Blickling's Historic Crewelwork – The Stitches That Survived

The story of historic embroidery, the women who helped preserve it and the inspiration we can still find in centuries-old stitches.

Last week, I wrote about my visit to Blickling Hall in Norfolk and the fascinating Journeys exhibition, featuring textiles from the Karun Thakar Collection. It was a wonderful opportunity to explore the creativity of women from different cultures and to consider how textiles can tell stories that are sometimes overlooked in traditional historical accounts.

However, there was something else at Blickling that I particularly wanted to investigate.

Away from the exhibition, in the historic rooms of the house, I discovered a magnificent collection of crewel embroidery decorating a bed.

I have always been fascinated by historic needlework, but what particularly interests me is not simply how beautiful a finished piece looks. I want to understand how it was made, why certain techniques were chosen and what we can learn from the people who stitched it.

Standing in front of the embroidered bed hangings, I found myself doing exactly that.

The closer I looked, the more questions I had.

Who had worked these stitches? How long had they taken? Were the designs embroidered directly onto the fabric, or had some elements been worked separately?

And perhaps most importantly, how had these beautiful textiles survived for so long?

After returning home, I contacted the National Trust to find out more. What I discovered added another fascinating chapter to the story.

What Exactly Is Crewel Embroidery?

Crewel embroidery is a form of surface embroidery traditionally worked with wool yarn, usually on linen or another sturdy woven fabric.

Unlike counted-thread embroidery, where the threads of the fabric help determine the positioning of the stitches, crewel embroidery allows the stitcher much greater freedom.

Designs can flow across the fabric, creating curling branches, elaborate flowers, leaves, birds and other decorative shapes.

A variety of embroidery stitches can be used to create different textures and effects. Stem stitch produces wonderfully flowing lines, while long and short stitch allows colours to blend. Other stitches, such as satin stitch, chain stitch and French knots, add detail and texture.

One of the things I particularly enjoy about this type of embroidery is the way relatively simple stitches can be combined to produce something remarkably elaborate.

A single leaf might contain several different stitches, each contributing to the overall effect.

It is a reminder that embroidery is not simply a matter of filling a shape with thread. The direction, spacing and choice of stitches all help create movement, texture and character.

Embroidery as a Statement of Wealth and Fashion

During the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, embroidered furnishings were an important feature of many wealthy British homes.

Beds were particularly significant pieces of furniture.

Today, we tend to think of a bed as something private and practical, but in grand houses, elaborately furnished bedchambers could also communicate wealth, taste and social standing.

Bed hangings had practical purposes too. Curtains could provide privacy and help retain warmth, particularly in large rooms that were difficult to heat.

However, the fabrics used to decorate these beds could be extraordinarily elaborate.

Crewel embroidery was especially suitable for furnishing textiles because wool yarn created strong decorative effects and could be used across large areas of fabric.

The designs often included twisting stems, oversized flowers, foliage and other natural forms.

Some patterns were influenced by textiles arriving in Britain through international trade, particularly the decorative floral designs found on imported Indian fabrics.

These influences were interpreted and adapted by British designers and embroiderers, creating styles that became popular in domestic furnishings.

This is another interesting connection with the Journeys exhibition at Blickling.

Textile history is rarely confined to one country or culture. Ideas, materials, patterns and techniques have travelled around the world for centuries, influencing the work produced in different places.

The Crewelwork at Blickling Hall

The embroidered bed hangings I examined are in the West Turret Bedroom at Blickling Hall.

The National Trust's public information suggests that the hangings date from the late seventeenth century, while additional information I received following my visit describes the crewelwork as eighteenth-century.

This difference in dating is not unusual when studying historic textiles, particularly pieces that have been altered or reassembled over time. The precise dating of the embroidery is therefore something I would be interested in exploring further.

Regardless of the exact date, we are looking at work that has survived for approximately three centuries.

That is quite extraordinary when you consider the fragile nature of textiles.

Unlike furniture or ceramics, textiles are particularly vulnerable to damage from light, insects, dust, handling and changing environmental conditions.

The fact that these embroidered hangings have survived at all is remarkable.

But their survival also tells us something about the many people who have cared for them over the years.

Looking Beyond the Finished Design

When I examined the embroidery, I was particularly interested in the arrangement of the motifs.

One of the questions that occurred to me was whether some of the embroidered shapes might have been worked separately before being attached to the background fabric.

In historic embroidery, separately worked motifs are sometimes referred to as slips.

These could be embroidered onto one piece of fabric, cut out and then applied to another ground.

