Flax, Fibre & Shared Making At Derbyshire Makes Heanor

As Derbyshire Makes in Heanor began, Abigail Wastie and I noticed loose fibres already clinging to the British wool skirts she had made with pupils from Heanor Gate Spencer Academy. They were not from flax, and neither of us had any sense of how much flax, dust and shive would gradually settle across the space as the afternoon and evening unfolded. Hours later, pale strands covered sleeves, tables, chairs and the floor around us after flax breaking, twisting cordage and passing rough handfuls of retted stems from hand to hand. By the end of the day, the flax had worked its way into everything.

Derbyshire Makes brought together screenings of The Nettle Dress, panel discussions and hands on making through a collaborative afternoon and evening centred on fibre, sustainability and material knowledge. Alongside Abi, spinner Sandra, and supported by Make/Shift and the wider Derbyshire Makes team, I introduced visitors to flax through a handling table filled with materials gathered across different stages of the process, from dried stems through to prepared fibre. People were encouraged to touch, break and work with flax grown in my own front garden in Riddings, Derbyshire, while also exploring historical flax related objects and conversations connected to Derbyshire's textile heritage, including the former British Hemp & Flax factory in Ripley.

What I appreciated most throughout the afternoon and evening was the openness of the atmosphere created collectively by everyone involved. Conversations drifted naturally across the film screenings, panel discussions and making tables where many encountered flax for the first time. There was a generosity to the exchanges taking place throughout the space, helped enormously by the warmth and support of the wider Derbyshire Makes and Make/Shift teams. Rather than feeling formal, the afternoon and evening unfolded in a way that felt welcoming, relaxed and genuinely curious.

At one point, bowls of nettle soup began appearing alongside the flax and fibres spread across the tables. Regional folk music drifted through the space while silent black and white British Pathé flax films played between screenings of The Nettle Dress.

Small moments like that stayed with me afterwards because they reflected something much bigger about the day itself, a sense of care, generosity and exchange running quietly through everything.

Throughout the afternoon and evening, people were invited to break retted flax stems to reveal the pale fibres hidden inside. For many, it was the first time they had encountered flax in its raw form or realised that linen begins this way, as a plant pulled from the soil, retted, dried, and slowly worked by hand. Something about that transformation still feels quietly powerful, even after years of working with it myself.

Alongside flax breaking, people also experimented with twisting simple cordage by hand and with making small coiled forms from natural fibres. Some stayed briefly before returning to the film or panel discussions, while others remained at the tables for long stretches, discussing sustainability, growth, heritage, and textile processes. There were stories about grandparents connected to textiles, conversations about allotments and gardening, and moments where people simply sat making together without needing to explain why they were drawn to it.

Watching people encounter flax so directly throughout the afternoon and evening reinforced something I have been gradually exploring through my own practice over the last three years.

Flax once formed part of everyday life across Derbyshire, yet much of that knowledge has gradually faded from public memory. Derbyshire Makes felt like an important opportunity to bring some of those connections back into direct public experience through touch, discussion and shared making rather than nostalgia alone.

One of the most encouraging moments came towards the end of the day when I realised every single flax seed box had been taken. I had invited people to leave a postcode alongside the seeds so I could begin tracing where the flax might travel next, and most chose to take part. Looking through that growing spread of postcodes afterwards felt genuinely exciting. Something that had started in a front garden in Riddings was already beginning to move outward into other gardens, windowsills and communities through simple acts of curiosity and generosity.

The day also reminded me how important these kinds of gatherings are for artists and makers themselves. Alongside the public participation, there was also the quieter experience of meeting people already thinking deeply about fibre, sustainability, place and community centred practice. Working publicly during Derbyshire Makes reinforced something I have been gradually learning through this Arts Council supported project: people are not only interested in finished outcomes, but in being invited closer to process itself. Flax naturally encourages conversation and exchange. It slows people down, invites touch and creates opportunities for stories, skills, and understanding to be shared in unexpected ways.

I left the day carrying armfuls of flax back to the car, thinking about all those seed packets already beginning to travel elsewhere. By that point, it felt as though the flax had worked its way not only across the venue itself but also into people's hands, conversations, gardens, and windowsills through the activities and seeds shared throughout the afternoon and evening. Alongside the practical making, many people were also encountering Derbyshire's flax and textile heritage for the first time, discovering that materials once deeply connected to everyday life and local industry still have the power to bring people together through growing, making and shared understanding. People gathered not only to learn and make, but to carry small pieces of that history home with them, allowing both the flax and the conversations around it to continue growing long after Derbyshire Makes had ended.