Form and Function Creative

Form and Function Creative Free-spirited fiber artist and farmer inspired by nature and stories. I am a farmer and fiber artist behind the company, Form & Function Creative.

I live with my family on an alpaca farm that focuses on regenerative practices and provides the fleece that I spin into yarn and weave into fiber art. Finding inspiration in nature and stories, my work reflects my love for art as both product and practice, creating fiber art that embodies the elements of joy, connection and gratitude.

🌊 Where's My Loom WednesdayThis week, my loom is in the garden. Among the weeds.The moon is in the waxing gibbous phase ...
05/27/2026

🌊 Where's My Loom Wednesday

This week, my loom is in the garden. Among the weeds.
The moon is in the waxing gibbous phase — nearly full, still building. The kind of moment that asks you to keep tending even when you can't see the end of it.

Here I am, needle in hand, doing exactly that.
If you're tracking with The Slow Practice — today's thread is about tending anyway. The weeds make good company for that. ❤️

🌊 Where's My Loom WednesdayThis week, I brought one of my horizon weavings back to the actual horizon.The moon is in the...
05/21/2026

🌊 Where's My Loom Wednesday

This week, I brought one of my horizon weavings back to the actual horizon.

The moon is in the waxing crescent phase — the slow, in-between phase that asks us to make space rather than chase. Here I am holding the loom up to where the water meets the sky.

If you're tracking with The Slow Practice — today's whisper is listening before speaking. The ocean is good company for that.

Today, on the new moon — doors are open.The Slow Practice. A membership community for those of us learning to move at th...
05/16/2026

Today, on the new moon — doors are open.

The Slow Practice. A membership community for those of us learning to move at the pace of our own lives.

Twenty Founding Threads. $19/month, locked in forever.

Link in bio. 🌙

A few Founding Threads spots are still open.The Slow Practice opens this Saturday on the new moon. Twenty members, $19/m...
05/13/2026

A few Founding Threads spots are still open.

The Slow Practice opens this Saturday on the new moon. Twenty members, $19/month locked in forever, the kind of slow membership a Wednesday morning makes room for.

Link in bio if it's been tugging at you.

The Slow Practice opens on the new moon — Saturday, May 16.A membership community for those of us learning to move at th...
05/06/2026

The Slow Practice opens on the new moon — Saturday, May 16.

A membership community for those of us learning to move at the pace of our own lives.

Rooted in fiber, in nature, in the wisdom of making things by hand.

Twenty Founding Threads. $19 a month, locked in forever.

If something in you is tired of moving at a pace that isn't yours, this is for you.
Link in bio. 🌙

🦥 Slow is a superpower.I learned that from my daughter, Claire. One morning, her slowness — the very thing the world is ...
05/03/2026

🦥 Slow is a superpower.

I learned that from my daughter, Claire. One morning, her slowness — the very thing the world is always trying to hurry out of her — kept her from being caught in a school lock-down . She came back pleased and a little proud. Her slowness had, for one morning, been a kind of superpower.

This stayed with me. I kept thinking about what slowness actually does for us. The way it lets us be present. The way it keeps us from jumping ahead before we've finished the moment we're in. The way it lets us savor.

So I'm building something for the people who are tired of moving at a pace that isn't theirs. It's called The Slow Practice. A membership community for those of us learning — or relearning — how to move at the pace of our own lives. Rooted in fiber, in nature, in the wisdom of making things by hand. About process, not purpose. About slowness as a kind of superpower.

Doors open on the new moon of Saturday, May 16. Twenty Founding Threads — locked in at $19/month, forever. After that, regular membership opens at $35.

Link in bio if it tugs at you, even gently. 🌙

~ Graphic by Claire ❤️

**usSeason

🌊 Where's My Loom WednesdayStill on the hoop — deep blues and sky in late-winter gold, finding its way around.This piece...
04/22/2026

🌊 Where's My Loom Wednesday
Still on the hoop — deep blues and sky in late-winter gold, finding its way around.

This piece and others like it will travel with me Saturday to Local Cloth's FiberFestival at Hickory Nut Gap Farm. A day of slow-made things among other fiber farmers and artists — the kind of company that reminds me why I do this work.

I've spent part of each day making in the lead-up, a quiet rhythm of hands and fiber. A fitting way to settle into Ta**us season — a season for rooting, tending, returning to what feels real.

I'll be bringing handwoven art on hoops and in frames, woven bookmarks, and handmade yarn-paper notebooks and cards. And from the farm: magic marbles (aka our alpacas' generous contribution to your garden), fresh fleece from this spring's shearing, and hanging crescent moon nests for the birds who'll find your garden this summer.

🌊 Where's My Loom WednesdayThis week, I brought my loom to the beach for my birthday.There's something about weaving at ...
04/15/2026

🌊 Where's My Loom Wednesday

This week, I brought my loom to the beach for my birthday.

There's something about weaving at the water's edge that slows everything down in the best way. The sound of the waves. The sand. The people I love most beside me.

It reminded me why this practice matters — not just what it makes, but what it creates around it. Presence. Connection. A reason to pause and just be exactly where you are.

This is what I want more of. In my work, and in my life.

🌱 Where’s My Loom Wednesday This week, my loom is cozying up to the seedlings I planted a few weeks ago. I’ve been watch...
03/25/2026

🌱 Where’s My Loom Wednesday

This week, my loom is cozying up to the seedlings I planted a few weeks ago. I’ve been watching—and waiting—to see what might take, and when.

And now, small bits of green breaking through.

This tending phase reminds me how much I’m drawn to the process of things—the quiet, in-between moments where nothing looks like it’s changing, even when it is.

And the gift that lives in that in-between: the care, the attention, the returning.

Aries season brings that spark of starting—but even beginnings need time, tending, and space to grow into something real.

So for now, I’m here—�tending what’s been planted,�and trusting the process of what’s becoming.
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🌊  Where’s My Loom WednesdayThis week, my loom is standing at the edge of the ocean.I’ve been thinking about this transi...
03/18/2026

🌊 Where’s My Loom Wednesday

This week, my loom is standing at the edge of the ocean.

I’ve been thinking about this transition between seasons—the quiet shift that happens before spring arrives. A softening. A letting go. Making space for what’s ready to come next.

The water has a way of reminding me of that. The steady rhythm of waves, the feeling of it moving over your feet, the quiet invitation to release what you’ve been holding.

It’s easy to think we need to do something to move forward. But sometimes, it’s enough to simply stand there. To listen. To let the water wash over what’s ready to be carried away.

Making space. Trusting what’s beneath the surface. Letting things settle so something new can begin to take shape.

More to come soon. ❤️

🌱  Where’s My Loom WednesdayThis week, my loom found its way into the seed-starting season.Planting seeds is one of my f...
03/11/2026

🌱 Where’s My Loom Wednesday

This week, my loom found its way into the seed-starting season.

Planting seeds is one of my favorite rituals of spring. I love the feel of the dirt on my hands, the quiet focus of opening each little packet, and placing every seed carefully into its own small space. Each one a beginning. Each one holding the possibility of becoming something much bigger than itself.

There’s something grounding about the process—slowing down enough to pay attention to each tiny seed, considering what it might grow into, and trusting the unseen work that happens beneath the soil.

Behind the scenes, I’ve been planting a few seeds of my own—tending new ideas, making small shifts in my work, and imagining what this next season might grow into. It feels tender and hopeful in the same way a newly planted garden does.

For now, I’m here with the dirt, the seeds, and the quiet reminder that every beginning starts small.

More to come soon. ❤️

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Gastonia, NC

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