This research project reads the cross-stitch sampler as both an instrumental practice and an instrument itself. The project pairs historical analysis with stitched motifs or designs.
Materials: Aida, DMC floss, needle, embroidery hoop, Microsoft Excel, Microsoft Word, Adobe Acrobat, and various library resources.
In the early 2000s, a woman named Julie Jackson purchased a sampler kit at her local craft store in search of some “art therapy” to combat the frustration of dealing with her boss. The pattern featured an intricate border of pink flowers, with space in the middle for a newly married couple to stitch their initials. Instead, Jackson stitched the letters “F-U-C-K” in black floss, stark against the white aida and delicately framed by the floral motif.
Delighted by the resulting product, Jackson launched Subversive Cross Stitch, an online pattern store that claims to distinguish itself from its “old timey” counterpart through the shocking juxtaposition of traditional motifs and irreverent phrases. The words “Spark Joy or Get Out,” “Wear a Fucking Mask,” and “Home Sweet Homo” replaced the motivational phrases ubiquitous in contemporary samplers without otherwise disrupting the designs. The overwhelming popularity of these patterns, combined with the distinction that Jackson discursively establishes between her work and the “old timey” patterns that come before it, frames her patterns as a significant rupture in the history of cross-stitch samplers and needle arts more generally.
Although the resulting artifact may be subversive insofar as using profanity still tends to be labeled subversive, I want to take seriously the question of whether these patterns really subvert the practice of sampler stitching. To say that the insertion of particular kinds of words into the sampler subverts the sampler risks presenting the sampler as a static, inflexible instrument. By directing some attention away from the finished object and toward the material praxis that creates it, I propose to read the cross-stitch sampler as an instrument that is always culturally and socially contingent. Before four letter words made their way to the centres of samplers, crafters were experimenting with the affordances of the form, iteratively reinventing what the sampler was through the practice of crafting one.
For much of its history, stitchers—often but not always women and young girls—have used the craft to mend and decorate clothing, table linens, and other household textiles, but the practice of producing cross-stitched works as a leisure activity or as an art object to frame and display has grown in popularity over the last half century.
One popular type of cross-stitched piece is the sampler, which often features a combination of figures, motifs, patterns, alphabets, and decorative borders. In the coming weeks, I propose to think of the sampler as both an instrumental practice and as an instrument itself. As a low-stakes project, the sampler offers beginners a way to familiarize themselves with the craft and experiment with different threads and techniques. The finished product can then serve as a reference document for color palettes and stitching methods for larger and more involved designs. At the same time, the sampler also records and measures the maker’s skill, performing a similar instrumental role to a portfolio. I propose to take a broad historical view of the western cross-stitch sampler to survey some of the ruptures and continuities in how it has been instrumentalized—from communicating a woman’s eligibility as a homemaker to marketing Etsy stores in the queer crafts movement.
