Derbyshire Flax Heritage At The Museum Of Making

I began at the end, with a table of what I call my ‘flaxy treasures’. On Saturday 25 July 2026, around 30 people joined me at the Museum of Making in Derby for ‘Let’s Flax: The Heritage of Flax to Fabric Production in Derbyshire’. The Museum promoted the event in association with its ‘Field to Fashion’ exhibition, described as a STEAM project and supported by Art Fund and Rolls-Royce. Across the two hour illustrated and practical presentation, we explored the flax plant, the fibre inside its stem, the products made from linen and Derbyshire’s history of growing and processing the crop.

Amanda Haran Presenting ‘Let’s Flax’ At The Museum Of Making In Derby

The audience included artists, representatives from local community interest companies, members of a local archaeological society, people from Alfreton’s creative community, museum visitors and a visitor who works at Liberty London. I was also pleased to welcome the Deputy Mayor and Mayoress of Ripley as honoured guests. Ripley has a direct connection with this history through the former British Hemp & Flax Development Co Ltd, which operated on Heage Road during Britain’s wartime flax production. With knowledge of textiles, archaeology, community work and local history already in the room, the presentation quickly became a shared conversation rather than a one way account.

Beginning With My Flaxy Treasures

My ‘flaxy treasures’ included linen and flax products, primarily connected with the Second World War. I brought fine linen of the type used to cover aircraft, webbing and strapping, sailcloth, woven flax hose and other examples of the strong industrial textiles once made from the plant. Beginning with the finished materials showed the audience where our journey was going to end before we returned to the seed, stem and fibre. The smooth aircraft linen, dense webbing and heavy sailcloth seemed far removed from the dry retted stalks that would later be cracked open by hand.

Rather than keeping the objects at the front of the room, I passed them around so they could be studied closely. People felt their different weights, compared the surfaces and looked at the construction of each weave. The woven flax hose attracted particular interest because the example I brought had no rubber lining. When wet, the flax fibres swell and the weave closes, helping the hose become watertight.

A glass bottle containing retted flax was passed around at the same time, allowing everyone to experience its distinctive smell. Later, they would hear the dry stems crack, feel pieces of woody shive fall away and see the long fibres begin to appear. I wanted the session to use sight, touch, smell and sound alongside listening, discussion and practical activity. Flax becomes easier to understand when the material is in front of you and in your hands.

Returning To The Plant

From the finished products, we returned to flax as a living plant. I had brought a bucket containing ‘Northern Lass’, the Scottish flax variety I had grown, and placed it beside taller dried stems from fibre flax varieties. My particular crop of ‘Northern Lass’ was visibly shorter, giving the room an immediate comparison between plants rather than relying on photographs or measurements alone. It opened a discussion about variety, soil, water, weather and the many growing conditions that can affect stem height and the potential length of the fibre.

The bucket also allowed me to share what I had observed through growing flax myself. Home grown flax does not arrive as a neat and uniform material, and two plants from the same crop can behave differently. Some stems are thick, some are fine, and their height and strength can vary across a small growing space. That irregularity is part of the practical knowledge I am developing through my Arts Council England funded project, ‘Irregular Thread’.

We looked at where the long bast fibres sit around the woody centre of a flax stem and how pectins help hold the different parts together. Retting begins to loosen those bonds, making it possible to separate the fibre through breaking, scutching and heckling.

A dry brown stem gives very little away from the outside, yet inside it are fibres capable of becoming linen thread and cloth.

Placing the living plants, retted stems and finished wartime textiles together made the scale of that transformation clear.

Extracting Flax Fibre By Hand

The audience did not only watch a demonstration. Participants were given retted flax stems and invited to extract the fibre for themselves. They bent and cracked the stalks, removed pieces of woody shive and began to uncover the long fibres running through each plant. The tables soon held broken stems, loose shive and small bundles of pale fibre.

The material did not behave in exactly the same way for everyone. Some stems opened more easily, while others held tightly to their woody centres or broke into shorter pieces. People could feel the resistance of the plant and see how much work sits between harvesting flax and producing fibre ready for spinning. There was no expectation that anyone should produce clean or perfect fibre during a first attempt.

