The punch needle community is filled with creative, talented makers who constantly amaze us as they create beautiful works of art and push the medium in new directions. In this series, we go "behind the skeins" to learn about various artists and feature their work to our community. Read on to be inspired!
Today I'm excited to introduce Danish artist Anne Lyck to our "Featured Artist" series. Anne creates distinctive punch needle works that blend bold geometric forms with human faces, and her pieces caught my eye for their vibrant color palette and unique approach that feels both energizing and contemplative. She calls her style "Geometric Yarn"—and once you see her work, it's immediately clear why! Anne's artistic journey is as inspiring as her work itself. After years of creativity woven into everyday life with her daughters, she returned to her own artistic practice, creating in short bursts between caregiving responsibilities. She translates sketches into textured fiber works that honor everyday life and the quiet heroes around us. Her thoughtful answers in this interview reveal the depth and intention behind each piece, offering insight into how art can thrive even in the midst of life's unpredictability.
Hello Anne! Tell us a little bit about your creative background. What led you to the work you do today?
I’ve been drawing and painting since I was a child, and I’ve always been drawn to geometric forms. As a young girl, I admired artists like Wassily Kandinsky, Joan Miró, and later the Bauhaus movement – their use of shapes and colors left a lasting imprint on me.
For many years, creativity was woven into everyday life through my daughters – building cardboard castles, making perler beads, and crafting together. But in 2023, I realized that when my girls were creating, I didn’t always need to copy what they made. I could follow my own path. That was the start of my artistic journey after many years on pause.
There is also a deeply personal reason I found my way back to art. I’m home full-time with my daughter, who has three diagnoses including a rare disease. Our daily life is very different from most families – unpredictable schedules, very little time for myself – and art became my sanctuary. Sitting with my punch needle surrounded by Barbie dolls and homemade blindbags, I found a way to create something that was just mine, while still being close to my girls.
When my mother passed away, she left me a farewell letter where she reminded me how important it was to bring out my creativity again and to believe in my own style. Her words gave me the courage to take my art seriously, and today my work has become a language of its own – a mix of personal stories, geometry, and emotion stitched into every piece.
How did you get started with Punch Needle? What is it about this technique, or working with fiber, that appealed to you?
I turned to punch needle when I needed a medium that could fit into the rhythm of my everyday life. Being a full-time caregiver and mother means I’m constantly available – so I create in short bursts, sometimes four minutes here, twelve minutes there. Punch needle felt perfectly suited to that reality. It became my sanctuary, a place where I could pause and breathe in the middle of daily chaos.
The technique itself is very meditative. Stitch by stitch, the repetition brings calm, and yet it’s also flexible – I can pick it up and put it down whenever I need to. That balance of focus and freedom is what keeps me coming back.
I’ve always worked in a geometric language, so when I began translating my painted forms into yarn, the name Geometric Yarn felt like a natural extension. It connects my acrylic paintings with my fiber works – two different materials, but the same artistic voice.
We'd love to hear about your creative process. How do you begin a piece? What inspires you?
I always begin with sketches. I love sitting with my big sketchbooks, a ruler and a compass, experimenting with lines and forms. Many of my sketches are made during the night, when my daughter is awake and needs me by her side. Those long hours have become a space where my creativity often explodes.
The eyes are always my starting point – I’m fascinated by faces and the many expressions they hold. From there I sketch directly onto the canvas or fabric and then begin to play with colors. I choose my palette intuitively, led by feelings rather than a fixed plan.
My inspiration comes from many places: from my own journey through life, full of bumps and turns; from my daughters, who are so alike yet so different. One can create art from a piece of paper and a wine cork, while the other dives into math and asks a million questions about life and everything around it. They both inspire me deeply, and even one of my works, Reversed Face, was born from their contrasts.
But I’m also inspired by everyday people – the ones who take on the hard jobs and often go unnoticed: the person who cleans up after us at the workplace, the waiter who serves a cold Pepsi at a café, the parent who ties a child’s shoes 56 times a day. These are the faces, the quiet heroes, that fuel my art.
Can you walk us through your toolkit? Are there specific tools, fibers, or materials that have become essential to your practice?
