I fell in love with embroidery in high school. At the time, I was stitching mandalas on the back of jean jackets because it was the 1970s. I can’t really remember a time I wasn’t doing some sort of craft with my hands, and embroidery has stuck with me as having the longest thread throughout my life. It’s woven itself through everything. Stitching was easy to pick up and put down when I had small children running around, and it has always given me a way to slow down when things are moving too fast.
I began using thread in a different way over 25 years ago. At the time, I was doing figurative work creating narratives around trauma in my life and I couldn’t get some of the detail I wanted just using the thread. So, I began mixing threadwork with paint. It was a unique technique and gave me so much to play with. This different way of working became my signature style and still carries through my work today.
While raising children in New Jersey, I spent seven years as the executive director of a small community art school. There, I got to really play with different materials — taking studio classes in metals, glass, clay, paint and pastels. I was surrounded by art and artists every day. It was the place where I became intensely aware of my imposter syndrome. The professional faculty I worked with all had art degrees and resumes and I didn’t, so I thought I couldn’t call myself an artist. And yet, there I was creating art.
Eventually, I was able to embrace the fact that I am really good at what I do and I have my own artistic voice. I started exhibiting my work and had my first solo show, which was a pivotal moment.
After my children launched, I moved up to western Mass, got a part-time job, and made a commitment to myself to work harder to exhibit and sell my work. Initially, I spent time refinishing furniture I picked up off the side of the road, making crazy quilted and embroidered seat cushions, and painting everything wild and crazy colors. Schlepping furniture to craft fairs was a little too challenging, so I morphed into wearable art and embellished jewelry, selling that alongside my 2D thread and paint pieces. Frankly, none of it sold well and the traditional art and craft fairs were a lot of work and very demoralizing.
It all changed when I found brains.
Ten years ago, I was invited to a fiber art show in a gallery with no particular theme. I was primarily doing florals and abstracts and was searching for a different idea. My partner, improv guru and motivational speaker Izzy Gesell, very casually said, “Have you ever thought about doing a brain?”
And I thought: Hmmm — that is a really interesting idea.
I came home and started looking at imagery online. I was also working at a college supporting neuroscientists who were trying to get funding for their research, so I was actually immersed in reading neuroscience proposals. I decided to do those first two brain pieces for the exhibit, and I fell in love with the subject matter. That offhand question by my partner completely upended my studio practice and I have not created anything except brain/ neuro art in the last 10 years.
A colleague at the college saw the original brains hanging in my office and commissioned me to make a third piece that would reflect the missing half of her daughter’s brain — surgically removed over 20 years ago to stop epileptic seizures that couldn’t be controlled any other way. Then a pediatric neurosurgeon discovered my work online and enthusiastically purchased several pieces. The neuroscientists I was supporting at the college encouraged me to exhibit at the Society for Neuroscience annual conference.
I am now one of a dozen artists who show regularly at this international conference that attracts 30,000 neuroscientists annually. In recent years, I’ve been commissioned by neuroscientists and neurologists to create pieces reflecting their specialties. I’ve also had individuals with brain illness send me their MRIs to work with. It is extremely exciting to be a part of someone else’s journey in such a palpable way. Now my only imposter syndrome is about whether I know enough about neuroscience.
PHOTO BY ISABELLA DELLOLIO
One of the highlights along the way was participating in The Brain Project in Toronto, Canada, in 2017. I was one of 100 artists chosen to decorate a large 3D brain sculpture. I covered the piece with fabric collage and embroidery. It was exhibited on the streets of Toronto that summer and has been included in several other exhibitions. The piece I created, Not Forgotten, was in memory of my stepmother, Elaine, who passed more than a decade ago from Parkinson’s with dementia.
From microscopic neurons to whole fantastic brains, I still work with the same materials I have used most of my life: fabric, thread and paint. I sell the originals and also use that imagery to create prints, notecards and stickers — as well as brain-shaped earrings. I’ve also designed a line of brain-shaped enamel pins.
Immersed in the world of brain injury, illness, neurology and neuroscience, I’ve come to understand how prevalent neurologic conditions are — one in six people has a neurologic condition in their lifetime. I’ve also been able to help inspire and educate people along the way.
In 2022, I developed a neurological condition myself, called vestibular neuronitis, which greatly affected my balance. Initially, I couldn’t walk or drive. Through regular vestibular physical therapy, I have regained most of what I lost, but I still struggle with it occasionally. Already being immersed in the neuro world made it much easier to understand what was going on and to cope with it.
