The Continuing Trials of Curating Art with My Embroidery Machine

At Eau Brink Studio, I’m always exploring new ways to merge traditional textile techniques with modern technology. Since March this year, I’ve been diving headfirst into the world of digital embroidery — curating art through my embroidery machine. It’s been a fascinating adventure filled with learning, frustration, laughter, and the occasional tangle of thread.

When I began, I thought it would be a simple shift — after all, threads and fabrics are my everyday language. But this process has turned out to be something completely different. It’s a blend of art, engineering, and patience. I’ve spent many hours experimenting, investing in professional software, and discovering that even the most expensive tools don’t come with an instant understanding of how to use them.

The reality is that every design behaves differently once it reaches the hoop. Sometimes it’s beautiful, sometimes it’s baffling. I’ve had stitches that pull too tight, colours that shift unexpectedly, and files that refuse to co-operate. Yet each mistake teaches me something new — about texture, density, and how a digital image becomes something tactile and alive.

When Things Don’t Go to Plan

Take this piece, for example. It was meant to be a peaceful coastal scene — sunlight over water with distant mountains on the horizon. On the computer screen, everything looked perfect. Every section filled, every stitch direction planned. But when the machine began stitching, parts of the sea and mountains simply vanished, leaving whole areas unfinished.

Looking at it now, it’s actually quite striking in its own way — the golden sun glowing above clouds and a fractured horizon, the sea half-stitched like a memory fading. At first, I was frustrated (to put it politely), but I’ve come to see this piece as a record of my learning curve. It shows how even small technical oversights — a missed colour stop or overlapping layer — can completely change the outcome.

Rather than scrapping it, I’ve decided to keep it as a marker of progress. It reminds me that mastery doesn’t come from perfection — it grows out of persistence, mistakes, and curiosity. Sometimes, the unfinished work tells a more honest story than the flawless one.

There’s something humbling about watching a design come to life in stitches. The process is full of surprises; a small change in direction or stitch type can transform a flat design into something with depth and emotion. I’ve learned to embrace the chaos, to trust that the machine and I are working in collaboration rather than opposition.

I’m not there yet — not even close — but every day I get a little more confident. Each experiment reveals a new possibility, and even the failures are oddly satisfying. This isn’t just learning software; it’s learning a whole new way to express art through thread and technology.

It’s a journey I’m thrilled to be on — imperfect, challenging, and endlessly rewarding.

If you’d like to follow along with my progress (and the occasional embroidery mishap), you can find regular updates, photos, and behind-the-scenes moments on my social media channels — just search for Eau Brink Studio on Instagram, Facebook, or Threads.