Abstract
How might we get to know moss on more intimate terms? This paper outlines a creative stitching workshop as a method for facilitating interdisciplinary collaboration and for encouraging slowly paced, tactile ways of noticing and getting to know plants – in this case, sphagnum mosses. We reflect on MossWorlds, a project bringing together artists and academics from a variety of disciplines in the social and physical sciences and humanities. Via a series of experimental and playful interventions, the project investigates the historical, contemporary and future importance of mosses in Greater Manchester. Our ‘Moss Stitch’ workshop, held in the University of Manchester’s geography laboratories, invited participants to get to know (sphagnum) moss more intimately by stitching it. This task required focused attention and tactile engagement with mosses and materials, opening a space for knowing mosses otherwise. Drawing together reflections from workshop participants we consider what it means to carry out creative, cultural geographic practice in geography laboratories – spaces traditionally reserved for physical geographers and the ‘hard’ environmental sciences. We ask how performing soft forms of textile making might subvert these spaces and norms.
Conversation emerges slowly.
Pull, pluck, point.
Speaking without looking.
Parallel play in a shared space.
My hair, trapped in the stitch
(buried)
Moss work.
How might we come to understand mosses more intimately? What methods can help bring together the varied disciplinary knowledges, embodied dispositions and forms of attentiveness needed to appreciate mosses – plants that are small and slow growing, and which, historically, have been overlooked and understudied (Figure 1)? This writing draws on a larger endeavour: MossWorlds (August 2024–July 2025) is a project bringing together a team of artists and academics researching plants from varied disciplinary perspectives. While urban mosses have often been overlooked or relegated to the margins, they are gaining attention as bio-indicators of urban pollution, markers of place and belonging, and aesthetic signals of various ethical concerns and values. 1 Our overarching objective in MossWorlds is to ‘re-story’ moss, bringing together Manchester’s botanical, civic and aesthetic ‘worlds’ of moss to creatively address the contemporary challenges of our ecological and biodiversity crises.

A bog pool created during peatland restoration colonised by Sphagnum cuspidatum (Swineshaw Moor, UK).
In this paper, 2 we describe a creative textiles workshop, ‘Moss Stitch’, as a method for generating different forms of attention to (sphagnum) moss, 3 and building a sense of connection within an interdisciplinary collective. ‘Moss Stitch’ was one collaborative event within a series of playful interventions organised as part of MossWorlds, which included sessions focused on bryology, musical improvisation, herbarium archives, peatland ecologies, poetry, microscopy and spectroscopy, and protest art, each bringing together interdisciplinary artists and researchers. Each workshop aimed to provide space for developing a shared language and methodology for knowing mosses. The ‘Moss Stitch’ workshop, held in March 2025, brought participants into the University of Manchester’s SEED (School of Environment, Education and Development) Laboratories to handle, look closely, and think about mosses at varied scales, and then recreate them with textiles (Figure 2).

Stitched mosses in progress (left and right).
This paper builds on recent interest in creative methods in cultural geography and the social sciences, as well as longer traditions of arts practitioners exploring textiles and other craft forms. 4 Existing work has highlighted the potential of embodied, tactile, creative practices both as methodological techniques in research, and as tools for building social connection and solidarity. 5 We extend these possibilities by asking how textile making might be mobilised to better understand plants and to facilitate interdisciplinary collaboration for researching the vegetal. 6
Interdependencies, time ma(r)ker, landscape maker, witness (but in an active way)
Stitching is an intimate, embodied practice, usually performed at a small scale, requiring careful handling and manipulation of materials, repetitive actions and focused attention. 7 Stitching often demands a degree of stillness, slowness and quiet contemplation. When conducted with other makers, it can generate a particular sociality and form of conversation. 8 There is growing interest in textile making as a research method in the social sciences and humanities, 9 due to this capacity for facilitating slow, reflective thinking, social connection, haptic understanding and intimacy with materials. 10 Cultural and vegetal 11 geographers have also recently asked what intimacies with plants 12 might mean, noting that vegetal intimacy implies close-up, embodied knowing 13 and attention to plants’ rhythms and temporalities. 14 Importantly, such proximate understandings may have potential to foster emotional attachment and care for plants. This is especially pertinent in relation to mosses, which have traditionally been under-explored or treated as weeds to be eradicated. As Calkins notes, thinking with vegetal intimacy can draw ‘attention to muted histories that perhaps have never been made explicit but still are sensed and felt’. 15
The two-hour ‘Moss Stitch’ workshop was an experiment with sewing, itself an intimate practice, as a technique for deepening participants’ relationships with mosses, and with one another. It was attended by the coauthors of this paper, who include undergraduate students, artists, the curator of botany at Manchester Museum and researchers in English literature, cultural and physical geography, music, and bryology. The workshop followed a morning session (led by Emma Shuttleworth) learning about the environmental processes through which sphagnum mosses form peat. We gleaned how scientists can use mosses as windows onto past, present, and future environments, and considered how mosses act as ecosystem engineers, regulating flows of water and climate at different scales (Figures 3 and 4).

