Garden Museum ribbon work class

I thought ribbon work was twee. I thought most embroidery was twee, controversially, as someone who studied embroidery. Ribbonworks general application seems to be fiddly wreaths, or love hearts make of tiny delicate flowers.

Looking up ribbon work, I discovered it was used by Mi'kmaq people as early as 1611, as surface decoration on clothing. The ribbons were applied flat, with shapes cut into them, or woven together. Sometime in the 18th century, ribbon work found its way to France, the bunchy flower technique popular with fancy ladies, like the French royal family. Posh Ladies in the British court found out, and also thought it was swell. 

After a period out of fashion it regained favour when in the early 1900s it was applied to waistcoats, quilts, bags, clothes, maybe anything textile based. Now its somewhere in the ‘craft’ section; sometimes thought about in high fashion, sometimes sold in little kits to make little squishy roses. 

Sometime last year I stopped being anti-ribbon. I bought neon colours and crinkly textures, and found ribbons in biscuit tins I had been given by grannies. I started sewing big, brash flowers. I made neon poppies and I added latex strips and gaudy beads for stamens and stigmas and all the other flower innards I have forgotten. Ribbons work well for flowers. 

I like using it for big, bold petals. Echinacea flowers look great, poppies with their crinkly petals, big yellow sunflowers. Leaves and stems in big overlapping stitches. I incorporate weird wools and pompoms and all the other textured pieces I find lying around. I put aside the Miranda Priestly voice in my head saying ‘Florals for spring…groundbreaking’. I had a nice time fiddling around without a desired end result. 

Then I was asked to run a workshop at the Garden Museum. I taught my weird interpretation of ribbon work. Every student came away with something interesting and beautiful. It was fun to teach a class in something I had previously disliked.

Thanks to the Garden Museum and Alice Vincent for trusting me.