Once I’d done Manekineko I had a look at the local craft stores for new cross-stitch patterns. They were all dolphins jumping over rainbows, and teddy bears, and other patterns that people’s Grandmas might like. I didn’t like them. So I started thinking about what images had resonance for me, what represented things that had been part of my life so far.

All your base are belong to us - screenshot
Then it hit me. I had spent a lot of my leisure time from age 9 to 20 playing arcade games. Arcade games from that period (1979 – 1992) were perfect for cross-stitch patterns. They had a limited colour pallete, 256 for the newer games, and even less for the older ones. The images in the games had all been created as pixel art, rather than using 3D rendering engines.
I had also recently seen the ‘All your base are belong to us‘ flash animation on the web (this was about 2001), and like many people at the time I thought it was clever, and virally compelling.

All your base are belong to us
I decided therefore to cross-stitch Cats, the evil guy from Zero Wing, the arcade game that inspired the flash animation. I simply took a screen shot of the image of Cats, printed it out, then went to a craft store and choose the colours by eye. It went surprisingly well, although the contrast in some areas wasn’t ideal. I finished this some time in early 2003.
The original image of Cats (above) has big purple flowing robes but I didn’t want to spend the time stitching them. They would be beautiful but I didn’t have the patience at the time. If I was doing this one again, I would have done it on black Aida cloth, and maybe just done part of the cowl of his cape.
Somehow though, I quite like the disembodied, ‘bust’ like nature of this piece. It represents the removal (multiple times) of the image from its original context in the Japanese Zero Wing arcade game. That is, the game was ported by Sega Europe who poorly translated the language into English. It was then, years later, made into a flash animation remix that created a viral buzz on the web. I then took it, and painstakingly re-rendered part of it in an archaic, physical medium, normally associated with flowers, teddy bears and other innocuous imagery. Seen here it is so far removed from its inception, that Cats looks somehow more friendly, less evil, and lonely, or lost.
Disclaimer- although I’m now an IT consultant, my undergraduate degree is in Art History, so I may occasionally fall in to verbose, indulgent, grandiloquent and loquacious analyses of my cross-stitch. If I do, please forgive me.
My partner refers to this piece as a geek version of a ‘Home Sweet Home’ sampler that is common in old fashioned cross-stitch.
Returning to its true form
My work and that of others in the Christchurch Creative Space was featured in an animated article by MsBehaviour of Mohawk Media.
There’s something that fascinates me about the finished product of craft/art not being the physical object itself, but the digital representations of the object.
People often ask me “what are you going to do with it when it’s finished” when they see me working on a piece of cross-stitch. My answer is almost always “take a photo of it and put it on the web, what else would I do with it?”. The actual finished physical pieces just sit in a folder in a cupboard, they’re not the point of the work, the point is to take things from the digital realm, reproduce them in a medium that takes a lot of effort and thought to give them a vibrancy and three dimensionality, then return them to whence they came.
I think partly this is because all of my career has been about publishing things digitally, but it also comes back to my training as an art historian. The Mona Lisa is not the small, somewhat unimpressive and grimy looking physical collection of dried paintstrokes in the Louvre in Paris, it is the picture of the painting in millions of books, and the memory of the image in the minds of millions of people.
I’m not sure if this thinking goes against the ‘take back control of the material production process’ ethic of the maker/crafter culture, or whether it runs alongside it in a complementary way, as the divide between the digital and physical worlds increasingly and inevitably blur.
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