A Sphagnum cuspidatum bog pool community using nearby cottongrass (Eriophorum Spp.) as scaffolding (Holcombe Moor, UK).

A Sphagnum capillifolium hummock (Exmoor National Park, UK).
Guided by textile artist Natalie Linney, we then spent the afternoon stitching into cotton fabric stretched between wooden embroidery hoops. Natalie first introduced her exploration of sphagnum moss as a creative medium, drawing on freeze-drying and processing techniques she had piloted in an artist residency in the University of Manchester geography laboratories in 2023. 16 In her experiments, sphagnum moss proved unsuccessful as a dyestuff or source of eco-print, 17 resisting attempts at instrumentalisation, 18 but gave promising results when dried and ground into a fine pigment, prompting ideas for future experiments. We examined the powdered, dried and fresh mosses using hand lenses, thinking about how these planty materials felt and behaved. We looked at images of sphagnum at various scales, from boggy landscapes to microscopic cells (Figure 5).

Sphagnum mosses: fresh, freeze-dried, as powdered pigment, and painted (left); reverse side of stitched moss (right).
Our task was to bring these aesthetic, textural qualities into a stitched response, and at the end of the two-hour session, to give our mossy creations a name. These included:
Laboratory Incident. Star Plug. Tangled Thread Moss. Splurging Fray Moss. Richesse. Sphaggie Baggie. Tufted. Not Branching Too Far.
The workshop involved us and our materials taking over a large section of the geography laboratories, clearing away glass beakers and soil samples, and filling the space with soft, multi-hued tangled threads and bits of textural fabric gathered from our own collections. We attempted to think like mosses to recreate them, as one stitcher commented:
I wanted to be small scale like the moss. I like the tufty unpredictable fabric that spirals everywhere.
Some of us stitched intricate details with cotton floss, others layered mesh-like gauze or sculpted springy polyester stuffing into three dimensional forms. A pair of sleeve cuffs, cut from a green woolly jumper yielded pleasingly bouncy, unravelling tendrils.
The subversive potential of stitching sphagnum
Stitching has long associations with the feminine and with private, domestic spaces, and textiles theorists suggest it is therefore imbued with subversive potential when performed publicly. 19 Conducting soft forms of textile making in a laboratory, traditionally the preserve of the physical and ‘hard’ environmental sciences, disrupts daily activity within these spaces (Figure 6).

Working with mosses and textiles in the geography laboratories.
Stitching also has capacity to challenge ideas about ‘proper’ ways of studying and naming plants, unsettling the scientific gaze and inviting more embodied, affective ways of knowing and feeling plants through the cultural geographic imagination, creative methods, and ‘anarchic’ dispositions.
20
Joey, a bryologist reflects on how his thinking shifted while stitching (Figure 7):
I called the piece ‘Against method in real time’ because I started with a very scientific breakdown and quickly realised that the more engaging form of this knowledge was the more tactile version. I come from quite a strict ‘scientific method is king’ background in my research career. As I went through the process of sewing, I realised that I didn’t want to make a scientific breakdown of the structure, I actually just wanted to make something more fun and engaging. It reminded me, in the moment, of the arguments in Against Method by Paul Feyerabend,
21
hence the title.

