Beyond Knitting
Embroidery as Art in Edinburgh
Hannah Cassels Lorimer and Sir Everard im Thurn by John Henry Lorimer, 1895, Kellie Castle, Fife.
When Elyza Fraser inherited Castle Fraser from her brother at the age of 58, she had plans. She and her life-long friend, Mary Bristow, could finally embark on their horticultural dreams.
After a life traveling across Europe, they could literally put down roots and till their own soil. Eliza and Mary could also enjoy the many household linens which they had carefully made to decorate and warm Castle Fraser.
As they continued to plant trailing vines and flowers with their needles and threads, they would now also plant with forks and spades.
Flower detail of bed valances sewn by Mary Bristow and Elyza Fraser, 1795-1805, Castle Fraser, Aberdeenshire.
Elyza Fraser and Mary Bristow represent thousands of women of different classes and abilities whose work informs the exhibit Stitched: Scottish Embroidered Art, 1720 – 1920 at Dovecot Studios in Edinburgh.
From the finest materials covered in the tiniest of stitches to the humble wool blanket decorated in broad strokes, these textiles enlivened homes from the humble croft to the grand castle. They also played an essential role in banishing drafts, cushioning seats, warming beds, and shielding faces from roaring fires.
Fire Screen, Maker Unknown, 1720, Newhailes, East Lothian.
One of the most exciting parts of the exhibit (aside from the textiles themselves) is the way the curators have highlighted the stories of the makers if their stories are known. Because of this approach, we can learn the story of crofter Mary (May) Sandison, whose livelihood depended entirely on sewing and embroidering textiles for Lady Aberdeen, mistress of the Scottish Palladian Haddo House.
Table cover by Mary and May Sandison, 1880-83, Haddo House, Aberdeenshire, on loan from Lord Aberdeen.
Such a relationship was beneficial to both families. Haddo House was full of textiles, which made it comfortable and showed the rooms at their best. And crofter Sandison had a dependable source of income for life. The women who lived in the castle often plied their needles, too, especially to create gifts and textiles for special occasions like a wedding or a birth.
Pin cushion and tray cloths, 1890s, Ishbel Hamilton-Gordon, Marchioness of Aberdeen, Haddo House, Aberdeenshire.
It’s not hard to imagine a whole country full of stitchers, because until recently, if you wanted a curtain, soft chair, bed covering, fire screen, or any of a number of common textiles, you had to make them.
And if you wanted them to be decorative as well as functional, you had to embroider them yourself or hire someone to do so. Though there was some trade in ready-made coverings and spreads, these were only for the very rich, which is why such luxuries were often bequeathed in wills before the 20th century.
Sampler by Janet Dalrymple, 1740, Newhailes, East Lothian.
Given the time and training it took to embroider these textiles, the results were treated with respect—made to last and mended when necessary. They were often hung in spaces subject to cold, damp, and soot. The fact that any survive for us museum-goers shows their sturdiness.
Take, for instance, this blanket which has been trimmed and reframed first as a curtain and then as a runner. With each generation of wear or mishap, something new has been fashioned.
Blanket attributed to Lady Mary Dalyell, 1900-20, House of the Binns, West Lothian.
I have to admit, my very favorite embroidery consisted of worms! No two worms alike. I immediately thought of Kay’s child-sized picture cardigan inspired by PickyFemme. What about a worm cardigan?
Cloth from Wright & Mansfield, 1890s, Embroiderer Unknown, Haddo House, Aberdeenshire.
And, of course, our fascination with animals like dogs, hares, and squirrels is nothing new. Just look at these furry friends from Kellie Castle in Fife.
Embroidery, Maker Unknown, 1680-1700, Kellie Castle, Fife.
A Scottish lady or crofter couldn’t simply run out to Macy’s or Anthropologie and pick up a lushly decorated curtain or quilt. Such availability of homewares and mass production of textiles only took off in the 20th century, which, of course, has had the downside of cheaper materials, non-recyclable manmade materials, and mountains of textile waste.
Whichever textiles didn’t survive their tenure in Scottish crofts and castles, descended into the extensive British rag trade to furnish other dwellings, to become garments or undergarments, or to be shredded into fibers for paper making and shoddy fabric.
Wool, cotton, silk, and linen. These are the fibers these embroiderers knew —fibers that would return to the soil when they’d served their purpose. The embroidery on this wool blanket is literally hanging by a thread.
Witney Blanket, Oxfordshire, 1890, Embroiderer Unknown, Craigievar Castle, Aberdeenshire.
It seems to me that Elyza Fraser and Mary Bristow would have liked the circularity of plant- and protein-based cloth—their stitched vines and flowers eventually feeding the living ones in a garden. But, luckily for us, some of their work, as well as that of their fellow stitchers, survives today so that we can enjoy their embroidered gardens and menageries for decades to come.
