Hand Stitching

OBSERVATION 003 / PROCESS

HAND STITCHING

On time, construction, and knowing where the hand matters.

Hand stitching is one of the processes I spend the most time doing.

There’s a particular rhythm to it. Marking the stitch line, punching each hole, working two needles back and forth through the leather, and gradually watching separate pieces become a single object.

It's slow.

That slowness is part of what initially attracted me to the process, but the more I've worked by hand, the less interested I've become in slowness simply for the sake of it.

I hand stitch much of the work I make, but I don't believe an object becomes better simply because every stitch was made by hand.

The more useful question for me is where the hand actually matters.

 

THE SADDLE STITCH

Most of my hand-sewn work is constructed using a saddle stitch.

Unlike a typical sewing machine lockstitch, which uses an upper thread and a separate bobbin thread that interlock within the material, saddle stitching uses a single length of thread with a needle at each end.

Both needles pass through the same series of holes from opposite directions, creating a continuous stitch through the material.

The process is simple in principle, but there are a surprising number of variables once you begin doing it repeatedly.

The size and spacing of the holes, thread diameter, angle of the stitch, thickness of the leather and amount of tension applied all influence the finished seam.

Eventually, much of that becomes something you feel rather than measure.

 

CONTROL

One of the things I value most about stitching by hand is control.

Every stitch is handled individually. Tension can be adjusted as you work. You can feel changes in thickness between layers and respond to them. Corners, transitions and unusual constructions can be approached differently from a long straight seam.

There’s also nowhere for a mistake to disappear.

If the spacing is inconsistent, the tension changes, or a stitch doesn't sit correctly, you see it almost immediately. Sometimes that means backing up, removing a stitch and doing it again.

That constant feedback slows the process down, but it also keeps you connected to the construction of the object in a very direct way.

You're not simply watching a seam form, you're building it one stitch at a time.

 

WHEN A MACHINE MAKES SENSE

There are also plenty of places where I think a sewing machine makes more sense.

A bag constructed inside out may have long seams that eventually disappear into the interior once the piece is turned. A belt can require a continuous line of stitching over a considerable distance. There are constructions where using a machine saves a meaningful amount of time without compromising what I want from the finished object.

There’s also the practical reality of making things as a business.

Hand stitching takes time. A lot of it. Insisting that every seam on every object be sewn by hand can add hours of labor and eventually make certain pieces unnecessarily expensive or impractical to produce. I don't think using a machine in those situations diminishes the work.

A sewing machine is another tool, and learning when to use it is as much a part of making as learning when not to.

 

TIME & VALUE

It can be easy to associate the amount of time spent making something with its value.

Hand stitching naturally lends itself to that idea because the labor is visible. Hundreds of individual stitches can represent hours of work, and there’s something meaningful about that. But more hours don't automatically make a better object.

If a machine can produce an appropriate seam in a part of a construction where hand stitching contributes little beyond additional labor, I don't see much value in adding those hours simply so the entire object can be described as hand stitched.

I'd rather spend that time somewhere it changes the result.

That might mean hand stitching an exposed seam where the stitch becomes part of the design, spending more time selecting and placing a particular section of leather, refining an edge, or working through a construction that benefits from the additional control.

Time matters. Where that time is spent matters more.

 

CHOOSING THE METHOD

I still find something deeply satisfying about finishing a long line of saddle stitching.

There’s evidence of the hand in it. Not because every stitch needs to be visibly imperfect, but because someone had to make each one individually. There’s a rhythm and concentration involved that I continue to value every time I sit down to do it.

But I don't think respecting a traditional process means it has to be used indiscriminately.

Hand stitching and machine sewing aren't opposing philosophies. They're different methods of joining material, each with its own advantages, limitations and appropriate uses.

The decision should come from the object.

For me, the goal isn't to put as many hours into something as possible. It's to understand where those hours matter.