A nettle and thread
- 1 day ago
- 6 min read
Words by Jamie Crocker
From rescued hens to resilient fibres, Jane Gray follows her curiosity wherever it leads.
Most people would walk past a patch of nettles without a second glance, perhaps making a mental note to avoid the sting. Jane Gray sees possibility where others see weeds, cordage where others see garden waste and stories woven through plants that have grown alongside people for centuries. Spend an afternoon in her company and it becomes impossible to look at a hedgerow in quite the same way again. The transformation has less to do with textiles than the woman herself, whose enthusiasm has a habit of making the ordinary appear extraordinary.
Her route here has been anything but predictable. Jane enrolled at Falmouth University aged 59, determined to discover something that would sustain her curiosity for the rest of her life. The decision came after years spent in banking, care work and innovation, with a patent already to her name. While visiting the university on an unrelated project, she found herself walking through the weaving department. Rows of looms stood waiting between teaching sessions. There was something about them that lingered in her thoughts long after she had left.
Life intervened before she returned. There was illness, the discovery that she was dyslexic and the loss of a close friend whose encouragement changed the direction of her life. He urged her to leave work that had become physically and emotionally draining. His advice proved decisive.
Creativity had already begun to take hold. Jane’s home was filled with rescued chickens, creatures she describes with genuine affection and admiration. Their personalities inspired a collection of stitched artworks celebrating their intelligence and character. The images found an audience well beyond Cornwall, appearing on greetings cards, mugs and cushions before catching the attention of a top Birmingham lawyer and owner at Tyndallwoods, Judy Dyke, who filled her offices with Jane’s work before organising an exhibition that opened with civic fanfare. The paintings carried a gentle message about respecting animals and recognising the lives behind the food people consume so casually.
Then everything changed again. The sudden death of her friend Howard Lyons, a professor at Sheffield Hallam University, on Christmas Day left Jane searching for purpose. During a charity fashion show, she found herself chatting with another mature student who happened to mention university. A coffee, a conversation and an application followed. Soon afterwards she was studying Textile design in Penryn, beginning a chapter that would redefine her life.
University offered far more than technical skills. It encouraged investigation. Jane became fascinated by sustainable fibres, examining flax, cotton and other natural materials before she even encountered nettles. The discovery was immediate and instinctive. She laughs that perhaps the plant chose her.
Research soon revealed a global community exploring the forgotten potential of nettle fibre. With yarn being difficult to source in Britain at the time, it eventually led Jane to suppliers in Nepal, where traditional methods had survived for generations. Each new discovery opened another door. Conversations with growers became conversations with researchers. Researchers became collaborators. Today she contributes to European initiatives exploring the future of nettle cultivation while continuing to experiment in her own Cornish studio. Through her growing initiative, Nettle Revolution, she now reconnects people with nettles through fibre, creativity, workshops and the rediscovery of plant wisdom.
Her enthusiasm extends beyond the finished fabric. Jane delights in explaining how fibres behave, why particular plants produce exceptional yarn and how materials return naturally to the soil at the end of their useful life. She speaks with the excitement of someone continually discovering something new, inviting others to join the journey.
The modest studio beside her home reflects that approach. Built during lockdown, it has evolved into a place where weaving, experimentation and conversation happen in unison. Shelves overflow with botanical samples, handmade yarns, woven textiles and curious objects collected through years of research.
Nothing appears beyond consideration. Dandelion stems become surprisingly durable cordage. Nasturtiums reveal unexpected strength. Hay is transformed into baskets. New Zealand flax becomes decorative forms that hint at ancient techniques still relevant today. Every object begins with the same question: what can this become?
That spirit of enquiry runs throughout Jane’s practice. She has little interest in treating craft as nostalgia. Traditional knowledge inspires because it continues to offer practical solutions. Skills once considered commonplace remain valuable in a world increasingly concerned with waste, environmental responsibility and the origins of the materials surrounding everyday life. What began with textiles has grown into a wider philosophy embracing nature, wellbeing and resilience, with Jane increasingly recognised as an educator and storyteller as much as a maker.
One of her most celebrated creations emerged almost accidentally. Tea bags had become an unlikely collection. Jane had been saving the compostable bags from her favourite tea, imagining they might one day become part of an artwork. An opportunity arose through Exeter University’s Environment and Sustainability Institute, where contributors were invited to create work using existing materials. Jane proposed making a dress, even though she had never made one before. Over six demanding weeks, more than 1,500 used tea bags became an elegant garment, strengthened through weaving and careful construction before being finished with vintage embroidery inherited from her grandmother. Professor Alan Alexander later adopted the story as an example of creative circular thinking, sharing it during conferences, public events and presentations, including at the House of Lords. Clipper Tea embraced the project, featuring the dress across its own channels and sending Jane a celebratory hamper.
The garment sits alongside another enduring passion: nettle textiles themselves. Her work has connected her with the documentary The Nettle Dress, where she appears in the film’s acknowledgements following early involvement with its development. For Jane, recognition matters less than the conversations these projects generate. Every exhibition, demonstration or workshop becomes an opportunity to encourage people to reconsider materials they have overlooked all their lives.
Teaching has become an increasingly important part of that mission. Jane enjoys introducing people to spinning, weaving and plant fibres, as well as the other amazing benefits to be gleaned from nettles – their ability to ease joint discomfort and nourish the blood, soothe the nervous system and their cleansing properties, to name a few. She wants visitors to leave with fresh curiosity. Once someone discovers that string can be made from dandelions or cloth from nettles, familiar landscapes acquire new meaning. Gardens become places of possibility, whilst hedgerows become living libraries. Her work now extends through Nettle Revolution and Nettology, bringing together practical craft, traditional knowledge and contemporary thinking in ways that encourage people to build a deeper relationship with the natural world.
Family remains close to everything she does. Jane is grandmother to eight, and much of her thinking centres on the world they will inherit. Presents are often handmade. They may puzzle younger recipients today, she admits with a smile, though she suspects their significance will become clearer in years to come. Passing knowledge from one generation to the next matters every bit as much as creating beautiful objects.
That generosity of spirit extends well beyond her family too. Visitors rarely leave empty-handed, whether carrying a newly learned skill, a handful of ideas or simply a fresh perspective. Jane possesses the rare ability to make enthusiasm contagious without ever becoming evangelical. She shares discoveries with warmth, humour and genuine delight.
It is tempting to describe Jane Gray as an artist, a weaver, a researcher or an environmental campaigner. Each description contains some truth, though none quite captures the whole picture. She is, above all, a storyteller. Her materials happen to be fibres, leaves, yarn and cloth, but the stories concern people and their relationship with the natural world. Every woven sample, every stitched piece and every experimental project asks the same simple question: what have we forgotten that deserves another look?
Perhaps that explains why an encounter with Jane lingers so long afterwards. You leave seeing weeds (as if there ever was such a misappropriated name) differently. You notice the fibres hidden inside familiar plants. You wonder what previous generations understood instinctively before the easy path obscured those lessons. Curiosity, it turns out, can be remarkably infectious and eye-opening.
Jane has built a creative practice from that simple instinct. One thread leads to another, another conversation sparks fresh research and every finished piece becomes the beginning of the next story. Somewhere along the way, the humble nettle has become an unlikely ambassador for imagination, resourcefulness and craftsmanship. Through Nettle Revolution, that conversation continues to grow, reaching well beyond textiles into a broader understanding of how plants can support creativity, health and resilience. Jane could not have planned that when she first paused outside a room filled with silent looms. Yet, looking back, every twist in the thread seems to have been waiting patiently to be woven together.
