At The Beginning Of Lockdown, I Quit My Job And Started Making Embroidered Landscapes, Here Are My Best 30 Works

In early 2020, my life revolved around email threads, video calls that could’ve been emails, and a desk plant that was barely clinging to life.
Then lockdown hit. Overnight, my commute shrank to the distance between my bed and my laptop, and the days started to blur together like a badly
blended watercolor wash. Somewhere between baking banana bread and rearranging the furniture for the third time, I picked up a tiny embroidery hoop…
and accidentally re-stitched my whole life.

I began making embroidered landscapes as a way to stay sane during stay-at-home orders. It was supposed to be a stress-relieving hobbysomething small,
portable, and quiet. Instead, it became my full-time job, my therapy, and my love letter to the outside world I couldn’t visit. Every little stitched hill
and painted sunset felt like opening a window in a closed room.

From Office Job To Embroidered Landscapes

Before lockdown, creativity fit into the leftover corners of my day. I’d scroll past incredible textile artists onlinepeople mixing thread, paint, and fabric
to create tiny worlds you could hold in your handand think, “One day, I’ll try that.” Lockdown basically handed me that “one day” on a silver platter.

Embroidery turned out to be the perfect lockdown hobby: cheap materials, minimal space, and an endless supply of online tutorials, patterns, and inspiration.
I started with basic stitchesbackstitch, satin stitch, French knotsthen slowly layered in more complex textures, blending thread colors the way you’d blend
acrylic paints on a palette. The more I stitched, the more I realized I wasn’t just passing time; I was building a new career, knot by knot.

At first, I stitched in the evenings after remote work, sharing photos on Instagram and craft forums. People were surprisingly enthusiastic. Comments started
to roll in: “This looks like a place I want to visit,” “Are you selling these?” “Can you do one of my hometown?” As commissions trickled in and my inbox
filled with requests, one question became unavoidable: Do I stay in the safe job that drains me, or jump into this slightly terrifying, thread-covered unknown?

A few months into lockdown, I did the thing everyone tells you not to do in a global crisisI quit my job. Instead of spreadsheets, I chose stitching fields,
forests, and oceans on fabric. It was risky, but for the first time in a long time, my work made me feel awake.

My Best 30 Embroidered Landscapes (And The Stories Behind Them)

These are 30 of my favorite embroidered landscape pieces from that wild, uncertain chapter. Some were commissions, some were experiments, and a few were
pure therapy pieces I stitched at 2 a.m. when the news felt too heavy. Together, they tell the story of how a lockdown hobby turned into a new life.

1. “Quarantine Window View”

This was the first landscape where everything clicked. It’s a view of my actual street at dusk: peachy sky, dark tree silhouettes, and a single glowing window.
I layered long and short stitches for the sky, then added tiny French-knot stars. It reminded me that even when we’re stuck inside, we’re all lit-up windows in
the same night.

2. “Golden Hour Over Empty Streets”

Inspired by those quiet early-evening walks when the world felt eerie and beautiful at the same time. The streets are empty, but the clouds are stitched in
warm yellows and pinks. I blended three shades of thread for each stripe of sky, like a gradient you’d normally see in a photo filter.

3. “Forest I Can’t Visit Yet”

I used to hike on weekends. During lockdown, I turned to reference photos instead. This hoop is all deep greens and layered tree trunks, created with split
stitch and lazy daisy leaves. It became my way of taking a walk in the woods without leaving the living room.

4. “Tiny Coastal Town At Night”

Picture a dark navy sea, a moon stitched with metallic thread, and little white houses with golden windows. This piece taught me how much personality you can
pack into a 4-inch hoopespecially when you mix matte cotton thread with shiny metallic accents.

5. “Lavender Fields Forever”

Rows of purple French knots for the flowers, long stitches for the field, and a pale blue sky. People kept asking if it was based on a real place, and honestly,
it’s a mash-up of every dreamy lavender photo I’ve ever seen online.

6. “Sunset Over the Balcony Plants”

Lockdown turned my balcony into a jungle. This piece features potted plants in the foreground and a streaky sunset sky behind them, with thread-painting
techniques to blend the oranges, pinks, and blues.

7. “Storm Over The City”

Grey satin-stitched clouds, tiny backstitched raindrops, and a row of buildings in muted tones. It was my way of stitching the uncertainty of 2020a little
gloomy but still strangely beautiful.