I work mainly on Floba fabric from Zweigart in Germany – it’s strong, durable, and perfect for the way I build my geometric designs. When it comes to needles, I use everything from Oxford punch needles to the inexpensive ones you can find in craft shops. My favorites are the larger sizes, around 5–8 mm, because they give a texture and depth that I really love.
Yarn is where I allow myself the most freedom. I often use second-hand and leftover yarn – I’m always on the hunt in thrift shops and Red Cross stores – but I also mix in new yarn when I need specific colors. There’s something inspiring about working with what’s available and letting that shape the piece.
In my workshop box, you’ll also find rulers, compasses, and the small details that support my process, like D-rings for mounting. And every piece is finished with my signature leather tag, which has become an important part of my identity as an artist.
How do you approach color selection in your work? Do you plan palettes in advance or work more intuitively?
Color is always an intuitive process for me. I rarely sit down with a fixed palette – instead, I choose colors based on feelings, moods, and the moment I’m in. Sometimes the entire vision is clear from the beginning, but even then I might change a section or two along the way.
I simply love colors – all colors. They feel alive to me, and I enjoy the freedom of letting them interact and surprise me. The process is less about control and more about trusting my instincts and allowing the work to grow organically.
Do you have any rituals or habits that help you get into a creative flow state when working?
Yes, I often listen to music while I work – mostly soft, cozy songs that create a warm atmosphere. Some of my favorites are Fenja, Dean Lewis, Lukas Graham, Niall Horan, and Noah Kahan, but my playlist is always growing.
Sometimes I also use the time to practice French by listening to lessons or podcasts, which has become a surprising new part of my creative routine. And often, the most natural soundtrack of all is simply the sound of my daughters playing around me – their voices and laughter weaving into the rhythm of my stitches.
How do you balance planning versus spontaneity in your practice?
My creative practice doesn’t follow a strict routine – it’s shaped by the rhythm of my family life. I don’t have free evenings (I jokingly say I have a black belt in long bedtimes!), and my mornings are filled with my daughter’s reduced school schedule, practical tasks, and sometimes a workout. So my art happens in small pockets of time, mostly in the afternoons, always with my two girls around me.
I love that. One might be playing with Barbie dolls just 13 cm from where I sit, while the other is building her next big cardboard show at the table. There’s a kind of everyday magic in that atmosphere. Sometimes I light a candle, put on soft acoustic music, and just punch for a few minutes. Other days, if life allows, I might get an hour or two.
It’s flexible, imperfect, and deeply connected to my life circumstances. But that’s what makes it mine.
What is your favorite thing about the work that you do?
What I love most is that it gives me a space of my own. In the middle of family life and daily chaos, my art is where I find calm and presence – stitch by stitch, loop by loop. It’s deeply meditative and feels like breathing space.
I also love the moment when a piece comes together and shows me something I didn’t fully see when I began – a new expression, a hidden story, an emotion captured in color and form.
And finally, my favorite thing is when people connect with the work. When someone stands in front of a piece and sees themselves, their own emotions or everyday struggles mirrored back – that is the most meaningful reward.
What is the most difficult thing about the work that you do?
The hardest part for me is simply time. I have more than 800 sketches waiting to become artworks, and I often wish I could create more. My days are full, and my art is made in short bursts – which makes every finished piece feel like a victory, but also means so many ideas are still on paper.
Honestly, the art itself doesn’t feel difficult. What’s harder is the world around it. The art world can sometimes feel elitist or snobbish – focused on degrees, theory, or endless networking at openings. My belief is simple: an artist is someone who creates. It’s life experience, not a diploma, that shapes us.
Because my time is limited, I can’t always be as present in those social spaces as others, and that can hold me back. Still, I’m proud to sell every piece I make, and I know I’m ready for the next step – with a gallery that embraces not just my work, but also the life and the family that are part of it.
Can you share about a piece that completely changed direction halfway through? What did you learn from that experience?
