would seem to be yet another tragedy but seen in the light of today a triumph of creativity over adversity leaving us with a visual record of what it is to be truly human.

In our own way, we hope that our forthcoming exhibition at East Grinstead will inspire others with hope and encouragement to try their hand at some artistic pursuit which will immeasurably enrich their lives.

Exhibition at Chequer Mead

This was the exhibition showing all the 77 UK entries completed to support a self-help embroidery project in Afghanistan.  Ann printed details about the challenge in our Feb 2009 Newsletter and then the UK coordinator Meike Laurenson came to our 2009 AGM in person to encourage participation.  The NEG can take pride in the fact that 8 of its members exhibited.

Meike sold small, 8 cm square, embroideries in the UK for £6 each, stitched with Madeira threads by named Afghan women to their own designs.  The challenge for British textile craftspeople was to create a larger 2D piece inspired by and incorporating their chosen small square.  The finished piece could be any shape but had to be 1500 cm in circumference!   Meike inspired workers from a wide variety of backgrounds to participate.  Panel techniques included appliqué, hand and machine embroidery, weave, knit, crochet, felt, lace, rag rug, dyeing and traditional goldwork.  The small squares designed for the British all had pots or vessels on.  Many other European countries were taking part and their starting designs were all different.

The exhibition, back in mid February, had been beautifully hung by Meike.  On Saturday 13 February there was a ‘meet the artists’ afternoon.  Half of the exhibitors had opted to write about their piece.  Meike compiled an attractive booklet with everyone’s text which she had paired with a photograph of each contributor’s original chosen small square and the name of its Afghan creator.  Anna Mansi, Janice Lawrence, Kate Davis and I all had contributions in the book.  Liz Ashurst helpfully had her camera with her at the exhibition and photographed all the seven works you have not seen before.

Since the end of the exhibition I am delighted to report that Liz Ashurst’s piece Tea in the forest and Kate Davis’s Kites for freedom are two of the 24 selected to tour Europe for the next two years to promote the project.  The first time work from all the participating European countries was seen together was at the International Craft and Hobby Fair at the NEC Birmingham in March.  These selected pieces will go on to exhibitions in Luxembourg, Germany, Italy, France and hopefully Spain and Belgium too.

The other six of us with work in the exhibition now know that our work will tour round Britain for the next year, also helping raise the profile of the work of the women embroidering in Afghanistan.  For more details of the project visit www.oneearthtextiles.co.uk

Bridget Barber

Janice lawrence

Kate davis

Linda Litchfield

Liz Ashurst

Anna Mansi

Mary Anderson

You may have run up some loose covers, but have you ever knitted a throne? That is what I was asked to do in early January 2010.  I had recently started working on a part-time freelance basis for an organisation called Stitches in Time (www.stitchesintime.org.uk). They are based in the old Limehouse Town Hall Building and are involved in community-based publicly and privately funded textile projects. I only really wanted to do one or two days a week with them, enough to give me some contact with like-minded people but not enough to take over my life. Stitches had done some projects with Historic Royal Palaces (www.hrp.org.uk/kensingtonpalace) in the past, and were invited to tender for the knitting of a throne to be installed as part of the Enchanted Palace exhibition in Kensington Palace. This exhibition opened to the public on 26 March 2010 and will run for at least a year while part of the Palace is being refurbished. HRP had engaged an international theatre group based in Cornwall called Wildworks (www.wildworks.biz) to create the exhibition and Wildworks’ artistic director, Bill Mitchell, decided he wanted a knitted throne as part of it.

As a woman with a little time on her hands, passionate about knit as well as stitch, I was invited by Di England, director of Stitches, to go with her to the Palace on 7 January to meet Bill Mitchell and the HRP team. Bill explained his concept to us: he wanted a knitted throne, cosy (“I’m thinking tea cosy”, he said) and hand knitted by a number of people, which visitors would be encouraged to sit on and “feel the power” – a people’s throne. He gave us a watercolour sketch he had done of what he had in mind and the Palace had a large high-backed, chair with arms which we could use as a base. We were to use community groups to help with the knitting, we were not to use wool (fear of moths) and our deadline was 19 March. Di and I discussed what was involved, she put a bid together and within a week we got the go-ahead and Di appointed me lead artist on the project.

From that point on, for the next 10 weeks, all my working time, almost all of my waking hours and quite a few when I should have been sleeping were devoted to the knitted throne. I began by dividing up the knitting into its various elements and deciding what could be divided further into smaller units to be knitted by community groups of varying ability. I wrote patterns for each of the different elements and sourced materials (acrylic, cotton, viscose tape and ribbon, lurex and jute) from a wonderful company called Texere Yarns in Yorkshire (www.texereyarns.co.uk). I knitted a great many samples. Di England identified five community groups that Stitches had had dealings with before and invited them to participate in knitting workshops during the second half of January and February. Two of these groups consisted of seniors (all women), one in North Kensington and the other in Tower Hamlets, one was a group who met in a café in Limehouse, there was a group of young mothers and nannies who met in a church hall on the King’s Road, SW1, and the fifth group was an after-school club in Portobello. As it turned out, no-one in these last two groups could knit, though all were keen to learn, and some did.