Mary Margaret Leith-Hay (1797-1859), Detail of a Wool Work Dog Picture, Leith Hall, Aberdeenshire.
The exhibit runs through the January 18th. There is also a book about the exhibit published by Dovecot, which makes a wonderful resource for those who can’t see the embroidery in person.
Come Shop With Us
We say nowadays that we don’t have time for such things, but consider that these women had to do everything manually. Cooking over a wood fire with vegetables and chickens they raised and butchered themselves, washing all that laundry by hand, etc., yet they found time (or made time) for making beautiful embroidery.
About textile waste: I discovered a site called FabScraps that works with fashion houses and sells their leftover scraps and production garments for a very affordable price. I ordered a box of garments from them and received several shirts with only one sleeve, a pair of pants with a tear, and even a ready to wear sweater. I can use my sewing skills learned from Alabama Chanin to upcycle the one-sleeved garments, and possibly visible mending for the pants. I definitely recommend checking them out if you sew.
For what it’s worth: a lot of middle and upper class women had household help that did *a lot* of the heavy household lifting. Daily life was so much more labor intensive for everyone, even if you had help, granted.
I love FabScrap! Half my summer shirts are made from their cloth, hand sewn and often embroidered. And I’m always eyeing those mendable clothing items…
Oh! This is so fascinating, Jeni – Thanks for a wonderful post. Interesting not only for the historical notes on the embroidery but also for the references to 18th and 19th century Scotland.
I love the history of textiles! My home town has a rich history in carpets. In the late 1800s a man named Halcyon Skinner, a prolific inventor, joined the team at the Alexander Carpet Mills where he invented new ways to weave carpet. Until his arrival, everything was hand woven with several workers on each loom. Ultimately, he automated the process and the factory went from 100 workers to 7000 (each working two looms seamlessly) and the out put increased exponentially. Until then, carpet was insulation for the homes of the wealthy. His innovations made it for the masses, improving the health and quality of life of the regular Joes and Janes. He also invented space dying so think of that the next time you’re getting a kick out of a self-patterning yarn. Unfortunately, he got run over by a train.
On a trip this summer I had a wonderful visit to Dovecot Studios(alerted by one of Jeni Hankins’ previous posts!). Thanks so much for this virtual return visit. It’s such a delightful space!
Another way impoverished crofter women made money was straw plaiting. Family legend has it that one of my Orkney Island ancestors was sent to plaiting school (a charitable enterprise to help the indigent) in the early 1800s, where she was taught to plait straw and make straw bonnets. Think Regency fashion. One of my earliest memories is of my great-grandmother, grandmother and mom sitting around talking in grandma’s sunny back yard while plaiting straw and making a straw bonnet for toddler me. Mom and I just watched. At that age I was more impressed by the bunch of dime-store fake violets they sewed onto the ribbon than that they made a straw bonnet from scratch in a single afternoon.
Thank you for showcasing these beauties! It’s so wonderful when information is know about the makers. The history is fascinating. So often with textiles, there is very little known about who or why they were made. Thanks for sharing this show with us.
Imagine doing this very fine hand work without much good lighting and probably, as eyes aged, no glasses. Amazing.
Amazing. I am officially gobsmacked. How I wish I could just flit on over to Edinburgh?
Love this! Thanks! And some of the comments are good too 🙂
Yes this is the painterly sense of colour that I wish I had. Look at those flowy perfect threads. Desperately seeking a creative retreat, with cozy cabin and unlimited tea, to explore my ideas and refine my senses.
Thank you much for this article!! I used to embroider on a regular basis in the 1970s and ’80s, but left it for cross stitch and knitting. I love these pictures. Embroidery takes time and the right tension in the material, so your stitches don’t pucker.
Lovely!!
So sad the exhibition book is sold out! So your post is all the more special; thank you for sharing. Not sure I have the temperament needed to do the fine embroidery myself, but I do enjoy seeing it and appreciate the skill and artistry of the creators.
Dovecot Studios is a treasure that fiber art lovers visiting Edinburgh shouldn’t miss. I was able to squeeze in a visit last October 2023 and see an exhibit of Scottish WomanPainters.
Having just been to Scotland in October and also enjoying fiber art of any kind since my teens this article was close to my heart. I bought some wool yarn in Edinburgh and knit mittens through Scotland along with embroidered Thistle on top of the mitten. Scotland inspired.
Thanks for another textile tour, Jeni!
As usual, your reports are so good! This is just fascinating.
I used to live in Edinburgh when I attended the University of Edinburgh there, spending a fair amount of time embroidering with my friends, actually (long before I took up knitting). I would have loved to see this exhibit. Hopefully the National Trust brings the book back into print.