Justine with two framed needle-felted Devon landscapes and the Garden at Toadstool House

From Carded Wool to a Walk Along the Coast Path

There is always a slightly alarming stage in the making of a needle-felted picture when it looks nothing like the picture I have in my head—but somehow, it goes on to become something wonderful.

And then there are other times when I have no picture in my head at all. No plan, no direction and no real idea of what I am going to make. I simply start felting and see what happens.

Then, almost as if by magic, a picture begins to form. The wool starts to speak to me and, just as I might look at the clouds and see dolphins jumping or rabbits hopping, shapes and possibilities begin to emerge.

Suddenly, I can see it. I know exactly what the picture is going to be.

Where the Coast Path Leads was one of those times.

I began by creating the base, laying strips of core wool horizontally to form a square slightly larger than 8 × 8 inches. I then added a second layer in exactly the same way, but this time laying the strips vertically. I needle felted the wool until it became flat, added a little more core wool wherever the base seemed too thin, and felted it some more.

I looked down at my newly made base and genuinely had no idea what I was going to do with it. I thought and thought, but nope—nothing.

I put it down to having made quite a few pictures lately and simply running out of ideas. So, I decided to put down some colour anyway, just so that I had made a start.

I chose a blue and a green and quite literally covered one half of the base in blue and the other half in green.

Hands needle felting green wool onto a blue and green wool base

Looking at that early photograph now, it is quite difficult to imagine how it could ever become a finished landscape. But it did and not only that, it is now my very favourite needle felted picture so far. 

That is one of the many pleasures of needle felting. A picture doesn’t always suddenly appear fully formed. It grows slowly, one small piece of wool at a time.

Letting the landscape emerge

The first layers are really only a starting point—a suggestion of where the land might be and where the sky ends. I then typically begin laying down different colours.

In this case, I thought it would probably become another Devon landscape, so I added various shades of green, still with no definite plan in mind.

Loose layers of green wool forming the beginning of a needle-felted Devon landscape

Before long, however, I noticed the hint of a path amongst the green, where some of the core wool was peeping through. The lower part of the blue sky began to make me think of the sea—and that is the moment when the magic starts to happen and a plan begins to hatch.

Then the gradual process of building the picture with a felting needle really begins.

The wool is repeatedly stabbed into place, slowly becoming firmer, flatter and more defined. Colours are added, blended, covered, uncovered and occasionally removed again when something simply isn’t working.

Paths move. Hills change shape. Coastlines appear.

It is very much a process of looking, adjusting and seeing where the wool takes me.

A winding coast path beginning to emerge amongst layers of green wool.

With Where the Coast Path Leads, the winding path became the heart of the picture. I wanted it to draw your eye along the coast path and towards the sea, leaving you to imagine what might be waiting just around the corner.

The tiny details came later: little specks of colour amongst the grass, texture along the hillside and changing shades in the water and sky. They may be small additions, but they help transform the layers of wool into somewhere you might actually like to wander.

I love this stage—adding all those little details. In fact, I probably spend just as much time on this part as I do getting the picture to this point.

I would happily spend many more hours on it too, but eventually you have to know when to stop.

Two very different Devon walks

Alongside the coast-path picture, I was also working on another new landscape called Across the Devon Fields.

Although they are both inspired by the countryside and coastline around me here in Devon, they have quite different feelings.

Where the Coast Path Leads is brighter and more colourful, with that inviting path leading down towards the vivid blue sea. Across the Devon Fields is softer and more muted, with sheep grazing among the rolling fields and the path disappearing into the landscape.

Justine displaying Across the Devon Fields and Where the Coast Path Leads with The Garden at Toadstool House.

I love the thought that each picture offers its own little escape. One takes you towards the coast on a bright summer’s day; the other leads you quietly across the fields beneath a softer, slightly hazier sky.

Both pictures measure approximately 8 × 8 inches and are displayed in white 10 × 10 inch frames.

They were delivered to the shop in Appledore on 25 July, ready to begin that slightly nerve-racking wait to see whether someone else connects with them enough to take one home.

I almost regretted taking Where the Coast Path Leads to the shop, and I keep resisting the urge to go and collect it again because I really do love it!

But then I remind myself that my dream is to make needle felting my full-time job one day—if the universe decides that is the plan for me—and keeping all my favourite pieces would only slow the process down.

However, if it is still there the next time I take more stock to the shop, perhaps I’ll bring it home with me after all!

A return to Toadstool House

The landscapes weren’t the only pieces travelling to Appledore with me.

I also made The Garden at Toadstool House, a small needle-felted sculpture featuring a red-and-white toadstool standing in its own little garden.

The needle-felted Garden at Toadstool House photographed in the North Devon countryside.

It was lovely to make something more whimsical alongside the landscapes. The pictures allow me to disappear into fields, coast paths and distant views, while the toadstool houses give me an excuse to imagine tiny hidden worlds at ground level.

The Garden at Toadstool House took around four hours to make and joined the two new pictures in the shop on the same day.

Taking the finished pieces to Appledore

Making the artwork is only one part of trying to build Felted Woolly Delights.

Before anything can go to the shop, the pictures need to be finished, framed, photographed, named, priced and labelled. 

There is always more involved than I initially imagine, but seeing everything finally displayed in the shop makes all those smaller jobs feel worthwhile.

My latest YouTube video follows that part of the journey. I share the new pieces, prepare them for sale and take them to their new spot in Appledore. 

Watch my latest Felted Woolly Delights video on YouTube.

Felted Woolly Delights is still growing one picture, one video and one handful of wool at a time. I am learning as I go, experimenting with new ideas and slowly discovering which pieces people connect with most.

For now, three more Felted Woolly Delights are sitting in the shop, waiting to see where their paths might lead next.

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