I taught three of these workshop groups myself, and colleagues from Stitches led the other two. I assessed what could be expected of each group and within what time frame. Our deadline was tight and I knew I was going to have to knit quite a lot of the throne myself. In the end I knitted the finials, the face, which was then embroidered by me and others at Stitches, the edges of the back, part of the seat, part of the skirt, the hands and the feet. The workshop groups knitted the petals around the face, 10cm squares which make up the front and back of the back (74 in all), the arms in ribbed sections, the remainder of the seat in Aran stitches, the remainder of the skirt and the gold coverings of the legs, the knees and the uprights between the back and the seat.

Not only did the knitting have to be done, it then had to be stitched together, backed with fabric and fitted onto the chair. Until the final week, the chair remained in the Palace, so we were praying that our careful initial measurements were accurate and that the knitting of 30 people could be stitched together and made to fit. A week before our deadline, the chair was conveyed by white van to Limehouse and, with the help of the production team at Stitches, fitting began in earnest and, almost, round the clock. The work was finished at 8.30pm on 18 March 2010 and the following morning, Di England and I went with the throne in the white van back to Kensington Palace. We were not sufficiently relaxed to permit anyone else to carry it, and insisted on heaving it ourselves up several flights of stairs to its plinth in the throne room. Since then, a speaker and microphone have been installed under it and when visitors sit on it, a voice invites them to make a wish: sitting on the throne may invest them with the power to make that wish come true.

I do not want to think about people sitting on our work and I am not certain that a year from now all our knitting will be intact. But I suppose one must let it go: it is public art to be enjoyed by the public. It was a great experience to have been involved in. I met and collaborated with some excellent women, who worked very hard, and some very exuberant children. I knitted until my hands and arms ached, often into the small hours of the morning but never lost my love of the process. I can’t say that I would do it all over again, but I would contemplate something similar. The Crown Jewels perhaps?

Our Christmas Party at the beginning of December now seems a million miles away but the memory of members renewing friendships and enjoying the lecture on Victorian and Edwardian ecclesiastical embroidery by the scholarly Mary Schoeser, is still fresh in my mind. In the face of declining church membership in Britain, the subject could seem at first glance to be dull and unrelated to contemporary life but Mary quickly dispersed such thoughts by showing us an outstanding range of embroideries. Altar frontals, banners and related items took on a new dimension as we marvelled at the quality of design and technique reflecting a strong desire to produce only the very best to enhance the purpose and architecture of the buildings. It was also interesting to note that it was frequently the wife of the incumbent priest who carried out the embroidery, often in collaboration with an architect; one way at least in which she could improve her own status in the parish. In a now secular society this is a rapidly diminishing art form and we must do all we can to preserve and appreciate this historic heritage. Only the highest standards of workmanship will do for such a public spaces and well meaning but poorly designed embroidery must be discouraged. Today, Jane Lemon and the Sarum embroiderers produce outstanding work for some of our major cathedrals, e.g. Salisbury and Bath Abbey, and our own member Glenys Grimwood has also created a wide range of excellent church embroidery over many years.

At the time of writing this letter I’m sitting in bed with a head cold contemplating a snowy landscape of white rooftops and distant forests. All plans for visiting local schools and meeting a young graduate in fine art from the Marie Curie Academy of Fine Art in Lublin have evaporated. Meanwhile I’m confined to our flat in a well-heated and insulated communist block in Sanok, S.E. Poland. My resources are limited and sometimes this can be an advantage for there is more time to think and contemplate. Thankfully there is some reading matter to hand, a frank and engaging book by Julian Baggini Welcome to Everytown (Granta publications) extracted at the last minute from W.H.Smiths at Gatwick airport. Its theme is ‘A journey into the English mind’, an appropriate choice for someone leaving the U.K. for a country which is just celebrating 20 years since the collapse of the Berlin Wall. This book is a philosophical gem thoughtfully and amusingly written by a shrewd observer of the English way of life. To understand the British psyche, Baggini stepped out of his own comfort zone (Bristol) and went to live for six months in Rotherham, South Yorkshire with the postcode R66 which has the most typical mix of pensioners, struggling families, aspiring singles and so on. During his stay in ‘Everytown’ he read the most popular newspapers, looked at the highest rated TV programmes and listened to the nations’ favourite radio stations. He took the kind of holiday most people take and ate what they ate. I cannot detail in this letter his revealing observations, you must read them for yourself but it does give you a fascinating insight into the English mind and way of life.