Several participants took bundles of retted stalks home so they could continue breaking and processing them in their own time. That mattered because the activity did not have to begin and end within the museum session. Someone could try two or three stems in the room, then return to the bundle later with more time, confidence or quiet. The practical sharing travelled home with them rather than remaining a demonstration they had only watched.

Derbyshire’s Flax Industry

The plant and fibre led us into Derbyshire’s flax history, including the former British Hemp & Flax Development Co Ltd factory on Heage Road in Ripley. Maps, photographs, surviving buildings and historical records helped us consider the scale of the site and its role in Britain’s wartime flax industry. The crop moved through growing, retting, fibre preparation and industrial production before becoming aircraft linen, webbing, sailcloth, hose and other essential materials. Behind each finished product stood land, machinery, transport and a large amount of human labour.

The Deputy Mayor and Mayoress of Ripley brought a direct civic connection to this part of the presentation. Afterwards, they spoke about possible future engagement around Heage and Nether Heage, including the prospect of growing flax there next year. These ideas are still developing, but they could reconnect the living crop with communities close to the former factory. A new patch of flax would not recreate the wartime industry, but it could make that history visible in the landscape once again.

Much of the Ripley factory’s story remains scattered across newspaper reports, parliamentary records, maps, buildings, photographs and local memory. Official records can tell us about production, management and political decisions, but the everyday lives of workers are harder to recover. Conversations with local people can add the details that do not appear in formal archives. A family photograph, remembered nickname or account of a social club can change how we understand the place.

Fashion Fictions & World 259

The presentation also connected Derbyshire’s industrial past with Amy Twigger Holroyd’s ‘Fashion Fictions’ and World 259. I used this imagined textile world as a way to ask what might happen if local fibres, shared skills and regional production became important again. Fiction gives us room to test possibilities without pretending there is a simple route back to a previous industry. It allows a conversation about what parts of a different textile future could be made real.

Derbyshire already has a long relationship with land, industry, making and community organisation. Much of its flax infrastructure has disappeared, but the history, skills and material knowledge have not vanished completely. A renewed relationship with flax might begin on a much smaller scale through gardens, allotments, community growing spaces, artists and local groups. It could start with one box of seeds rather than a factory.

Participation At Arm’s Length And Potentially Mile Deep

I am interested in participation that can remain at arm's length and potentially become mile deep.

Someone might begin by nodding in my general direction while passing a stall, taking a small box of seeds, reading one blog post or watching a short video. Another person might go on to grow flax, extract the fibre, make cordage, weave with it, create a small basket or eventually share seeds from their own harvest. Every point of engagement matters to me.

Lighter participation is not a lesser or failed form of participation. People have different amounts of time, confidence, energy, space, money and access to equipment. There should be no requirement to complete every stage or produce an object before an encounter counts. Someone can move closer to the work, step away and return later when their circumstances allow.

My thinking here has been influenced by Stephen Willats and by my time at the Herbert Art Gallery and Museum. Participation is not always loud, immediate or easy to measure. A short encounter can develop much later in someone’s garden, studio or home. My task is to create clear and inviting routes into the work, remove as many barriers as I can and allow people to decide how far they want to travel.

At the Museum of Making, those routes included listening to the presentation, handling historic textiles, smelling retted flax, comparing plant varieties, extracting fibre, taking stalks home and collecting seeds. People could choose one activity or follow several. Nobody was expected to reach the same point. The session allowed participation to sit anywhere between curiosity and a decision to begin growing, processing and making with flax.

Seeds & Continuing Learning

Flax Seeds Were Offered For People To Grow At Home, With Postcodes Collected To Map Where The s-Seed Gifting Journey Travels Next

At the end of the presentation, I gave away small boxes of flax seeds and invited people to share their postcodes so I could plot where the seeds travelled. I am building an ongoing map of my seed gifting activity, tracing how flax moves into different towns, homes, gardens and communities. The postcodes provide a broad location without requiring anyone to give me a personal address or enter a formal programme. A seed box might be planted, passed to a neighbour, kept for another year or lead to a crop that produces another generation of seed.