HUMANITY (100 x 100 cm), also changed course halfway. It began as two faces layered on top of each other, but while creating it I found myself reflecting deeply on the contrast between my safe everyday life and the insecurity faced by so many others in the world. Suddenly it wasn’t just about form anymore – it became a statement about compassion, connection, and our responsibility not to close our eyes.
What I learned from both works is that art has its own voice. I can begin with an idea, but sometimes life, emotions, or the world outside of me will reshape it entirely. Letting go of control and trusting that shift has become one of the most important lessons in my practice.
What misconceptions do people often have about punch needle as an art form?
One of the biggest misconceptions is that punch needle is the same as tufting, or that it’s machine-made. People sometimes assume my works are produced quickly with a gun, but in reality they are created slowly, stitch by stitch, completely by hand. There is nothing fast or industrial about the process – it’s hours of patience, repetition, and presence.
Another misconception is that punch needle belongs only in the world of craft or hobby. To me, fiber is a powerful artistic medium, just like paint on canvas. Yarn can carry stories, emotions, and ideas just as strongly. My work is not about following a pattern – it’s about translating my own geometric visual language into fiber.
I call it Geometric Yarn because I see it as contemporary art, not just technique. The misconception fades when people stand in front of the pieces and feel their texture and presence – that’s when they understand it’s not a hobby, it’s an art form.
Are there other artists (punch needle, fiber or otherwise) who inspire you right now?
I’ll be honest: at this point in my life I don’t have much time to dive deeply into what other artists are doing or to nurture that sense of community as much as I’d like. My days are full, and most of my creative energy goes into my own work and my family.
That said, I do follow a few fiber artists, and right now Punch by Drake is one of the accounts I really enjoy seeing pop up in my feed. And of course, I also find inspiration here — in this very community — seeing how others push the boundaries of punch needle and fiber art.
Mostly, though, my inspiration comes from everyday life, my daughters, and the quiet heroes around me rather than from studying other artists in depth.
How has your work evolved over time?
I’ve always been drawn to geometric forms, even as a child, but for many years my creativity lived in smaller, everyday projects with my daughters. In 2023 something shifted — I gave myself permission to fully embrace art again, and my practice began to grow quickly.
At first, I worked mostly in acrylics, but over time my work evolved into fiber through punch needle. I call it Geometric Yarn because it feels like the same visual language I’ve always spoken, just translated into a new medium. The yarn adds texture, warmth, and a tactile depth that paint alone couldn’t give me.
My work has also become more personal. Pieces like Hope and Humanity carry not just shapes and colors but my lived experiences: grief, family life, motherhood, resilience, and the quiet belief that beauty and humanity still matter. Over time I’ve learned to trust my own style more — to not hide behind trends or expectations, but to let my story shape the art.
What's the most surprising way your punch needle practice has affected other areas of your life?
Community is something I value deeply, even though my time for it is limited. As a full-time mother and caregiver, I can’t always attend openings, network, or be present in the art scene the way I wish I could. But whenever I do connect with other artists — whether it’s at an exhibition or online in spaces like Punch Needle World — it feels incredibly meaningful.
I believe that community is about more than professional networking. For me, it’s about meeting people who share the same love of creating, people who are open to dialogue about art, life, and even the difficult subjects. That exchange reminds me that art doesn’t exist in isolation — it grows stronger when it’s shared.
At the same time, a lot of my “community” is also right at home. My daughters are part of my creative life every single day, and in many ways they are my closest collaborators, filling our living room with their own projects while I work on mine.
How do you define success in your artistic practice?
For me, success isn’t only about recognition or sales — it’s about being true to my own style and voice. Each time I manage to transform a sketch into a finished work, despite the challenges of everyday life, it already feels like success.
Success is also when someone connects with my work — when a viewer sees themselves in a piece, or feels an emotion that resonates with their own story. Those moments remind me why I create.
Of course, I dream of showing my art in more galleries and reaching a wider audience. But real success, for me, is to keep creating in the middle of life’s chaos, to stay authentic, and to know that my daughters grow up seeing that art matters.
What do you hope others see, gain, or take away from your work?
I hope people see more than just colors and shapes — I hope they feel a reflection of humanity. My work often begins with faces and expressions, and I want viewers to recognize something of themselves or of everyday life in them.
