How do you choose the colours for your handweaving? Using a painting as inspiration.
- Emma Baker

- Mar 3
- 4 min read
Drawing colour and handweaving inspiration from a gallery visit
One of the questions I am most frequently asked at workshops and markets is ‘How do you choose your colours when handweaving?’ It is a thoughtful question and one that has evolved in its answer over time.
This blog outlines a recent weaving project which was inspired by a beautiful painting seen during a visit to Sunbury Embroidery Gallery.

Learning to trust colour
Colour is deeply personal. Most of us have a favourite shade or a combination that instantly draws us in. When selling my handwoven scarves and snoods at events, I often notice how quickly someone is pulled toward a particular colourway. When I first learned to weave, choosing and combining colours felt challenging. Not every experiment was successful (and some were very much learning curves!). Over the years, I have come to see sampling as essential as a way to trial colour combinations and designs on a smaller scale before committing to a larger project. Sampling builds confidence. It allows space for exploration and you can read about my sampling approach to weaving here.
Today, I draw much of my colour inspiration from the world around me. Living near the New Forest means I am surrounded by shifting seasonal palettes, the rich, earthy tones of autumn and winter, and the lighter, brighter and pink hues of spring and summer. I have noticed my weaving naturally reflects this rhythm, often echoing the season I am working in.
Inspiration from the Sunbury Embroidery Gallery
Recently, I visited the Sunbury Embroidery Gallery in Sunbury-on-Thames to run a TabbyandTweed rigid heddle loom workshop. The gallery space was filled with extraordinary, embroidered pieces, including the remarkable ‘Village Panel’ which is a 3m x 1m work composed of over 130 individual embroidered sections. The intricate design features churches, public houses, and examples of Sunbury’s domestic architecture, all set alongside the River Thames, which flows through the centre of the piece.
A painting that sparked a weave
Alongside the permanent collection in the Sunbury Embroidery Gallery, there was also a guest exhibition. One painting in particular immediately caught my eye. The piece, titled “Floating, Sinking, Drowning, Dying” from the ‘Las Rosas Ahogadas’ (The Drowned Roses) series by Richard Eastwood, drew me in from across the gallery. At first glance, it was the bold blocks of cobalt blue, vibrant pink and yellow that captured my attention. But as I moved closer, I began to see the delicate pink forms of roses emerging from within the composition. You can learn more about Richard Eastwoods work by clicking here.
The work was created after the artist had been given roses, which he began to paint, draw, and photograph. Later, glimpses of film footage from the 2024 floods in Spain influenced the direction of the piece exploring the tension between the destructive power of water and the fragile beauty of roses.
Standing in the gallery, I found myself reflecting not only on the story behind the painting, but on its extraordinary and confident use of colour, specifically the intensity and contrasting colours.
Translating paint into thread
During the day of the visit, I was running a rigid heddle scarf weaving workshop in the gallery. In the morning the new weavers were learning the basics of how to weave on their pre-warped rigid heddle looms. In the afternoon there was time for us to teach the weavers how to warp and set up the loom. I decided to use the painting as the inspiration for the demonstration warp. I was delighted to discover, quite by luck, that we had brought yarns to our workshop that closely matched the vibrancy and intensity of the colours of the painting.


Weaving the fabric
Back at home after the workshop I wove the fabric on the loom. I chose to echo the painting’s boldness. Some sections gradually blended from one colour into another, while other areas were woven in strong blocks to create impact and contrast.

From cloth to snood
I wove a one-metre length of fabric, not quite enough for a scarf, but perfect for a snood.
Once removed from the loom, the fabric was washed to allow the fibres to settle and bloom. To create the finished piece, I simply joined the fabric into a circle with the edges oversewn. The transformation from yarn to woven cloth, and then into a wearable piece, never fails to feel satisfying.
This small weaving project reminded me of something important: inspiration is everywhere. It may be found in landscapes, in seasons, in embroidery, or in contemporary art hanging quietly on a gallery wall. The key is to notice and to ask:
* What colours surprise me?
* Which combinations feel bold or harmonious?
* How might these colours behave when translated into thread?
My handwoven scarves, shawls, snoods, and other accessories are for sale in my website for UK, Canada and USA delivery.
If you are interested in knowing what is on the loom, off the loom, and workshop dates, do sign up to receive my weaving news emails by clicking here.