It was a useful method because decorative elements could be created individually before being arranged into a larger composition.

Looking at some of the motifs at Blickling, I wondered whether a similar process might have been involved.

Of course, appearances can be deceptive, particularly when viewing historic textiles that have undergone alterations and conservation.

Without examining the reverse of the work or studying detailed conservation records, I cannot establish whether this was the original construction method.

However, it is exactly the sort of question that makes studying historic embroidery so rewarding.

We can learn a great deal simply by observing carefully and considering the different ways a piece might have been made.

And sometimes the questions are just as interesting as the answers.

A Textile That Has Changed Over Time

Following my visit, I received a helpful response from Rosamund at the National Trust, who provided further information about the embroidery.

One particularly interesting detail was that the bed hangings had been reworked during the 1930s.

I find this fascinating because we often assume that when we see historic textiles displayed in a stately home, we are seeing them exactly as they were originally made.

In reality, that is frequently not the case.

Textiles are often altered to suit changing fashions, different rooms or new pieces of furniture.

Bed hangings might be shortened, rearranged or adapted to fit another bed. Damaged sections could be replaced, and embroidered panels might be reused rather than discarded.

It is therefore important to remember that a historic textile can represent several different periods of its life.

The original embroidery tells one story.

The later alterations tell another.

And the conservation work carried out to preserve it adds yet another chapter.

Rather than diminishing the importance of the piece, I think these changes make its history even more interesting.

They show that textiles were valued, reused and adapted instead of simply being thrown away.

That is a lesson that feels particularly relevant today.

The Women Who Helped Save the Embroidery

Perhaps the most interesting discovery concerned the conservation work carried out during the 1970s.

Rosamund explained that the embroidered bed hangings were conserved by volunteers working under the guidance of Pamela Clabburn.

Pamela Clabburn is an important name in Norfolk's textile history.

Her work helped establish the National Trust's Textile Conservation Studio at Blickling in 1976, initially as a volunteer-led initiative. Over time, this developed into the specialist professional conservation service that exists today.

The studio celebrates its fiftieth anniversary in 2026.

I find it rather wonderful that I should be researching this embroidery during such a significant anniversary year.

The conservation of historic textiles requires tremendous patience, knowledge and skill.

Unlike creating a new piece of embroidery, conservation is not about making something look new again.

The aim is to preserve as much of the original material as possible while providing the support necessary for the textile to survive.

In the case of the Blickling bed hangings, the embroidery was remounted onto twill linen, providing a supporting ground for the historic work.

According to the information supplied to me, it is not believed that new embroidered motifs were introduced during this conservation.

That is an important distinction.

Although the textiles have been altered and supported, the decorative embroidery itself is believed to be historic.

I cannot help thinking about the women who carried out this work.

We often celebrate the original embroiderers, even when we do not know their names, but the conservation volunteers also deserve recognition.

Their skill and dedication have allowed us to continue appreciating embroidery created centuries earlier.

There is something very special about one generation of stitchers helping to preserve the work of another.

The Invisible Makers

One of the recurring themes in my research into historic textiles is how little we sometimes know about the people who actually made them.

We may know who owned a grand house, who commissioned its furnishings or whose portrait hangs above the fireplace.

Yet the names of the people responsible for producing the textiles are frequently missing.

Crewel embroidery was often associated with women's domestic needlework, although professional embroiderers and workshops also contributed to the production of elaborate furnishings.

We should not automatically assume that every embroidered bed hanging was stitched by the lady of the house.

Some pieces may have involved several stitchers, including paid workers whose names were never recorded.

Nor can we assume that all the work was undertaken by women without evidence for a particular object.

That uncertainty is part of the challenge of researching textile history.

What we can appreciate is the knowledge and skill required to produce such work.

The design had to be planned, the materials selected and the stitches carefully worked across a considerable area.

Even without knowing the identity of the original maker, the embroidery itself provides evidence of artistic decisions and technical ability.

For me, that is an important part of the story.

I want to understand not only the finished object but also the creative people whose hands produced it.

How Much Time Did It Take?

This is one of those questions I would dearly love to answer.

Working as a textile artist myself, I know just how much time can disappear into creating a piece of embroidery.

Even a relatively small design can involve many hours of work.

Now imagine producing the quantity of embroidery required for a complete set of bed hangings.

The preparation alone would have been considerable.

Fabric needed to be prepared, designs transferred, threads selected and the embroidery worked before the final construction could begin.

We do not have enough information to calculate how long the Blickling embroidery took to complete or how many people were involved.