In the future, I don’t see myself leaving the neuro world. I’m still so fascinated — however, I’d like to work on a much bigger scale. The largest piece I’ve made to date is 36-inches-by-48-inches, commissioned for a large neuro collection at a hospital in Texas. I’d love to get even bigger, and I’d also like to expand how I’m using my materials. I still use thread and needle in a fairly traditional way when I’m embroidering and I’d like to expand those horizons, perhaps finding yet another unique way of creating my art.
Process of making Out of the Blue
1. My process begins by looking for inspirational material. My favorite source is The Human Brain, a book by Rita Carter that includes great imagery and information on all parts of the brain. For this particular piece, I decided to concentrate on a fantastical neuron with a mirror as the nucleus in the center of the cell body.
2. Then I head to the studio to sort through colors of fabric scraps I have collected over the years. I start by picking my basic palette, and then laying down a collage of fabric in the basic shape that I want as the central element of the piece. This part of the process is intuitive, quick and improvisational. Once I have everything laid down just right, I use a spray-on glue to temporarily affix the pieces to the canvas.
3. When the final shape is ready on the canvas, I head to the sewing machine with the piece and stitch down all of the fabric in an invisible thread with zigzag stitching on every raw edge of the piece. This prevents fraying and protects the integrity of the shape.
4. Color is extremely important in my work, so choosing embroidery thread is a part of the process and takes a lot of time. Although I have hundreds of skeins of thread in my studio already, no piece is quite complete without a trip to the store to get that perfect shade.
5. The embroidery itself is the single most time-consuming portion of my work and generally takes several weeks to complete. It takes roughly an hour to do a square inch of embroidery. I start at the center of the neuron, embroidering the mirror down using a traditional shisha stitch, and then work my way out to all the edges using both a long and short stitch and satin stitch. I use a plastic snap-together frame for the embroidery and my cat Ben is often on the couch by my side as I work. He is not allowed in my studio, but much of my work is done in the living room of my home with him by my side.
6–7. Once the embroidery is complete, I stretch the canvas onto wooden stretcher bars and then I am ready to paint around the fiber work. This requires the smallest of brushes, especially on a piece like this that has so many little areas that
need to be painted.
8. First come two layers of gesso to size the canvas and lay a foundation for the color to come. I work in acrylic paint as I love the nontoxic quality, the ease of cleanup, and the ability to repaint quickly. I often change direction in the middle of the road. At this point, I only have a vague idea of where I am going to end up. I knew I wanted to represent the central neuron with a background that included a neural network — neurons do not exist alone — but it took a lot of iterations before I was happy with the background.
9. I chose to finish this piece with some gold paint and Swarovski crystals glued into place, representing the interplay of firing neurons in the background. The title Out of the Blue was suggested by a social media follower as a tribute to all of us who have come through neurological conditions. I couldn’t have picked a better one.
PHOTO BY ISABELLA DELLOLIO
I fell in love with embroidery in high school. At the time, I was stitching mandalas on the back of jean jackets because it was the 1970s. I can’t really remember a time I wasn’t doing some sort of craft with my hands, and embroidery has stuck with me as having the longest thread throughout my life. It’s woven itself through everything. Stitching was easy to pick up and put down when I had small children running around, and it has always given me a way to slow down when things are moving too fast.
I began using thread in a different way over 25 years ago. At the time, I was doing figurative work creating narratives around trauma in my life and I couldn’t get some of the detail I wanted just using the thread. So, I began mixing threadwork with paint. It was a unique technique and gave me so much to play with. This different way of working became my signature style and still carries through my work today.
While raising children in New Jersey, I spent seven years as the executive director of a small community art school. There, I got to really play with different materials — taking studio classes in metals, glass, clay, paint and pastels. I was surrounded by art and artists every day. It was the place where I became intensely aware of my imposter syndrome. The professional faculty I worked with all had art degrees and resumes and I didn’t, so I thought I couldn’t call myself an artist. And yet, there I was creating art.
Eventually, I was able to embrace the fact that I am really good at what I do and I have my own artistic voice. I started exhibiting my work and had my first solo show, which was a pivotal moment.