8. “Lockdown Lakeside”

Inspired by a lake I used to visit in summer. I stitched the water in horizontal rows of blue and teal, adding white highlights like ripples. It quickly became
one of my most requested commission styles.

9. “Midnight Mountain Range”

Dark indigo mountains with snowcaps in white thread, and a sky full of scattered French-knot stars. This one taught me how powerful negative space can be in
embroiderymost of the sky is just fabric, with tiny bursts of thread.

10. “Neighborhood Park, 6 Feet Apart”

A small park scene with two benches carefully spaced apart, a tree in full bloom, and a walking path. It’s a little time capsule of social distancing rules,
stitched in surprisingly cheerful colors.

11. “Overgrown Garden Escape”

This hoop is all chaos and color: wildflowers, tangled vines, and a slightly crooked wooden gate. I used layered lazy daisy stitches and French knots to build
texture and depth, like a mini Impressionist painting.

12. “Pastel Desert At Dawn”

Soft pink and orange dunes, tiny embroidered cacti, and a pale sun just above the horizon. It’s one of my simplest compositions, but it remains one of the
most shared images I’ve ever posted.

13. “Snowy Cabin Comfort”

A lone cabin with smoke rising from the chimney, surrounded by stitched snowdrifts. I used clusters of French knots for snowy bushes and stitched the smoke in
delicate, swirling backstitches.

14. “City Rooftops At 8 PM”

Inspired by those moments when everyone went out on their balconies to clap, cheer, or just breathe. A patchwork of roofs, antennas, and tiny rooftop gardens
fills the hoop, all in warm, muted tones.

15. “Seaside Cliff Path”

A winding path curves along a cliff, with embroidered waves crashing below. I used couching for the path and layered satin stitches for the ocean, mixing
different blues for dimension.

16. “Golden Wheat Field”

Long, vertical stitches in shades of gold and beige create tall grass, with a soft blue sky above. It’s a simple palette, but the movement in the thread makes
it feel like the wind is always blowing.

17. “Rainy Window Reflection”

This piece mimics raindrops on glass, with blurred shapes of trees and buildings beyond. I used scattered seed stitches as “raindrops” and blended greens and
greys in the background.

18. “Field Of Wildflowers, No Filter Needed”

This one is basically a celebration of French knots. A whole meadow of flowers in pink, yellow, and white, with a pale sky. It took forever, but it became a
customer favorite for custom color palettes.

19. “Mid-Summer Night On The Porch”

A porch railing, a potted plant, and a dark sky with a full moon. I stitched the shadows in cool greys, which made the warm tones of the house feel extra cozy.

20. “Hometown Hills Reimagined”

Based on photos a client sent of their childhood home. Green rolling hills, a winding road, and a single, tiny house. It showed me how emotional landscape
embroidery can be when it’s tied to personal memories.

21. “Orange Grove Sunrise”

Rows of tiny embroidered orange trees, each fruit a French knot. The sky shifts from pale pink to soft blue. This piece smelled like citrus in my mind the
entire time I worked on it.

22. “Foggy Harbor Morning”

Soft greys and blues, with faint outlines of boats and docks. I left parts of the fabric bare to suggest mist. It’s quiet, calm, and one of my personal
favorites.

23. “Backyard Camping Under the Stars”

Remember when backyard camping became the new vacation? This hoop features a tiny embroidered tent, a stitched campfire, and a sky filled with stars. It’s
pure nostalgia.

24. “Cherry Blossom Street”

An avenue of trees exploding in pink, created with layered French knots and lazy daisy petals. The petals “fall” across the path, made with scattered stitches.

25. “Ocean Cliffs At Sunset”

Bold, rocky cliffs stitched in dark browns and greys, crashing waves in white and teal, and a gradient sky transitioning from orange to purple. This one felt
like painting with thread.

26. “Quiet Farmhouse Morning”

A tiny farmhouse, a stitched fence, and soft, misty fields surrounding it. I focused on muted, desaturated colors to capture the feeling of early morning air.

27. “Road Trip I Didn’t Take”

A long highway leading toward distant mountainsstitched as if you’re looking through a windshield. It became a symbol of all the trips we postponed, turned
instead into daydreams and embroidery.

28. “Lakeside Cabin at Blue Hour”

The sky is deep blue, the water even darker, and the cabin glows with warm yellow light. I used satin stitch reflections on the water to mirror the lights.

