The Story
It started with a bad frame.
One vintage crewel embroidery piece. One terrible frame. Three attempts to get it right. That frustration became Crewel Intentions.
She found it at an estate sale — a crewel embroidery piece with the kind of detail you don't see anymore. Bold florals, rich texture, decades of someone's careful handiwork. But the frame was wrong. Chipped corners, faded finish, the kind of forgettable brown that museums put on things they don't want you to notice.
So she took it apart. Stripped the old frame, cleaned the fabric, restretched it on new bars. Then she painted a frame to match — something bold enough to let the embroidery be the star.
It took three tries. Three frames before the colors felt right, before the whole thing clicked. But when it finally came together, she knew: this is what these pieces deserve.
Not a dusty corner in an antique mall. Not a garage sale bin. A frame that makes you stop and stare.
That obsession with getting the frame right — that's Crewel Intentions. She finds vintage crewel and embroidery at estate sales and thrift stores, strips them from tired old frames, cleans and restretches them, then pairs each one with a bold, custom-painted frame that transforms forgotten handwork into statement art.
Circa 1978 — already surrounded by vintage charm.
From the Archives
The eye was always there.
Before Crewel Intentions had a name — before Instagram, before the first frame was painted — there was a teenager in a peacock chair with an eye for things other people overlooked.
That instinct for color, texture, and character? It never went away. It just found its medium: vintage embroidery and the bold frames that bring it back to life.
The Name
Yes, it's a pun.
If you're thinking of the movie — good. That's the point. Crewel Intentions isn't your grandmother's craft booth. It's vintage needlework with attitude: bold color, sharp framing, and zero beige.
Customers notice the name before they notice the art. Then they see the art, and they stay. That's exactly how it should work.
The Philosophy
Color is the product.
No glass. Ever.
No glass, no matte, no mats. Gloss finish only. The texture of the embroidery is meant to be seen up close and felt — not hidden behind a pane.
Bold, not safe.
Every frame is custom-painted by hand. Color-matched to the piece, not to your couch. Hot magenta, deep olive, burnt orange — if it makes the embroidery pop, it's in.
Art, not decoration.
These aren't filler pieces for a shelf. Each one is a rescued original — decades of someone's handwork, given a frame worthy of a gallery wall.
See what's available.
Every piece is one-of-a-kind. Once it's claimed, it's gone for good.