After my children launched, I moved up to western Mass, got a part-time job, and made a commitment to myself to work harder to exhibit and sell my work. Initially, I spent time refinishing furniture I picked up off the side of the road, making crazy quilted and embroidered seat cushions, and painting everything wild and crazy colors. Schlepping furniture to craft fairs was a little too challenging, so I morphed into wearable art and embellished jewelry, selling that alongside my 2D thread and paint pieces. Frankly, none of it sold well and the traditional art and craft fairs were a lot of work and very demoralizing.
It all changed when I found brains.
Ten years ago, I was invited to a fiber art show in a gallery with no particular theme. I was primarily doing florals and abstracts and was searching for a different idea. My partner, improv guru and motivational speaker Izzy Gesell, very casually said, “Have you ever thought about doing a brain?”
And I thought: Hmmm — that is a really interesting idea.
I came home and started looking at imagery online. I was also working at a college supporting neuroscientists who were trying to get funding for their research, so I was actually immersed in reading neuroscience proposals. I decided to do those first two brain pieces for the exhibit, and I fell in love with the subject matter. That offhand question by my partner completely upended my studio practice and I have not created anything except brain/ neuro art in the last 10 years.
A colleague at the college saw the original brains hanging in my office and commissioned me to make a third piece that would reflect the missing half of her daughter’s brain — surgically removed over 20 years ago to stop epileptic seizures that couldn’t be controlled any other way. Then a pediatric neurosurgeon discovered my work online and enthusiastically purchased several pieces. The neuroscientists I was supporting at the college encouraged me to exhibit at the Society for Neuroscience annual conference.
I am now one of a dozen artists who show regularly at this international conference that attracts 30,000 neuroscientists annually. In recent years, I’ve been commissioned by neuroscientists and neurologists to create pieces reflecting their specialties. I’ve also had individuals with brain illness send me their MRIs to work with. It is extremely exciting to be a part of someone else’s journey in such a palpable way. Now my only imposter syndrome is about whether I know enough about neuroscience.
PHOTO BY ISABELLA DELLOLIO
One of the highlights along the way was participating in The Brain Project in Toronto, Canada, in 2017. I was one of 100 artists chosen to decorate a large 3D brain sculpture. I covered the piece with fabric collage and embroidery. It was exhibited on the streets of Toronto that summer and has been included in several other exhibitions. The piece I created, Not Forgotten, was in memory of my stepmother, Elaine, who passed more than a decade ago from Parkinson’s with dementia.
From microscopic neurons to whole fantastic brains, I still work with the same materials I have used most of my life: fabric, thread and paint. I sell the originals and also use that imagery to create prints, notecards and stickers — as well as brain-shaped earrings. I’ve also designed a line of brain-shaped enamel pins.
Immersed in the world of brain injury, illness, neurology and neuroscience, I’ve come to understand how prevalent neurologic conditions are — one in six people has a neurologic condition in their lifetime. I’ve also been able to help inspire and educate people along the way.
In 2022, I developed a neurological condition myself, called vestibular neuronitis, which greatly affected my balance. Initially, I couldn’t walk or drive. Through regular vestibular physical therapy, I have regained most of what I lost, but I still struggle with it occasionally. Already being immersed in the neuro world made it much easier to understand what was going on and to cope with it.
In the future, I don’t see myself leaving the neuro world. I’m still so fascinated — however, I’d like to work on a much bigger scale. The largest piece I’ve made to date is 36-inches-by-48-inches, commissioned for a large neuro collection at a hospital in Texas. I’d love to get even bigger, and I’d also like to expand how I’m using my materials. I still use thread and needle in a fairly traditional way when I’m embroidering and I’d like to expand those horizons, perhaps finding yet another unique way of creating my art.
Process of making Out of the Blue
1. My process begins by looking for inspirational material. My favorite source is The Human Brain, a book by Rita Carter that includes great imagery and information on all parts of the brain. For this particular piece, I decided to concentrate on a fantastical neuron with a mirror as the nucleus in the center of the cell body.
2. Then I head to the studio to sort through colors of fabric scraps I have collected over the years. I start by picking my basic palette, and then laying down a collage of fabric in the basic shape that I want as the central element of the piece. This part of the process is intuitive, quick and improvisational. Once I have everything laid down just right, I use a spray-on glue to temporarily affix the pieces to the canvas.
3. When the final shape is ready on the canvas, I head to the sewing machine with the piece and stitch down all of the fabric in an invisible thread with zigzag stitching on every raw edge of the piece. This prevents fraying and protects the integrity of the shape.
