From Garage to Gweithdy (Welsh for workshop)
The story of how a very tired garage, a slightly optimistic business plan and a lot of patience are becoming the new home of Textiles Reimagined.
Starting a new business is exciting. It is also, if I'm honest, pretty terrifying.
When I wrote the business plan for Textiles Reimagined, I did all the sensible things. I worked out the costs, projected the income and mapped out how I could make the business work. On paper, it all looked promising, but the terrifying bit was that almost all of those costs come before you've made a penny.
I needed to market the business, reach potential customers, develop workshops and create work that people would actually want to buy. I started with what I already had, running workshops in community spaces where my main expense was simply hiring the room. The early signs were encouraging. People wanted to learn, to make, to mend.
But I also knew I needed somewhere of my own.
A studio where I could make larger-scale textile work, experiment with materials and dyes, store all the things that come with making, and eventually welcome people into my own workshop
The problem was finding somewhere that made financial sense. Rent and business rates for suitable spaces were simply too high. I couldn't see how I could make the numbers work.
And then we looked at the garage.
The garage
Calling it a garage was perhaps being generous.
It was dark, damp and crumbling. The roof was failing, the walls were tired and it had become the sort of place where things went when we didn't quite know what else to do with them.
I certainly couldn't see a beautiful textile studio in there.
But we made a big decision. We would use some of our savings and turn it into one.
And that was when the adventure really began.
First came the mammoth task of emptying it. Years of accumulated stuff had to go somewhere, and unfortunately that somewhere was our house. Suddenly every room seemed to contain something that belonged in the workshop.
Then I started looking for the things I wanted inside it.
Facebook Marketplace became my new favourite place. An old wooden dresser. A vintage trestle table. Scaffolding boards. A catering sink that would eventually become my dyeing station.
One by one, I collected the pieces that would give the workshop its character.
Meanwhile, the building work crawled on.
And crawled.
And crawled.
The summer that disappeared
We started in April.
I had optimistically imagined that by summer I would be happily working away in my new studio, perhaps throwing open the doors and enjoying the garden between workshops.
Instead, I lost the entire summer to building work.
First came the heatwave.
The temperatures were relentless, making plastering and roofing almost impossible. Then came the rain. And lots of it. Just when we thought we had turned a corner, another delay appeared.
There were unforeseen building regulation requirements too, including the installation of a rainwater harvesting system. Actually, it was a very good idea and something I'm pleased we have done. But at the time it felt like yet another unexpected cost, another delay and another reason why the finish line seemed to move further away.
And then there was the garden.
Our old fence came down, leaving us completely exposed to the neighbours. Thankfully, they have been wonderfully understanding, because for months our tiny garden became a building site.
Builders stomped through it. Materials appeared everywhere. Dust travelled into the house. And slowly, our once tranquil little corner became a rather chaotic extension of the building site.
There was certainly no sitting in the sunshine with a book and a glass of something cold.
Not this summer.
But then, suddenly, it started to happen
As we move towards September, we're finally, finally, getting close.
And this is the bit where all the frustration starts to disappear.
The reclaimed floorboards have just been laid. They came from an old church and, for me, they are one of the most exciting parts of the whole project. They already have a history, and now they are going to become part of the story of Textiles Reimagined.
The walls are painted.
The new windows sit proudly against the stark white plaster.
The light floods in.
And suddenly I can see it.
I can see the workshops around the big table. I can see fabric hanging from the walls. I can see baskets of scraps, threads and stitching. I can see people learning, making, talking and sharing ideas.
I can finally see the studio I imagined when we first stood in that dark, crumbling garage and wondered whether we were completely mad.
The house is still full of dust and random pieces of equipment. There are still boxes waiting to be moved and jobs waiting to be finished.
But my mindset has changed.
I'm no longer worrying about what needs doing.
I'm planning where everything is going to go.
Which textiles will hang on the walls. Where the work table will sit. Where I'll keep the fabrics and threads. What will make the space feel welcoming.
I'm mentally moving into my new workshop before I've even got the keys to it.
There are only a few weeks left now.
I'm just waiting for the last few jobs to be finished, and, if I'm honest, quietly willing the plumber to tighten that final washer, pack up his tools and leave me to it.
Then it will be mine.
A place to make.
A place to teach.
A place to experiment.
A place to bring discarded textiles back to life.
And finally, a proper home for Textiles Reimagined.
I can't wait to show you.
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