Tiny Monsters, Big Feelings. Sarah Badran on felting, humour, and letting go of perfect.

cgoucher
May 25
5 min read

Sarah Badran didn’t set out to become a felting artist. It started with a book, a bit of curiosity, and a material that felt right in her hands.

What followed is a practice shaped by movement, motherhood, and a willingness to let go of perfect. Her work moves between playful and grounded. Tiny felt monsters with backstories sit alongside scarves built through careful experimentation.

There’s humour, but also something deeper. A quiet reflection of how people carry things, make sense of them, and keep going.

What first drew you into felting, and when did it start to feel like your creative home?
I really just stumbled across it. I was wandering through a used book shop one day and came across a book about wet felting. I had never heard of it before, but it looked interesting, so I bought the book and started reading. Soon I was experimenting with small projects and found it fascinating that you could take this seemingly delicate wool fiber, and just by adding water, soap and a little elbow grease, it could be turned into a strong, durable fabric. I’ve always been drawn to art forms that are more tactile and physical where I can manipulate the materials with my hands.

I think it started feeling like my creative home when I started moving from place to place. With any art practice, you need supplies, and ideally a space to work (and storage as a bonus!). When I started felting, I was in grad school, but once I finished, I no longer had a studio space (and haven’t had one since). The nice thing about felting is that it doesn’t require a lot of supplies, and the ones you do need are minimal and light weight, so I could take it with me anywhere I went. So it began as curiosity and a matter of circumstance, but over time I became more drawn to the material. It’s so versatile, and has so much potential.

Side Note: There are two different types of felting that I do; needle felting and wet felting
- Needle felting is when you repeatedly push a barbed needle through wool which causes the fiber to interlock and form a shape. You can also do this on a flat surface for more of a painterly look
- Wet felting is when you layer wool, add warm soapy water, and agitate it on a bumpy surface. The more you work the wool, the more the fibers tangle, shrink and form a fabric (think of putting a wool sweater in the washing machine)
What do you love most about the physical process of needle felting?
The sound and the feeling of the needle going through the fibers are both very satisfying. I like to joke that it’s a great stress reliever because you are repeatedly stabbing an object until it makes the shape you want.
Your work has such a playful spirit (I’m still thinking about those tiny felt monster magnets with full backstories). What draws you to that kind of whimsy?
My work has always had a sense of playfulness and humour, and I think that comes partly from experimenting with the materials themselves and partly from my attitude in general.

This particular body of work (friendly Monsters) grew out of both a playful place and a not so playful one. It also came from a deliberate attempt to loosen up, to stop being so rigid and to stop trying to make things technically “perfect”, whatever that means.

I have two little ones at home, so some of the inspiration came from reading children’s books and being surrounded by that imaginative, childlike world. At the same time, the less playful side emerged from thinking about the real monsters that exist in the world. With so many terrible things happening in the world, it’s hard not to carry some of that weight. I’ve always been drawn to juxtapositions, whether in the materials I use or the subjects I explore.

When I started writing backstories for the friendly monsters, the response was amazing. I love that people see themselves in these characters—their worries, flaws, interests and so on. They can relate to these little creatures. I write their stories with humour, because humour is such a great way to connect with people.
Your day job is all about helping people find their path, and then you go home and make tiny wool monsters. Do those two parts of your life ever overlap?
Hmmm…that’s a good question, I’m not really sure haha!

I guess having conversations all day with people makes you realize that no-one’s got it all together, and we shouldn’t have to put on a performance to make it seem like we do. It’s easier to connect with others when the masks are off.
What’s a piece you’ve made recently that felt especially satisfying to finish?
I made a couple of scarves that I was really happy with. I was trying out a new technique of weaving pre-felt, and then wet felting it to create a checkered pattern and for once, the finished piece actually matched the picture in my head! That never happens. When you’re wet felting, you only have a certain amount of control so it was very satisfying to have it come out the way I wanted.
When your creative energy dips, what reliably helps you reset?
The thing that always works for me is the last thing I want to do, and that is just to make SOMETHIING. When I’m stuck, It’s often because I want to shift, make something new, start a new body of work, etc., and I want to have a fully formed idea in my head before I begin. Of course, the idea never fully forms but I find that if I start getting my hands moving, the idea will start to work it’s way out as I go.

Bonus Question: What would your younger self be most surprised to know about the creative life you’ve built?

I’ve always found it challenging to write or speak about my work. For a long time, I thought I had to sound perfectly articulate, that the work itself had to be pristine, and that I needed a clear, intellectual explanation for every choice I made. Honestly, I often don’t understand the concept (if there is one) until I start making the piece, or even after it’s finished. I’ve learned to be okay with that. Sometimes the meaning is layered and reveals itself slowly, sometimes it’s a light bulb moment and sometimes I just want to make something cute.

There’s something refreshing about the way Sarah talks about her work.

No pressure to explain everything perfectly. No need to justify every decision.

Just a willingness to make, to follow the material, and to let meaning reveal itself over time.

It’s a quieter kind of confidence. The kind that doesn’t need to prove anything, just keep going.

To see more of Sarah's work: https://www.instagram.com/menkoosha.ca/

This series grows through word of mouth and the creative people who nudge me toward the next conversation. If someone comes to mind whose creativity inspires you, send them my way.

Until next week,Christine