I want people to pause and remember the quiet heroes in our daily world: the ones tying shoelaces 56 times a day, serving coffee, cleaning up after others, or simply carrying invisible struggles. My pieces are a way of honoring those lives and emotions.
At the same time, I hope my art offers a sense of balance and hope. Life is rarely straight or easy — it’s full of bumps and detours — but there is beauty in that imperfection. If people leave with a feeling of connection, or a reminder that we all share the same fragile humanity, then I feel I’ve done my job as an artist.
How do you see punch needle art fitting into broader contemporary art conversations?
At the moment I’m working on a piece about motherhood — exploring the emotions, strength, and vulnerability that come with it. It’s a very personal theme, and one that feels important to translate into fiber.
I’ve also just started my first male portrait in punch needle. Until now, most of my works have centered around female faces and expressions, so this feels like a new step in expanding my visual language.
Alongside these, I continue to build my Geometric Yarn series, moving between punch needle and acrylic painting, and preparing for upcoming exhibitions.
What do you think about the resurgence of traditional fiber arts in contemporary culture?
I think it’s both exciting and necessary. Fiber arts have been around for centuries, often tied to tradition, craft, or domestic work. To see them now being recognized as part of contemporary art feels like a long overdue correction — and it opens the door for more voices, more diversity, and more ways of telling stories.
For me, fiber carries something unique: it’s tactile, intimate, and deeply human. In a world that is increasingly digital, there’s something grounding about standing in front of a handmade piece, where every stitch holds time and presence.
I also love that the resurgence is breaking down boundaries — between craft and fine art, between what is “serious” and what is “domestic.” It allows artists like me to merge personal history, geometry, and everyday life into fiber works that can speak to people on many levels.
If someone is just starting out with punch needle, what advice would you give that you wish you'd received?
I would say: don’t stress about having the perfect tools or materials in the beginning. Start simple, and let yourself enjoy the process. Even the cheapest needle and a piece of basic fabric can teach you something important.
Don’t be afraid of mistakes — they are part of the journey, and sometimes they lead you to something more interesting than what you planned. Trust your intuition, play with colors, and find your own voice instead of following patterns too closely.
And most of all: be patient. Punch needle is slow, meditative, and full of repetition. That’s the beauty of it. Each stitch matters, and over time it adds up to something bigger than you imagined.
Where do you see your work going in the future?
I see my work continuing to grow both in scale and in depth. I want to keep developing Geometric Yarn as a language of its own — creating larger, more ambitious works that can stand in dialogue with painting and sculpture in contemporary art spaces.
I hope to work more closely with galleries that believe in fiber as fine art, and to bring my pieces into exhibitions where people can experience them face to face. At the same time, I want to keep my practice rooted in honesty and everyday life — because that’s where the stories come from.
Ultimately, I see my work as moving towards a balance: reaching wider audiences and bigger stages, while staying true to the intimacy and humanity that started it all.
Where can the Punch Needle World community find you to follow and support your work?
You can find me on Instagram at @annelyckart, where I share both finished works and behind-the-scenes glimpses of my process. My website www.lyckart.dk is also being updated with new works and series.
I would love to connect with the Punch Needle World community there — it means so much to share this journey with others who are passionate about fiber art.
What are 3 other fun facts about yourself that you would like to share with the PNW Community?
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I’m adopted — half German, half Argentine — but grew up in Denmark. Maybe that mix is why I’ve always been drawn to blending cultures and stories in my art.
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Outside of art, I love CrossFit (I can deadlift 120 kg at age 47!) and I’m a total fan of adventure stories — from The Hunger Games to Harry Potter.
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I’m happiest by the sea. I dream of one day living either in Skagen, at the very tip of Denmark, or in Provence, where my parents once spent their retirement years.
- And here’s a funny one: I’m a completely self-taught punch needler. I started when my daughter and I were both sick with a virus that affected our balance nerves. I got tired of watching movies, grabbed some yarn, and just jumped into it — without even seeing a tutorial first.
To learn more and follow along with Anne's work, you can find her on Instagram on at @annelyckart, or at her website www.lyckart.dk