As this year comes to a close, I’ll be taking a few days off to let the year settle and allow myself a deeper reflection. Not just on what happened at Aya Fiber Studio, but on why it mattered, and what we’re carrying forward.

People don’t come to Aya simply to take a workshop.
They come to arrive.

They arrive carrying full lives — responsibilities, uncertainty, grief, curiosity, and the quiet need to make something with their hands. The studio becomes a pause. A place where time slows, attention deepens, and the outside noise softens.

What happens here is more than learning a technique.
It’s presence.

Side by side at the worktables, beginners and experienced artists share space, stories, and process. Hands learn before words do. Mistakes are welcomed. Confidence grows quietly. Fiber art becomes a record of time spent paying attention — layered, thoughtful, and deeply personal.

Many return during this time of year because winter here feels generous — warm days, open doors, and the simple pleasure of working with fiber art and color as sunlight spills across the studio floor.

Here, we’re creating not just a workshop, but an experience — one shaped by light, warmth, shared time, and the simple act of making together.

They return for the rhythm of studio days — the hum of sewing machines, the scent of dye pots, the calm focus that comes from making alongside others. They return because creativity here isn’t rushed or reduced to an outcome. It’s honored as a process — one that unfolds at its own pace.

For our wider community, Aya Fiber Studio has become something increasingly rare: a dedicated space for fiber art, tradition, and connection. A place that supports artists, preserves knowledge, and keeps hands-on making alive in a time when such spaces are disappearing.

As this chapter closes, I’m deeply grateful — for the trust you place in this studio, for the conversations held over fabric and thread, and for the way this community continues to show up with curiosity, generosity, and heart. This season, filled with warmth and light, feels like an invitation to continue gathering, making, and carrying that energy forward.

Aya exists because people need places like this.
And it moves forward because of you — choosing, again and again, to make, to learn, and to belong.

With gratitude and hope for the year ahead,
Suzanne
Aya Fiber Studio

PS: As the new year begins, we’ll continue offering open studio time, memberships, and our thoughtfully designed workshops — simple ways to stay connected to your fiber art practice and the studio, at whatever pace feels right. There is still space in most workshops.

Links:
Open Studio Time: https://www.ayafiberstudio.com/open-studio-appointments
Membership Options: https://www.ayafiberstudio.com/membership
January Workshops: https://www.ayafiberstudio.com/workshops