The Hidden Dye Logs of the Petrov Embroidery Loft

The Embroidery Loft breathes stillness, threads lying in frozen arcs. A hoop rests over an unfinished sampler, its pattern interrupted mid-stitch.

Life in Thread

These implements belonged to Anastasia Petrov, needlework artisan (b.

1878, St. Petersburg), trained in a family atelier yet providing commissions for local gentry. Her fine notes, written in neat Cyrillic, record silk quantities and stitch sequences. A small slip referencing her niece, Irina Petrov, “collect sampler Friday,” implies a disciplined, patient rhythm of work, punctuated by careful dye mixing and thread sorting.

Threads and Precision

On the central table, spools are arranged by hue, needles aligned in pin rolls. Bowls of natural dye powders sit beside a dampened brush. A ledger tucked beneath a folded cloth lists completed samplers and fees. Partially finished panels lean against a wall, each stitch meticulously counted. The measured pattern on a sheet indicates an interrupted attempt at a floral border.

Signs of Decline

Later entries in Anastasia’s logs show inconsistent stitch counts and uneven dye batches. Several threads lie knotted and tangled, while a note—“client complaint unresolved”—is folded beneath a spool. Panels exhibit irregular tension, some partially frayed. Fatigue and failing eyesight caused her meticulous work to falter, leaving samplers incomplete and dye recipes abandoned mid-preparation.

In the Loft’s final drawer, Anastasia’s last stitch count ends abruptly, pattern rows left incomplete. A penciled note—“finish for Irina”—stops mid-word.

No record explains her sudden cessation of work, nor why Irina never retrieved the samplers.

The house remains abandoned, threads and dyes frozen in quiet incompletion, every stitch awaiting hands that will not return.