Participants were directed to my practical flax growing post and encouraged to keep up with the continuing research shared through this blog. By 29 July 2026, the growing guide had received 382 views. That figure does not mean that 382 people have planted flax, and not every view followed the Museum event, but it provides one measure of interest in accessible information about growing the crop. I will continue recording views alongside messages, photographs and responses from people who decide to sow their seeds.

The audience was also directed to videos on my website showing how to break flax, make cordage and create a mini flax basket. These free resources allow people to revisit the processes at home, pause when they need to and work at their own pace. Someone might only watch the first video, while another person might follow the route from seed to fibre and from fibre to a finished basket. Producing accurate, useful and enticing content helps make deeper participation possible without demanding it.

Sharing My Arts Council England Funded Research

This article forms part of the ongoing research and development learning journal I committed to creating through ‘Irregular Thread’, my Arts Council England funded project. Through the project, I am developing my practical skills in processing, spinning and weaving flax, while learning how variation and irregularity can become deliberate parts of my artistic work. The blog allows me to document experimentation, record creative results and share what I am learning with people beyond my studio. It also gives readers a place to respond, question, contribute knowledge and follow the work over time.

The Museum of Making presentation gave me a substantial opportunity to put that commitment into practice. I shared findings from growing ‘Northern Lass’, demonstrated the structure and processing of retted stems, and supported around 30 people to extract fibre themselves. Participants handled historic materials, took seeds and stalks home, received links to practical resources and contributed their own questions, knowledge and ideas. This was not simply an account of my research, but a public test of how that research could be made accessible through objects, sensory experience, practical activity and free online learning.

The event also helped me consider future workshops. Requests for flax basket making sessions suggest an appetite for deeper practical activity, while the different ways people engaged showed the value of allowing choice. Not everyone needs to use a spinning wheel, a loom or specialist equipment to enter the project. Seeds, stems, hand processing, cordage and small baskets can provide lower cost routes into understanding flax as a plant, fibre and textile material.

What Followed The Presentation

By Monday, messages were already arriving. One said that ‘everyone is saying how excellent it was’, followed by an invitation to meet for coffee and plan something else in the future. Another participant wrote, ‘I really want to grow, make and weave with flax, thanks to your infectious enthusiasm.’ They also expressed a wish to see flax fabric production succeed once more.

There were requests for me to deliver the presentation elsewhere and to run practical flax basket making workshops. A storyteller approached me about writing down the flax heritage of Derbyshire, opening another route for recording and sharing local knowledge. Bundles of retted stems left the museum under people’s arms, while others carried seed boxes, web links and ideas about what they might do next. These are developing conversations rather than confirmed projects, but they provide useful evidence of public interest and possible future partnerships.

The discussion with the Deputy Mayor and Mayoress could lead to engagement around Heage and Nether Heage, close to the former Ripley factory. Further presentations could take the research to new audiences, while basket workshops would offer a more sustained practical route through the material. The storyteller’s interest could help bring archival evidence together with the experiences of ordinary flax people. Each opportunity came from someone finding a different point of connection during the same two hour session.

Carrying Ordinary Flax Stories Forward

My approach to this history is influenced by Ursula K. Le Guin’s ‘Carrier Bag Theory of Fiction’. I do not want Derbyshire’s flax story to be told only through factory owners, government schemes, machines and production totals. I feel a duty to gather the accounts of ordinary flax people, including those who sowed, weeded, pulled, retted, broke, scutched, spun, wove, packed and transported the material.

Their labour and knowledge deserve to be held, prized and carried forward.

Objects, seeds, stems, maps, conversations and family memories all become part of that carrier. A story from a former worker’s family can sit beside a factory plan, a piece of wartime webbing or a newly grown flax plant. I am not trying to produce one neat and final version of Derbyshire’s flax history. I want to make room for many people to add what they know and help carry the story into another generation.

Thank you to the Museum of Making for inviting me, to the Deputy Mayor and Mayoress of Ripley for joining us, and to everyone who listened, questioned, handled, smelt, broke and carried the flax away. I am continuing to gather photographs, objects, documents and family memories connected with the Ripley flax factory and flax or linen production elsewhere in Derbyshire.

Anyone with a story, object or small piece of knowledge is welcome to contact me. One ordinary detail can help return a flax life to the history it helped create.