4. Color is extremely important in my work, so choosing embroidery thread is a part of the process and takes a lot of time. Although I have hundreds of skeins of thread in my studio already, no piece is quite complete without a trip to the store to get that perfect shade.
5. The embroidery itself is the single most time-consuming portion of my work and generally takes several weeks to complete. It takes roughly an hour to do a square inch of embroidery. I start at the center of the neuron, embroidering the mirror down using a traditional shisha stitch, and then work my way out to all the edges using both a long and short stitch and satin stitch. I use a plastic snap-together frame for the embroidery and my cat Ben is often on the couch by my side as I work. He is not allowed in my studio, but much of my work is done in the living room of my home with him by my side.
6–7. Once the embroidery is complete, I stretch the canvas onto wooden stretcher bars and then I am ready to paint around the fiber work. This requires the smallest of brushes, especially on a piece like this that has so many little areas that
need to be painted.
8. First come two layers of gesso to size the canvas and lay a foundation for the color to come. I work in acrylic paint as I love the nontoxic quality, the ease of cleanup, and the ability to repaint quickly. I often change direction in the middle of the road. At this point, I only have a vague idea of where I am going to end up. I knew I wanted to represent the central neuron with a background that included a neural network — neurons do not exist alone — but it took a lot of iterations before I was happy with the background.
9. I chose to finish this piece with some gold paint and Swarovski crystals glued into place, representing the interplay of firing neurons in the background. The title Out of the Blue was suggested by a social media follower as a tribute to all of us who have come through neurological conditions. I couldn’t have picked a better one.
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PHOTO BY ISABELLA DELLOLIO
I fell in love with embroidery in high school. At the time, I was stitching mandalas on the back of jean jackets because it was the 1970s. I can’t really remember a time I wasn’t doing some sort of craft with my hands, and embroidery has stuck with me as having the longest thread throughout my life. It’s woven itself through everything. Stitching was easy to pick up and put down when I had small children running around, and it has always given me a way to slow down when things are moving too fast.
I began using thread in a different way over 25 years ago. At the time, I was doing figurative work creating narratives around trauma in my life and I couldn’t get some of the detail I wanted just using the thread. So, I began mixing threadwork with paint. It was a unique technique and gave me so much to play with. This different way of working became my signature style and still carries through my work today.
While raising children in New Jersey, I spent seven years as the executive director of a small community art school. There, I got to really play with different materials — taking studio classes in metals, glass, clay, paint and pastels. I was surrounded by art and artists every day. It was the place where I became intensely aware of my imposter syndrome. The professional faculty I worked with all had art degrees and resumes and I didn’t, so I thought I couldn’t call myself an artist. And yet, there I was creating art.
Eventually, I was able to embrace the fact that I am really good at what I do and I have my own artistic voice. I started exhibiting my work and had my first solo show, which was a pivotal moment.
After my children launched, I moved up to western Mass, got a part-time job, and made a commitment to myself to work harder to exhibit and sell my work. Initially, I spent time refinishing furniture I picked up off the side of the road, making crazy quilted and embroidered seat cushions, and painting everything wild and crazy colors. Schlepping furniture to craft fairs was a little too challenging, so I morphed into wearable art and embellished jewelry, selling that alongside my 2D thread and paint pieces. Frankly, none of it sold well and the traditional art and craft fairs were a lot of work and very demoralizing.
It all changed when I found brains.
Ten years ago, I was invited to a fiber art show in a gallery with no particular theme. I was primarily doing florals and abstracts and was searching for a different idea. My partner, improv guru and motivational speaker Izzy Gesell, very casually said, “Have you ever thought about doing a brain?”
And I thought: Hmmm — that is a really interesting idea.
I came home and started looking at imagery online. I was also working at a college supporting neuroscientists who were trying to get funding for their research, so I was actually immersed in reading neuroscience proposals. I decided to do those first two brain pieces for the exhibit, and I fell in love with the subject matter. That offhand question by my partner completely upended my studio practice and I have not created anything except brain/ neuro art in the last 10 years.
A colleague at the college saw the original brains hanging in my office and commissioned me to make a third piece that would reflect the missing half of her daughter’s brain — surgically removed over 20 years ago to stop epileptic seizures that couldn’t be controlled any other way. Then a pediatric neurosurgeon discovered my work online and enthusiastically purchased several pieces. The neuroscientists I was supporting at the college encouraged me to exhibit at the Society for Neuroscience annual conference.