29. “Patchwork Fields From Above”

Inspired by aerial embroidery styles, this landscape is a grid of stitched fields in green, gold, and brown. It looks like a quilt made out of farmland.

30. “The First Walk After Lockdown”

The most emotional piece for me: a simple country path, open sky, and two tiny embroidered figures walking side by side. It captures that first moment of
cautious freedom, when the world felt both familiar and brand new.

How Embroidery Helped Me Cope With Lockdown

Hand embroidery became my daily ritual. Studies and countless personal stories have highlighted how slow, repetitive crafts can ease anxiety, improve focus,
and provide a sense of control when everything feels chaotic. Stitching gave me a rhythm: thread, pull, knot, repeat. I couldn’t fix the world, but I could
finish this sky, this tree, this tiny stitched ocean.

Sharing my work online connected me to people who were going through the same uncertaintyother artists who’d turned to embroidery during lockdown, people
who hadn’t picked up a needle since childhood, and total beginners who were trying their first hoop kits. My comment sections became little support groups
stitched together across time zones.

Financially, the transition from “I just like stitching” to “this is my job now” was scary. But commissions, print sales, and small online shop releases
gradually built up. Lockdown radically changed how we think about work, side hustles, and creative careers. For me, embroidery wasn’t just a pandemic trend;
it was a complete reroute.

Extra: Of Lessons From Quitting My Job To Stitch Landscapes

Looking back, quitting my job during lockdown to make embroidered landscapes sounds dramatic, like the plot of an indie movie where someone finds themselves
through yarn and questionable life choices. But the truth is quieter and more ordinary: I was burned out, scared, and desperate for something that actually
felt like mine.

The first lesson I learned is that a “real job” is not a personality trait. Before I left my office role, I attached a huge chunk of my identity to job titles,
performance reviews, and productivity metrics. Hand embroidery did not care about any of that. A hoop doesn’t ask for a résumé; it just asks for time and
attention. Slowly, I started valuing my days based on what I created, not how many meetings I survived.

The second big lesson was about pace. Corporate life trained me to rush: answer quickly, ship fast, multitask like your life depends on it. Embroidery is the
opposite. You can’t sprint through a field of French knots. You can’t fast-forward a gradient sky. If you try to rush, the fabric puckers, the thread tangles,
and your wrists complain. Lockdown forced the whole world to slow down; embroidery taught me how to live there without losing my mind.

I also discovered how much people crave tactile, handmade thingsespecially in a digital age. During lockdown, we spent so much time staring at screens that
a tiny stitched landscape felt strangely grounding. Clients told me they hung hoops near their desks as “windows” when they couldn’t travel, or gifted pieces
to friends they hadn’t seen in months. My work stopped being just “pretty art” and started feeling like a small emotional service: delivering tiny stitched
vacations.

Of course, there were very unglamorous parts. I had to learn how to price my work without apologizing, how to photograph embroidery so the texture shows, how
to pack and ship hoops without them getting crushed in transit. I learned that “doing what you love” still involves spreadsheetsonly now they’re yours, and
they track thread colors, order deadlines, and supply costs instead of quarterly targets.

One of my favorite experiences came from a client who asked me to recreate the view from their grandparents’ farmhouse. They sent blurry old photos and a
long email full of memories: the way the light hit the barn at sunset, the color of the wildflowers by the fence. I stitched it all into a 6-inch hoop and
mailed it off. Weeks later, they messaged me to say their grandmother cried when she saw it. That was the moment I realized this wasn’t “just embroidery.”
It was a way to preserve places and feelings, to turn someone’s emotional landscape into an embroidered one.

If you’re standing where I wasburned out, staring at a hobby that secretly feels bigger than “just for fun”here’s what I’d say: you don’t have to quit
your job tomorrow, sell everything, and move into a cottage with endless thread (tempting, though). Start by giving your craft consistent time and treating
it with respect. Share your work, even if it feels scary. Learn basic business skills. Let your creativity be something serious and joyful at the
same time.

Lockdown will always be a strange, painful chapter in our collective story. For me, it’ll also be the chapter where I stitched my way out of a life that didn’t
fit and into one where a tiny embroidery hoop holds entire worlds. These 30 landscapes are more than pieces of fabricthey’re proof that sometimes, when
everything else stops, you finally hear what you really want to do.