Falling (Unexpectedly) for Fiber Arts
My ideal state is simple: I want to be experimenting with a new craft.
Even in college, while studying Communication Arts, I was constantly trying to sneak into classes that had nothing to do with my major. I just needed to be making things with my hands. Ceramics, printmaking, anything tactile. I wanted all of it.
Ironically, the one area that never interested me was fiber arts. I’d pass those studios without a trace of curiosity. The looms felt like relics, and sewing machines, fabric, embroidery, knitting, dyeing, even weaving all blurred together, making it easy for me to ignore.
That changed the summer I worked as an art teacher.
There was a loom in the classroom. A massive one. It took up an unreasonable amount of space and mostly collected dust. One day I watched someone actually use it, and something clicked. Slowly, curiosity won. I sat down, pushed the wooden shuttle back and forth, and watched a simple striped pattern begin to appear.
I got the hype.
The rhythm was hypnotic. The repetition felt meditative. Watching fabric slowly grow from thread felt almost magical.
That same summer I learned how to felt. I made a tiny heart, poked myself with the needle about a hundred times, and was completely hooked. Taking a loose ball of wool and shaping it into something recognizable felt equal parts sculpture and magic trick.
Ten Years Later: The Fiber Arts Itch Returns
Fast forward about ten years, and the fiber arts itch came back.
A loom, unfortunately, is not the easiest thing to acquire when you do not live in the 18th century. I searched for workshops nearby but came up empty. Felting, however, was very accessible. A few clicks online and suddenly wool and needles were on my doorstep.
I decided to make felt dog ornaments for my family, each one based on their real dogs.
My goal was two.
I made six.
Each dog took between 7–10 hours, which feels slightly ridiculous in retrospect. Was this because I am a beginner and probably doing everything inefficiently? Almost certainly yes. But the process was strangely addictive. It became the perfect activity for zoning out while watching TV.
I only stabbed myself a few times.
Lessons Learned (The Hard Way)
My biggest mistake was starting every sculpture with a white wool base, regardless of the dog’s actual color. I then layered colored wool on top.
Huge mistake.
It added hours to every single piece. Since I batch-made all the bases first, I could not easily correct the problem later. Had I worked one dog at a time, I would have realized much sooner that matching the base color saves an enormous amount of effort.
At one point, frustration got the best of me and I tried dyeing some of the white bases using henna. It technically worked, but the results were blotchy, slow to dry, and ultimately still required layering colored wool over top anyway.
Lesson learned.
A True Labor of Love
Felting is one of those crafts that sits in a funny category. It is calming, repetitive, and deeply satisfying, but also incredibly time-consuming. These are not objects you casually make in bulk. They are gifts, keepsakes, tiny sculptures made slowly and intentionally.
I loved the process, but it is something I will probably only make on rare ocassions and for people I care about.
Because truly, this is a labor of love.
Craft Rating: Needle Felting 🐶
Time to create (4" x 3" felt dog): 7–10 hours
Ease of learning: 2 / 10, surprisingly easy to pick up
Relaxing / mindless factor: 7 / 10, very meditative until you stab yourself
Suggested craft rating: 7 / 10, easy to store, low space commitment, great for ornaments, gifts, or small toys