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Sarah Burns | Pattern Maker

In a former chicken shed in the Sussex Downs, Sarah Burns hand-block prints textiles using natural dyes foraged from the surrounding woods and fields. Inspired by the seasons, her work revives traditional techniques and has earned recognition from the King's Foundation for British Craft. A former economist turned textile artist, Sarah reflects on the enduring artistry of block printing and the rich heritage of natural dyeing.

How did you come to your craft?

"I've always been a printer. I've always printed every day and am obsessed with pattern-making. So I decided to take that seriously when I went to Chelsea and learned how to do it properly."

"I specialised in digital print at Chelsea and got a first. I started playing with natural dye then as well. After Chelsea, I worked at Ivo Print in Southall, one of the last screen-printing companies, where I learned the craft and got to know the interior market."

"I started selling my prints to interior designers, who knew I was a block printer and asked me to design for them. That gave me enough money to launch my collection. At the same time, I wrote a book on the 1930s block printers Phyllis Barron and Dorothy Larcher because I felt their story hadn't been fully told. They only used vegetable dyes, and while I loved the craft at Ivo's, the synthetic dyes were quite toxic. So I decided to establish my practice in Sussex using only natural dyes." 

Was it something you always aspired to do or a serendipitous journey?

"I've always been drawn to pattern-making and printing, but I never imagined it could become a full-time career. It felt like a dream rather than a real possibility. My path was quite winding. I studied Politics at Cambridge and worked as an economist before attending Chelsea College of Art. There, I realised how much I wanted to work with textiles. Learning from inspiring and tenacious craftswomen like Mikhail Pietsch showed me that through hard work and commitment, you can carve out your own space in the industry."

"When I started working with natural dyes, it felt like a niche interest, and convincing people of its value was challenging. I remember exhibiting at Guy Goodfellow's showroom, and someone from Sibyl Colefax asked, 'What happens when these fabrics fade?' I told them, 'I'll redye them,' they looked completely baffled. Back then, the idea of embracing impermanence wasn't widely accepted, but now, with sustainability at the forefront, people are much more open to it. It was serendipitous. I kept following what I loved, and eventually, the world caught up with it." 

How and where did you learn your technique?

"I've always cut lino blocks. I learned how to print at Working Men's College in Camden, but I learned my trade at Ivo Textiles in Southall. That was where I understood how to make a repeat pattern, balance colour, and avoid designs that felt too 'stripey.'"

"Much of my knowledge comes from studying historic textiles, particularly the Barron and Larcher fabrics, seeing how they used blocks and natural dyes. 20th-century block printers like Enid Marx inspire me, but ultimately, my inspiration comes from actually cutting the block." 

How do you plan, prepare, and execute your work?

"I don't start with detailed sketchbooks. My designs come from printing, recutting, and reprinting rather than working on paper first."

"With block printing, the edges matter most. How the block meets itself determines whether the pattern breathes and feels alive. The fabric is also key; its weave determines the character of the cloth."

"I work with heavier linens and hemp from Northern and Eastern Europe, and I'm excited by the Fibre Craft movement in the UK, where people are reviving small-scale flax growing. In the past, people would have grown a small patch of flax to make their linen, processing it communally. With climate change, flax grown in Northern France is being pushed further north, just as wine production has moved further up. We're in a period of real change for fibre production."

"I also work seasonally with dyes. My yellow comes in July when the weld is ready. I use fruit tree prunings in winter for pinks and yellows, and I just got a batch of bay cuttings, which yield a lovely deep reddish tone. This seasonal rhythm is important. It reminds us that we can't always have everything all of the time."

Who or what most influences your work?

"My biggest influences are the early 20th-century block printers, particularly Phyllis Barron and Dorothy Larcher, whose work with natural dyes and hand-carved blocks was genuinely pioneering. I admire Enid Marx, who drew from British folk traditions and museum collections to create timeless patterns. Looking at their fabrics in archives—seeing how they handled repeat patterns, colour, and texture has taught me so much.

"My environment plays a huge role, too. Living and working in the Sussex Downs means constantly responding to the landscape. The rhythm of the seasons determines the colours I work with. Each dye reflects the plants available at a given time of year. I also take inspiration from historical chintz-making traditions, mainly Indian textile techniques from the 17th century, where patterns were built up through layers of mordant and dye. "And then there's the process itself. My real inspiration comes from cutting the block. I don't start with sketchbooks full of ideas. Instead, I design by printing, refining, and recutting until I find the balance I'm looking for. Pattern-making is about rhythm; like music, it has to flow naturally."

Are there any themes running through your work?

"Nature's colour palette is central, such as the subtle, knocked-back hues with a quiet harmony. Working within constraints is another. You must contemplate what fabric is available and what colours are in season. My work sits within a global tradition of natural dyeing and pattern-making that stretches back centuries."

What does a typical day look like?

 "I work in an old chicken shed on a smallholding near Steyning. My day starts with a five-minute cycle to the workshop, where I check on the dye vats to see how the colours are developing. We work with minimal energy, steeping rather than boiling natural matter."

"Alice and I plan the day, dividing tasks between dyeing, printing, and preparing orders. On Fridays, we drive around delivering fabric. This is our little DHL service! I also write, which gives me time to think before heading into the workshop to print, carve blocks, or mix new dye pastes using seaweed. My daily dog walks up the Downs are important too; they help me spot plants coming into the season that I might want to experiment with."

What are the best and worst things about being a craftsperson today?

"The best thing is the freedom to work directly with materials and connect with clients through social media. We control our own stories. The downside is that it can be isolating, so I teach at West Dean and open the workshop on Fridays for other makers to visit. It's important to stay connected and keep learning."

"There's also a danger of getting too precious about your work. I see myself as a part of a much bigger tradition of natural dyeing and block printing. The best patterns were made 800 years ago! My job is to keep learning from and contributing to that history."

An object you'll never part with?

"My collection of old wooden printing blocks. Each one tells a story and holds the marks of the craftspeople who carved them before me."

The career you'd be doing if you weren't a craftsperson?

"I'd still be working with ideas in a different form. Before textiles, I worked as an economist, researching new sustainability models and alternative approaches. That way of thinking still influences my approach to craft: questioning systems, working outside the mainstream, and finding beautiful and ethical solutions.

"If I weren't a craftsperson, I'd probably be writing full-time. I've always been drawn to storytelling; pattern-making is another way of telling a story through rhythm, repetition, and colour. I've already written one book on Phyllis Barron and Dorothy Larcher, and I'm working on another for Bloomsbury about the history of English block printing. So, if I weren't at the print table, I'd likely be deep in research, surrounded by archives and ink-stained notebooks."

A place or space that inspires you?

"My workshop, because it's where everything comes together. From the smell of dye vats, the rhythm of printing, the view of the Downs. But I also love old textile archives, where you can trace the history of printmaking through the layers of cloth."

Interview by Emma Becque
Images from Miguel Flores-Vianna