Stories in the Stones
September 12, 2025
The September issue of Felt Matters, a publication of International Feltmakers Association, was in my mailbox yesterday, and what a beautiful publication it is. Nice paper, rich photographs, and…
My stones!
This issue is filled with felt projects inspired by rocks and minerals, perfect! There’s such a beautiful array of projects and makers featured, and I am truly flattered to have been included. Their inquiry was the spark that sent me back to the process of hand-stitching and it’s been a beautiful reunion. It is a meditative process that I didn’t know I was missing, and it’s reconnected me with people who have supported me in my artistic journey, and some of my newly-created stones have already found loving homes.
I’ll be rolling out some workshops on felting and stitching stones this Fall, and I’m finally working on a video as well.
This girl feels pretty grateful.
I’ve spent my life rooted in rural landscapes, first at the edge of Illinois cornfields, then deep within the woods of Minnesota. Now I live in town, in a little white house with a red door in Brainerd, Minnesota, where my studio overlooks a lush garden lovingly tended by neighbors.
This little oasis has become the ever-changing backdrop to my nature-inspired art. The act of capturing my pieces in this space weaves their surroundings into the narrative, adding depth and context to the work. By photographing my stones in the setting that inspired their creation feels like an extension of the process, helping to share the pieces' origin and essence. Nature’s intricate details have always captivated me. The textured swirl of bark, the tender emergence of moss sporophytes, the kaleidoscope of color and texture in mushrooms and spring ephemerals-these details feel magical. Through my work, in whatever medium I choose, I try to share that sense of wonder and joy.
In 2006, I discovered felting. Though I was already a painter, sculptor, and tinkerer, this medium immediately hooked me. When I began wrapping stones in felt, I realized I’d found the perfect canvas for expression-small, grounded, and full of potential. A few stitches here and there, and the process transformed into something meditative. The feel of the wool and the rhythm of the needle offered a kind of calm I hadn’t expected, and one that offered a bit of respite from the 'busy-ness' of motherhood and life.
It all starts with the stone. Whether I’m walking a dirt backroad or the rocky shore of Lake Superior, my eyes scan for one that’s just right-not too big, not too small, just good in the hand. Once home, I wrap it in hand-dyed wool, soak it in warm, soapy water, and gently roll it between my palms back and forth, back and forth, until the fibers cocoon it in softness.
Before I begin to stitch, I clear a small space on the table, pour myself a mug of coffee or cup of tea (and maybe a cookie), and sit for a moment in the stillness. There’s a kind of reverence in that pause-a breath before creation.
When I stitch, I let the stone guide me. I take in its shape and shade, and experiment with thread colors until they sing beside one another. I think of the landscapes and elements that inspire me: iron-rich soil, sparkling lakes, mosses, birds, garden blooms, fungi. Even with simple stitches, I find I can say so much. Occasionally, I weave in beads, tiny stones, or woolen acorns, which was an idea sparked by a friend. Each finished piece feels good to hold, invites a second look, and, I hope, tells a story about the beauty and wonder of the natural world. Maybe it even encourages someone else to look down, notice, and begin their own story.
Lisa
Thank you for reading. It means the world to me.
If you think someone else may enjoy my work, I’d be grateful if you’d share this with them or encourage them to visit my website where they can sign up for my newsletter, consider workshops, and peruse past projects.
Have questions? Email me at lisa@lilfishstudios.com
