When Handmade Becomes Part of Your Story

Earlier today I was struggling. I knew I wanted to create something and to write, but I didn't know how to write what I wanted or how to put my thoughts down on paper.

So I did what I often encourage other people to do. I stepped away from the screen, made myself a cacao, sat in the garden and simply listened.

As I settled, I found myself thinking about the book I'm currently reading, Art Cure: The Science of How the Arts Transforms Our Health by Dr Daisy Fancourt. Although I'm only at the beginning, it's already exploring something I've believed for a long time – that creativity isn't simply a nice hobby. It's something that can support our wellbeing in ways we're only just beginning to fully understand.

And it made me think about the pieces I make for other people.

I've written before about how making macramé has helped my own mental wellbeing. It's given me space to slow down, process difficult days and reconnect with myself.

But this time I found myself looking at it from a different perspective.

What happens after a piece leaves my hands?

While I'm still early in the book and looking forward to learning more about the research, it made me wonder whether the value of handmade pieces isn't only in the making, but also in the living with them.

The book has prompted me to think about something else too.

The things we choose to surround ourselves with matter.

Not because they're expensive or perfectly made, but because they become part of our everyday lives. They quietly become part of the spaces where we laugh, rest, celebrate, work and simply are.

As I sat there, I realised I wasn't really thinking about macramé.

I was thinking about trust.

The very first macramé piece I ever made wasn't something I'd planned.

The first wall hanging I was asked to make.

Someone simply asked me, "Can you do macramé?"

I didn't actually know the answer.

So I said yes and worked it out.

That one question changed the direction of my life.

The person who asked me became one of my biggest cheerleaders. She sadly isn't here to see where that one question eventually led, but I often think about how different things might have been if she hadn't believed in me before I believed in myself.

Looking back now, it feels fitting that my own journey began because somebody trusted me to create something that didn't yet exist.

Every custom piece I've made since has begun in much the same way.

Not with a finished design.

With a conversation.

When people hear the words "custom order", I think they often imagine a huge statement piece or a gift for a special occasion. Something expensive. Something they have to have completely designed in their head before they get in touch.

The truth is, that's rarely how it works.

Most conversations begin with something much simpler.

"I really like this, but could I have it in a different colour?"

"I'm not sure if this is something you do..."

"I've got a space that I can't quite find the right thing for."

Sometimes it's creating a wall hanging for a newly decorated bedroom and talking through colours until we find the one that feels just right. Sometimes it's making a set of personalised key rings in colours that match a new office, each one finished with the recipient's initial. Other times it's creating something completely new because nothing quite exists that solves the problem.

None of those people arrived with a finished design.

We talked.

We exchanged ideas.

We chose colours.

We adjusted sizes.

Slowly, an idea became something they could actually touch.

Those conversations are one of my favourite parts of the process.

It's where the creativity really begins.

They aren't just about measurements or colours. They're about getting to know the person, understanding the space, and helping an idea become something real through conversations.

There is a trust that we’d find the right answer together.

If I'm honest, creating something for one person feels different.

I feel a little pressure to make what they have in their head a reality, but I also feel pride in myself that someone trusts me to create something that will become part of their home, their garden or their everyday life.

Reading Art Cure has made me wonder whether the value of handmade pieces doesn't end when the final knot is tied.

Perhaps it continues every time someone walks into the room, hangs up their keys, notices the wall that suddenly feels complete or smiles because something was created especially for them.

I don't know the science behind that yet.

But I have a feeling there's something rather special in it.

Because that's the moment when handmade stops being something you've bought...

...and becomes part of your story.

If you've ever looked at a wall, a corner or a space in your home or garden and thought, 

"I wish I could find something that feels right there," 

Perhaps the answer isn't finding it.

Perhaps it's creating it together.