The Name's a Joke. The Work Isn't.

Sew Bitchin Stitchin raises an eyebrow. Then you see what it's actually for, and the eyebrow comes right back down.

The name makes people smirk. Good — that's allowed. Embroidery has spent a very long time being soft and floral and exceedingly polite, and I wanted to make a little room for something with some attitude. So: Sew Bitchin Stitchin.

But the work itself is deeply sincere. It's memorials for pets who have passed. It's the first fuzzy photo of a baby who isn't here yet. It's the drawing your kid made the year before they got too cool to draw for you. None of that is a joke, and I don't treat it like one.

Who's behind the hoop

I'm based in Columbus, Ohio, working entirely by hand on dark, rich fabric because it makes color glow like stained glass with a candle behind it. I started this studio to turn fleeting moments into permanent ones — the kind of thing you'd grab on your way out of a burning building.

What every commission gets

• The same care at every price. A $60 kid's drawing gets the identical focus as a $250 pet memorial. No tiers of effort.
• Hours of undivided attention. Thousands of individual stitches, one person, no machine rushing it along.
• The "my own wall" test. I treat every piece like it's going up in my own home. That's the whole bar.

The attitude is in the name. The tenderness is in the thread. Both are true at the same time.