I learnt a new skill at the end of last year – candlewick embroidery. Quorn Country Crafts were running a workshop, and it was something I’d not come across before, so I signed up with a friend. At monthly sessions from September to December, we whiled away several hours learning embroidery stitches with a patient tutor in Sue, and dutifully completed our homework. I took my second-ever embroidery panel with me on holiday, and it was the start of many conversations, not least as I was a male doing embroidery. Here’s the final result, finished earlier this month:

What’s candlewick embroidery?

Candlewick embroidery is a traditional form of surface embroidery characterised by raised, textured designs created using clusters of knots, most commonly French and colonial knots. It takes its name from the thick, soft cotton yarn originally used for candle wicks, which early embroiderers adopted for its weight and loft. The technique is typically worked in white or unbleached cotton on plain fabric, with simple floral, geometric or repeating motifs that emphasise texture rather than colour or line. Historically associated with household textiles such as bedspreads and quilts, candlewick embroidery developed as a practical and decorative technique that remains valued today for its clarity, durability and distinctive relief-like finish.

Designing a candlewick embroidery quilt

Where is the quilt going to live?

I feel there is no point attending a workshop and making a quilt without knowing where it is going to end up. Somewhat controversially (by the reactions of my fellow stitchers) I chose to create a new sofa throw which even the dogs would be allowed to get on. The original workshop sample had five designs with four patchwork panels to make a 3×3 block quilt. I did a measure-up, sketched my idea for the format of my quilt and established I would need six embroidered blocks:

Colour choices for the embroidered panels

I instinctively chose neutrals for the panels and stitching, mainly so the quilt would fit into the room and complement the upholstery finish. It turns out this was a great choice, reflecting the origins of candlewick embroidery. The thread is quite thick (just less than 1mm in diameter/size 5) and variegated [Valdani hand-dyed pearlised cotton from Romania, P4].

What to embroider?

For the embroidery itself, I used a mixture of Sue’s designs and my own. I adapted some of my single-line quilting motifs and incorporated elements from Sue’s designs to try to create cohesion across the panels. My stitching is quite small, dense and tight – a conscious decision given doggy claws would be all over it, and I didn’t want it snagging.

What should I sit on?

The embroidery panels were definitely there to be viewed and appreciated after all the work I had put into them. I needed to plan a panel to sit on, and also to hook over the back cushions. I took a scrap of wallpaper with me so the colour choices could fit into the decor and chose mottled, unfussy, unpatterned fabric. The panel design ended up being a geometric counterpoint to the embroidery:

Quilting and construction choices

Some old tricks…

I was concerned that quilting the panels would be an issue: I didn’t want the quilting to distract from the design and the stitching, and I wasn’t keen on wrangling the quilt to sew any finicky details. I chose to quilt-as-I-went, which tackled the latter, and to quilt close to the embroidery to deal with the former. I still needed to wrangle the whole quilt to attach the backing fabric, but it was manageable.

… and A couple of new techniques

Rather than my usual method of laying out the fabric squares, sewing them edge to edge, joining the rows and inevitably finding something misplaced, I tried a new technique. It had popped up on my Facebook timeline and turned out to be a very appropriate algorithmic placement. Start with a piece of lightweight iron-on stabiliser, lay it face up and then lay the squares right side up, edge to edge. Fold along the first column edge and sew with a generous 1/4″ seam. Repeat across the block. trim off the very edges of the folds with a rotary tool and ruler, and then iron the open seams flat. Repeat with the rows. My corners were sharp, my diagonals fairly lined up, and it was so, so much quicker.

I label all my quilts and keep a small notebook with detailed information on each of them. In the past, I have embroidered the labels. This time, I felt I had done more than enough embroidering, so I tried out a more modern method. This is what an xTool UV laser does to dark fabric when used gently. I think it’s a great result, and my own handwriting font makes it even more personal.

Let’s talk costs

I think people underestimate the cost of materials to make a quilt. With the balls of thread at £6.50 each, the fabric at £13-15 per metre, not to mention batting, basting spray, sewing threads and needles, materials alone came to around £100. Throw in the mileage and workshop fees, this quilt cost about £250 to make.

I don’t know how many hours I spent working on it. I was away on holiday with the middle top panel and spent many, many hours learning the stitches and completing the design. I’m sure the accompanying beers helped my stress levels, but maybe not so much my coordination… Other panels were a little quicker. Totting it up, I don’t think 50 hours of work is too far out. At minimum wage, that’s £610.50. At my normal making rate of £20ph, it’s £1000.

It’s why I don’t make quilts to sell. Or very often.