I am now one of a dozen artists who show regularly at this international conference that attracts 30,000 neuroscientists annually. In recent years, I’ve been commissioned by neuroscientists and neurologists to create pieces reflecting their specialties. I’ve also had individuals with brain illness send me their MRIs to work with. It is extremely exciting to be a part of someone else’s journey in such a palpable way. Now my only imposter syndrome is about whether I know enough about neuroscience.
PHOTO BY ISABELLA DELLOLIO
One of the highlights along the way was participating in The Brain Project in Toronto, Canada, in 2017. I was one of 100 artists chosen to decorate a large 3D brain sculpture. I covered the piece with fabric collage and embroidery. It was exhibited on the streets of Toronto that summer and has been included in several other exhibitions. The piece I created, Not Forgotten, was in memory of my stepmother, Elaine, who passed more than a decade ago from Parkinson’s with dementia.
From microscopic neurons to whole fantastic brains, I still work with the same materials I have used most of my life: fabric, thread and paint. I sell the originals and also use that imagery to create prints, notecards and stickers — as well as brain-shaped earrings. I’ve also designed a line of brain-shaped enamel pins.
Immersed in the world of brain injury, illness, neurology and neuroscience, I’ve come to understand how prevalent neurologic conditions are — one in six people has a neurologic condition in their lifetime. I’ve also been able to help inspire and educate people along the way.
In 2022, I developed a neurological condition myself, called vestibular neuronitis, which greatly affected my balance. Initially, I couldn’t walk or drive. Through regular vestibular physical therapy, I have regained most of what I lost, but I still struggle with it occasionally. Already being immersed in the neuro world made it much easier to understand what was going on and to cope with it.
In the future, I don’t see myself leaving the neuro world. I’m still so fascinated — however, I’d like to work on a much bigger scale. The largest piece I’ve made to date is 36-inches-by-48-inches, commissioned for a large neuro collection at a hospital in Texas. I’d love to get even bigger, and I’d also like to expand how I’m using my materials. I still use thread and needle in a fairly traditional way when I’m embroidering and I’d like to expand those horizons, perhaps finding yet another unique way of creating my art.
Process of making Out of the Blue
1. My process begins by looking for inspirational material. My favorite source is The Human Brain, a book by Rita Carter that includes great imagery and information on all parts of the brain. For this particular piece, I decided to concentrate on a fantastical neuron with a mirror as the nucleus in the center of the cell body.
2. Then I head to the studio to sort through colors of fabric scraps I have collected over the years. I start by picking my basic palette, and then laying down a collage of fabric in the basic shape that I want as the central element of the piece. This part of the process is intuitive, quick and improvisational. Once I have everything laid down just right, I use a spray-on glue to temporarily affix the pieces to the canvas.
3. When the final shape is ready on the canvas, I head to the sewing machine with the piece and stitch down all of the fabric in an invisible thread with zigzag stitching on every raw edge of the piece. This prevents fraying and protects the integrity of the shape.
4. Color is extremely important in my work, so choosing embroidery thread is a part of the process and takes a lot of time. Although I have hundreds of skeins of thread in my studio already, no piece is quite complete without a trip to the store to get that perfect shade.
5. The embroidery itself is the single most time-consuming portion of my work and generally takes several weeks to complete. It takes roughly an hour to do a square inch of embroidery. I start at the center of the neuron, embroidering the mirror down using a traditional shisha stitch, and then work my way out to all the edges using both a long and short stitch and satin stitch. I use a plastic snap-together frame for the embroidery and my cat Ben is often on the couch by my side as I work. He is not allowed in my studio, but much of my work is done in the living room of my home with him by my side.
6–7. Once the embroidery is complete, I stretch the canvas onto wooden stretcher bars and then I am ready to paint around the fiber work. This requires the smallest of brushes, especially on a piece like this that has so many little areas that
need to be painted.
8. First come two layers of gesso to size the canvas and lay a foundation for the color to come. I work in acrylic paint as I love the nontoxic quality, the ease of cleanup, and the ability to repaint quickly. I often change direction in the middle of the road. At this point, I only have a vague idea of where I am going to end up. I knew I wanted to represent the central neuron with a background that included a neural network — neurons do not exist alone — but it took a lot of iterations before I was happy with the background.
9. I chose to finish this piece with some gold paint and Swarovski crystals glued into place, representing the interplay of firing neurons in the background. The title Out of the Blue was suggested by a social media follower as a tribute to all of us who have come through neurological conditions. I couldn’t have picked a better one.
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