As artists we are also observers, keeping sketchbooks and making notes on things which intrigue and attract us. When we create an art work in any media, we are trying to communicate something which is essentially unique to our view of the world. If we are completely honest in our intentions and are able to combine skill with sensitivity, we might create something which resonates with a few or a lot of people. This is our ultimate hope, to make a visual connection with others so they might see something in a different light and maybe prompt them to explore their own creativity.
Stepping out of England to live in a different culture can be challenging but immensely stimulating. Trying to understand the Polish mindset calls for a lifetime’s investigation. A country whose outlook has been restricted by communism for virtually 50 years does not change overnight. Coming to terms with a turbulent history and changing from communal to individual thinking and enterprise is a long and often painful process but there are signs that this is beginning to happen assisted by funding from the E.U. I’m really looking forward to meeting other Polish artists and teachers and reporting back in a future newsletter.

Szczesliwego Nowego Roku (A Happy New Year) and every good wish for a creative 2010.

Last night Bill and I went to the National Theatre and in the Olivier foyer is a delightful exhibition called Stranded by a women called Lalla Ward. I haven’t heard of her, but other members may know of her. Her work is free machine embroidery and I found it quite impressive.

She is married to a zoologist and with him has visited the Galapagos, Madagascar, Mauritius and New Zealand studying stranded animals and plants and finding that, after reading Darwin, she was inspired in this creative activity. Quoting from her blurb: “I draw. I paint ceramics. I make mosaics. I make pictures. The medium might change, but they are all just pictures. My subject matter is always animals and plants. When I learnt that you could draw with the needle of a sewing machine – paint with thread – I knew I had to try. I’d never owned a sewing machine before, but it’s easier when you don’t know anything about the usual stuff; I’m hopeless at seams and straight lines, but I don’t know, either, to be afraid of ignoring the norm and hurtling into experiment. I’m pretty much self-taught, with the help of a few books, and it’s been and continues to be a process of fascination, infuriation when things go wrong, and thrill when they go right. Thread-painting is painstakingly slow, but an exciting medium that I have found enthrallingly interesting. I’m learning as I go, about fabrics and yarns, tension and technique, rules and breaking them, strands and stranded wildlife.”

The pictures are beautifully executed, the animals and birds in machine embroidery in their authentic colours, which are then cut out and mounted on abstract patchwork backgrounds in muted colours, blacks, beiges, browns, greys, patterned and plain, simple or exotic fabrics, with a good sense of design. She says that her machine is quite ordinary, not a singing and dancing appliance and that she sources her materials from such as Mulberry Silks, The Silk Route and others that we see regularly advertising in Embroidery magazine. They are all professionally mounted in matching frames, which greatly added to the appearance of the exhibits.

Well worth a visit, but you will have to hurry as the exhibition ends on 14th February.

Our instructions were to meet at 11.50am having previously locked away our bags, coats etc. and carrying notebooks and pencils only plus purses and mobile phones in a transparent plastic bag, provided free. Also well-washed hands. Apparently, white gloves can do more damage to the book bindings than washed hands.

We met Karen Limper-Herz, curator, British collections 1501–1800 and were led through locked corridors. Already in the study room was a selection of exciting books. Karen had researched and written a paper on this subject which she read together with projected illustrations. After her talk we were able to look closely at all the books. These dated from the 1500s and included bibles, psalters, presentation books etc. and from the C18th and C19th, almanacs and keepsake books. Those made in England were the finest in the world.

Earlier books were bound in leather, paper, ivory, tortoiseshell and fabrics. During Elizabeth I’s reign and the Tudor period the books were printed with board covers and handed to the embroiderers who used velvet, satin, silk and canvas to cover with stitch for the final covers of the books. Velvet was a favourite and wore very well, as did any of the fabric covers once covered with stitching.

In 1561 the Broderers’ Co. was granted its charter. These professional embroiderers became very organised. Some book covers were embroidered at home in the large houses. A padding of cotton was put between the boards and the embroidered covers.

Sometimes small embroidered books have been found in their own embroidered bags, sometimes even with gloves and often a small piece of fabric with which to hold the book. The bag was protective but also a fashion accessory. Stitches found on the various covers included tapestry, cross stitch, tent, feather, chain, split, satin and beautiful goldwork. Pearls and spangles, the latter being held down by a pearl, gimp or a seed. Favourite subjects include apples, pears, strawberries, roses, carnations, tulips, lilies, daffodils, and pansies (heartsease).
When a book is acquired by the British Library it first has to go into quarantine. This is an area completely separate from the library and the book is minutely examined for insects and contaminants. Various methods are used to eradicate these. Other damage may have been caused by handling, poor storage etc.

All books should always be stored standing up and therefore a special box called a drop-back box is made especially to fit each book. Most are lined with velvet as this has an excellent surface to store embroidered books.