Tatting, the word if recognized at all, typically conjures up one of three quick thoughts for the average person: Tattoos (which is a good guess), a lost art (a very commonly used term), or something delicate and difficult that our grandmothers made.  

For the creative who has embraced tatting, whether shuttle or needle tatting, you know it firsthand: the twists, the turns, the tension, the knots, the picots, and the thread tail. For some, it is the ultimate challenge; for others, it’s a perfect form of relaxation, a therapy, a new handcraft to try, a way to explore history, or to reconnect with the memory of loved ones.

Crochet, knitting, etc., are fabulous handcrafts, and their contribution to the arts and crafts scene is massive and dynamic. Tatting, in comparison, ebbs and flows in popularity and primarily stays in its category of a “delicate” pretty lace.

Full disclosure: I’m not a lacey person. Don’t get me wrong; I love lace handiwork and styling for other people. But it’s just not me. I’ve always been a tomboy, a girl who grew up sandwiched between three brothers.  You can find me more often in overalls than a lace-adorned dress. Then why tat?

I’ve been tatting now longer than I haven’t been. To clarify that, I’ve been tatting for over 20 years, easily clocking my 10,000 hours. But of all the crafts I’ve done/do, it’s the art form that I keep going back to. The mystery is why?

Tatting is often misunderstood and, in my opinion, a breathtakingly under-explored medium.

Viewed as delicate, tatting can appear fragile. But it’s not fragile at its core. Tatting evolved from the strong and durable structure of the cow hitch or lark’s head knot, used since the first century as a sling knot for transporting objects, and as an essential medical and nautical knot—a knot rooted in pure practicality and function. Tatting has become decorative, true enough, but it still maintains that tough structure. How can something innately frivolous be practical and functional as well?

There, in its backstory, are the clues to tatting’s fascination for me: simultaneously capable of beauty, simplicity, and strength.  A fiber art that when it becomes damaged, does not easily unravel.

Tatting is not just another pretty lace. It is something special.