If you've got a junk drawer full of scraps, brads you've been saving for years, odd bits of ribbon and fabric, and embellishments that somehow never make it onto anything — this is the video for you. Episode 2 of my Scrap Busting series is a real-time 20-minute creative session where I pull a handful of random things from my junk drawer and make something out of them, with a timer running the whole time.
What we cover
This isn't a structured tutorial — it's a filmed creative practice session. I set a timer for 20 minutes, pull scraps at random, and work through layering, sewing, gluing, and embellishing until time is up. You also get a flip-through of previous sessions from the series, including one I genuinely disliked and kept anyway.
What you'll learn
The "choose to use" mindset for hoarded embellishments — I have brads I've owned for many Christmases and never touched because they didn't quite fit my usual aesthetic. In this session I use a Christmas brad on a decidedly non-Christmas piece, and it works. The principle: stop saving things for the perfect moment and just use them now.
How layering random scraps can generate direction — I go into these sessions without a plan. A Ferrero Rocher wrapper, tea bag remnants, fabric scraps, ribbon from a gift bag, handmade poured-acrylic buttons — I lay pieces down and see where they want to go rather than deciding in advance. The composition finds itself.
Sewing as a quick structural and decorative fix — I don't bring the sewing machine to the desk because setup time eats into the session. Instead I use hand stitching to hold pieces in place and to solve a straight-edge problem I don't like the look of. A little thread can resolve a lot.
Using brads from thrift stores and op-shops — mine came from upcycle shops over the years, and the box has been sitting largely untouched. This session I commit to attaching brads regardless of whether they match my usual style. The red Christmas brad ends up being exactly right.
Fake writing / asemic writing as a finishing layer — toward the end of the session I consider adding writing, worry briefly that I'll ruin what I've made, and then do it anyway — very small, very loose. It works. Asemic writing adds texture and movement without demanding legible content.
Stapling thread as an attachment method — I try stapling a piece of thread to the collage, decide it's too much, and undo it. Worth seeing: the process of making a choice and reversing it is part of the practice, not a mistake to hide.
Sitting with results you don't love — I show the piece from yesterday's session, which I genuinely dislike, alongside today's, which I love. Both come from the same drawer, the same timer, the same process. Some sessions produce something beautiful; some don't. Keeping the footage either way is honest.
Tips & gotchas
Set a timer before you start, and mean it. Twenty minutes sounds short but it's long enough to make something real. The constraint is what makes the session productive — without it, I'd spend the first ten minutes rearranging pieces and second-guessing every choice.
The "choose to use" principle is worth taking seriously. Most of us have at least one box of brads, a sheet of stickers, or a pack of embellishments we've been holding back for the right project. The right project is the one in front of you. I'd had that Christmas brad through multiple Christmases and it sat unused because it didn't fit my usual aesthetic. It fit this project perfectly precisely because I committed to using it rather than waiting.
Don't worry about pieces being glued down completely during play sessions like these. Some things are just resting on the surface, held by a stitch or a brad or a dab of glue in one spot. That's fine. The goal is creative momentum, not archival permanence.
If you're considering adding writing and you're afraid it'll ruin what you've made — go small. Asemic writing worked here because I kept it very small and very loose. It adds something without demanding attention.
And if a session produces something you hate: keep the footage anyway. I almost didn't post the first episode because I disliked the piece. Watching someone else work through a session that didn't go well is genuinely useful — it's a reminder that the practice has value independent of the result.
I'm thinking about gathering mine into some kind of flip book — though several of the pieces are chunky enough that I'll need to work out the binding structure. That's a problem I'm looking forward to solving.
