Why I Weave: The Slow Art that Grounds me…

In a world that often feels like it’s rushing forward at full speed, weaving is my way of slowing down.

It’s a craft that doesn’t shout for attention. It’s quiet, methodical, and grounding. It invites me into a state of creative flow—where my hands move instinctively, and my thoughts are free to wander. In those moments, time stretches out. I’m not racing toward a goal; I’m simply building—thread by thread, loop by loop.

Weaving allows me to create forms slowly, almost meditatively. There's something deeply satisfying about watching a shape emerge from nothing, growing line by line into a basket, a lantern, or an abstract sculpture. Each one is a gentle accumulation of effort and attention, with no need to rush.

I love that it’s a tactile, flexible process. I can work large or small, detailed or loose, depending on my energy or mood. Some days I make bold sculptural pieces; other days, I stick with a simple handheld basket. The simplicity of the process belies the complexity of what can be made.

One of the things that draws me most is the organic nature of the materials. I often work with paper string, natural fibres, or foraged textures like bark or grasses—materials that don’t cost the earth, in every sense. Many are biodegradable. Some are completely free, gifted by the landscape. Weaving gives me a way to honour those materials—transforming them without waste or excess.

It’s also refreshingly low-tech. I don’t need a studio full of gear, just my hands, some time, and a bundle of something flexible. It’s portable. I can take it to the garden, to a sunny corner indoors, or to a market stall. It weaves easily into my life.

And while my hands are busy, my brain is free. Weaving becomes a quiet space to think, to rest, or to imagine. It’s a physical rhythm that steadies me. A slow art that returns me to myself.

That’s why I weave.