Patterns and Process with Richard McVetis

August 3 , 2025

"Artists are storytellers, and I think we need those more than ever." So begins an afternoon with Richard McVetis, an embroidery artist and teacher of the practice who finds joy not only in the introspective patterns and process of the craft, but in the community that can be found in their sharing.

On a mild summer's day in Bloomsbury, nestled inside Cockpit Arts — a bustling social enterprise and creative hub — we explored Richard's tidy yet cosy workshop, stacked with books and embroidery hoops, with postcards pinned to the wall alongside larger pieces of Richard's work, and sandbags (a new project) lining the floor and minute embroidered cubes (part of his earlier project, "Variations of a Stitched Cube", shortlisted for the Loewe Craft Prize) dotted along the shelves.

It is easy, we quickly realise, to learn from Richard, who warmly talks about his projects (The Coal Project a particular favourite) and his inspirations (cosmology and geology, cities and histories — to cite a couple). "I'm just so inquisitive, I love a question!" Answering them as readily as he asks them, Richard is a natural storyteller, seamlessly stitching together ideas and narratives. Admittedly less at home in front of the camera, he confides, he prefers to be "quiet behind the scenes"; it is his work, not his face, that he wants to be out in the world. However, he laughs, "being an artist, people want us to be in photographs quite often." He dwells on this for a moment: "the persona of the artist is sort of everything." A realisation he fought for some time, but eventually embraced because "we need artists." Gesturing around the workshop, and beyond its walls, which home the talent of some 175 craftspeople, Richard pauses: "we ask questions, we have empathy, we're trying to reveal something."

What is revealed, Richard cautions, smiling, does not always have to be profound; "I'm really interested in universal ideas, but, essentially, I just want to make stuff." It is the making of "stuff", as Richard cheerfully terms it, that often makes the heaviest of concepts seem lighter, the complexities of the unknown becoming familiar through processes of repetition: "I'm really interested in looking at things and noticing patterns."

Patterns inform process across nature and culture ("DNA… Sheet music!"), with each developing over time, providing inspiration for both subject matter and method: "I seek patterns, and then when I make work, it's about ritual and repetition."

Patterns and process, for Richard, offer perspective. Perspective is a source of inspiration that can be found in the material construction of the world itself, time and gravity, and, simultaneously, "the mundanity of the everyday" — even, Richard chuckles, the "dirty tiles on the tube." He is interested, for example, in light and dark, "because shadows denote presence. They show you that you're physically there, and that you're part of a system… We're part of this thing that's bigger than us."

We are all, Richard suggests, variations on a process, part of a narrative of constant change and evolution. It is for this reason the artist favours hand embroidery, and specifically, the seed stitch. "It's a repetitive mark", he tells us, gesturing to his stitched cubes that represent "stitched moments" and the granular nature of time, "but it's a slight evolution each time — I'm never making the same mark." A slow process, Richard likens it to meditation. "In Sanskrit, bija means seed, and in meditation there's an idea of seeding ideas and thoughts… So the material becomes the site of thinking." The process of embroidery, then, slows you down, facilitating thinking. In a world that often rewards speed, any practice that offers you the chance to slow down, Richard suggests, is a worthwhile one. "At 100 miles an hour, everything becomes blurred!"

In a world that is not only quick, but often bewildering, making art, for Richard, becomes a way of trying to explore these ideas in more simple terms. When I think about the fundamental principles of how the world is made, it just blows my mind!" He laughs. So while, he admits, he is really interested in reading and research, to "try and understand the interconnectedness of everything" — he flips the back of an embroidery hoop over, gesturing to the tangled threads — "you know that nothing is individual, everything is part of a connected story, and embroidery is a really great medium to explore these complex ideas." Textiles become "such a beautiful way to speak about the fabric of life," with "the textile language so immersed in the way we describe the world." He pauses, and smiles, "We live in a material world."

The world is not only material, but communal, a truth rooted in Richard's practice. "There's something very convivial about coming together, of sitting and stitching and making… Nothing more than just having that moment to make something, to sit in conversation." It doesn't, he says earnestly, have to be "anything complicated. You can have a conversation and unpack ideas, and talk tv, politics, all different types of subjects." The value comes from the fact "it is facilitated through hands and making." The point, he explains, is that people come together in the acts of making and sharing.

Sharing underpins Richard's passion for teaching, a fundamental part of his practice. "I think it's important that artists become teachers, that they share their ideas." Connections are revealed through the work of both the artist and the teacher, unearthing stories and navigating a complicated, globalised world. "We're not individual, we're not an island, and we're all interconnected." Closer to home, too, is the local and the practical: "it's important to understand how things are made!" Challenging the notion that embroidery is "purely decorative," Richard teaches the craft to be "democratic and accessible." Richard celebrates, both in his making and his teaching, "the majesty of the hands." With conscious creation at the heart of his teaching, Richard seeks to share an understanding of design that acknowledges that "we are tool makers and users," with the intent to make design more sustainable.

It is these ideas that Richard seeks to hand down to the next generation: "As we move into a world that is more digital, the idea of making, and skill, and the hand itself, is something that we need to protect." Creativity takes so many forms — from shaping words, to navigating cities, to juggling life with children — "creative decision making is everywhere, and there is not only one way to think about creativity as an artist." But, Richard urges us, "we have to remember that hands are vital, important tools, and they can make really beautiful things, they engage with the world and they help us understand it."