Stitched moss: ‘Against method in real time: A textile version of the scientific method versus a more anarchist understanding’.
Stitching together gave us an opportunity to ‘sit with’ mosses, as we worked in the company of physical moss plants in various states of desiccation and quietly contemplated the information we had absorbed throughout the day. Anke, an academic researcher in Medieval Literature and Plant Humanities reflects on her experience:
Spending time stitching moss after a morning learning about the ecological importance of sphagnum and touring the geography labs might seem an incongruous thing to do - an exercise in contrasts. But it turned out to make a beautiful kind of sense. The lab itself became a space conducive to different kinds of creativity and experimentation as it was filled with colour, texture and encouragement. The information shared by Emma and her colleagues now had space and time to sink in – the stitching not only picked up on some of the same themes (the morphology of mosses; their scale; their intricate and varied shapes, colours, textures) but also opened up another way of being with mosses.
The slow, patient, careful (sometimes tentative, uncertain) process of stitching felt like a form of rumination. In medieval monastic culture, ruminatio described the act of meditating on sacred texts: ‘chewing’ them over until they became part of oneself. The stitching felt similar, allowing theoretical knowledge to be translated into material creation and so ‘digested’ and incorporated. The attention required by stitching turned out to be different in kind or quality from that involved in reading an academic article or listening to a talk. Because we also chatted or were silent while fiddling with a particularly recalcitrant thread, attention moved dynamically between open awareness and close focus. Ideas for designs emerged – and metamorphosed in the process of translation from abstract image into material expression. When our works were gathered together, we could see the creativity of the group as well as that of moss itself.
Stitching created an unhurried space for us to spend time alongside one another, engrossed in what was taking shape in the circle of the embroidery hoop (Figures 8 and 9). Though we started with mosses, our attention turned towards the materials, and our talk to fragmented chatter, what Shercliff refers to as ‘gossip and a continuous flux of coordinated hands and bodies’
22
through which ‘[t]he conversation and the embroideries are jointly produced’.
23
Henry, an improviser, composer and researcher in music touches on the generative potential of this type of talk:
Stitching in the laboratory, conversation flows. Anecdotes give way to reflections. Laughter leads to pause for thought (or threading). As we stitch, I notice a mutual attentiveness, both to these materials and to each other. Even in this brief workshop, it emerges in the quiet moments between chatter, in our sitting side by side, and in the passing of thread and fabrics between hands. The invitation to consider mosses through this time-stretching medium (needlework is slow) is an opportunity to create a space for co-presence. Does this help us listen better?
Along the bench, I can hear pockets of sharing and support – “I’m not sure about mine”, “Oh, really? I think it’s brilliant!”; “I like how you’ve brought together these different fabrics, do you do much stitching?”; “yeah, in the pandemic, my partner took up cross-stitch”; “I like mine to be neat at the back”, “whereas mine’s just chaotic!”. These aren’t arbitrary, or superficial things. In this collaborative space, they feel generous, and generative – part of the fabric of the world we are making together at this time. What we bring to this table, besides our disciplines and accumulated ways of knowing, is ourselves.

‘Splurging fray moss’ (left); stitched detail of a sphagnum moss stem (right).

Stitched moss detail (left and right).
The slowness of stitching meant our attempts at making moss exceeded the time allotted to the short workshop, and the mossy pieces needed to be finished at home, in our own time. A few months later, in July 2025, they were brought back together and exhibited at a celebration event for MossWorlds participants and friends, held at The Firs, the University’s botanical grounds and environmental research station. The stitched pieces were placed among the plants in the site’s historic glasshouses for visitors to seek out and examine.
Concluding thoughts
In bringing together artists and academics to stitch mosses in the University of Manchester’s geography laboratories, the ‘Moss Stitch’ workshop opened a space for knowing mosses otherwise. The stitching activity afforded us a small window of time together, working on a meaningful, and for many of us, unfamiliar task, and offering each other encouragement. In a modest way, we came to know sphagnum mosses more deeply. Stitching made us slow down, creating space to quietly digest and think over the information presented earlier in the day. Significantly, our attempts to stitch the qualities of sphagnum – its absorbency, sponginess, layering and tangled growth – required iterative, non-verbal and multi-sensory engagements with materials. Our attention moved dynamically between the moss, the making, and one another, allowing for unhurried, unpressured conversation and moments of quiet, which felt unusual in a workshop setting.
The performance of creative, cultural geographic practice, such as the soft textile-making methods outlined here, holds potential to momentarily disrupt ingrained disciplinary hierarchies by offering alternative spaces for being with and knowing plants. Perhaps most significantly, creative methods can facilitate connection within diverse and interdisciplinary teams. Through our gentle, fragmented chatter, and our slowly paced, hesitant construction we began to stitch together a strong sense of collaboration. At the end of the workshop, Henry, a researcher in Music, posed the following reflective questions:
What might it afford us to be and do together in this way, in the longer term? How can we find space, within the apparatus of the Academy, for slow collaboration, and anarchistic, experimental work? And what lessons might we learn in our attentiveness to the threads, to each other, to the mosses?
For cultural geographers, the answers are multiple: the slow, quiet practice of stitching plants draws us into modes of attention to the environment that both exceed and compliment the scientific methods of our colleagues in physical geography. It invites us to rethink how we relate to plants in our research, and to reorient our ways of knowing and feeling the vegetal. The Moss Stitch session opened a space, if only for a few hours, to resist and rethink the urgent temporalities that increasingly define successful academic projects and collaborations.
Footnotes
Acknowledgements
Thank you to The University of Manchester SEED Laboratories staff for hosting the Moss Stitch workshop, to Gareth Clay and Tom Mair for their help with demonstrations during the workshop, and to everyone who participated in the MossWorlds project. Thank you also to the Creative Manchester research platform for its ongoing support of MossWorlds, and to Caleb Johnson for editorial support with the production of this article.
Ethics Statement
As coauthors of the paper, all workshop participants consented for their reflections and photographs taken during the workshop to be included. All sources have been properly cited in accordance with academic standards.
Funding
The author(s) disclosed receipt of the following financial support for the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article: The MossWorlds project was supported by the University of Manchester Research Institute (UMRI) award (UMRI-34501).