Nevertheless, looking at the scale of the work gives us some appreciation of the commitment involved.

It also raises another question.

Was the embroidery regarded as an enjoyable creative activity, a demonstration of accomplishment, paid work, or perhaps a combination of these things?

The answer would depend very much on who was making it and the circumstances in which they worked.

These are the human stories that I find so interesting.

What Historic Embroidery Teaches Me as an Artist

Whenever I study historic textiles, I am reminded how much we can learn from earlier makers.

Not necessarily by copying their designs, but by understanding the decisions they made.

Why does one shape flow more successfully than another?

How have different stitches been used to create contrast?

What happens when colours are placed next to one another?

How does the design lead the eye around the fabric?

These are the same questions I consider when developing my own textile work.

One of the most valuable lessons I learned during my textile studies was that an artist should interpret what they see rather than simply reproduce it.

I was also encouraged to be adventurous with colour and not be afraid to take existing work apart to create something new.

Those lessons have remained with me throughout my artistic career.

When I look at the Blickling embroidery, I am not thinking about reproducing those bed hangings.

Instead, I am interested in the flowing shapes, the movement within the motifs and the extraordinary possibilities offered by embroidery stitches.

A historic design can become the starting point for something entirely different.

That is what makes studying the past so exciting.

Bringing Traditional Stitches Into Contemporary Embroidery

During 2027, I am planning a series of crewel-inspired embroidery workshops at Eau Brink Studio.

Each workshop will concentrate on a different decorative animal, with six designs from which participants can choose.

Although we will be taking inspiration from traditional crewel embroidery, there will be one important difference.

We will be stitching with stranded cotton embroidery floss rather than the wool yarn traditionally used for crewelwork.

I particularly enjoy working with stranded cotton because it offers such an enormous range of colours and allows for both fine detail and interesting stitched textures.

By varying the number of strands and experimenting with different stitches, we can create a wide range of effects.

We will explore traditional embroidery techniques, but the aim will be to interpret them in a contemporary way.

The designs will feature decorative animals, flowers, leaves and other motifs inspired by the flowing patterns found in historical embroidery.

I want participants to become confident in their stitching, develop an understanding of how different stitches work together and, above all, enjoy the creative possibilities of working with needle and thread.

There is no need to reproduce an old design exactly in order to appreciate the skills of the past.

In fact, I believe that taking historical inspiration and creating something personal is one of the most rewarding ways to keep traditional techniques alive.

Why Textile Conservation Matters

One final thought has stayed with me since my visit.

We live in a world where textiles are often treated as disposable.

Clothing, furnishings and other fabric items can be replaced so easily that we sometimes forget the time, materials and skill involved in making them.

Historic textiles remind us that fabric can carry memories, history and evidence of extraordinary craftsmanship.

The Blickling bed hangings have survived changes in ownership, alterations in fashion and centuries of use and display.

Their continued existence is due not only to those who originally made them but also to the people who recognised their value and worked to preserve them.

The National Trust's conservation work allows us to study textiles that might otherwise have disappeared.

And for contemporary embroiderers, these surviving pieces provide a wonderful connection with the past.

We may use different materials, work in different surroundings and create very different designs, but the basic pleasure of making stitches with a needle and thread remains remarkably familiar.

Continuing the Journey

My visit to Blickling began with an interest in an exhibition celebrating textiles from around the world.

It has since led me to investigate the history of a much older piece of embroidery and the remarkable people who helped preserve it.

That, for me, is one of the greatest pleasures of researching textile history.

One discovery leads to another.

A beautiful piece of embroidery raises questions about its construction.

Those questions lead to conservation records, historical research and new ideas for my own work.

And before long, something I originally stopped to admire has become the inspiration for an entirely new creative journey.

I would like to thank Rosamund and the National Trust team at Blickling for sharing information about the historic crewelwork and its conservation.

I hope to continue exploring Norfolk's textile history and sharing the fascinating stories that emerge.

I would love to hear your thoughts.

When you visit a historic house or museum, do you find yourself looking closely at the embroidery and wondering how it was made?

Or have you ever been inspired by an old textile to create something completely new?

Do leave a comment or get in touch. I always enjoy hearing from fellow stitchers and textile enthusiasts.

You can find out more about my textile art, workshops and creative projects at Eau Brink Studio, near King's Lynn in Norfolk.

Photographs: My own photographs taken during my visit to Blickling Hall, October 2026.

Acknowledgements: With thanks to Rosamund and the National Trust at Blickling for additional information about the historic bed hangings.

National Trust Collections reference supplied in correspondence: 355755.