Block printing is a way of stamping a design onto fabric by hand. An artisan carves a pattern into a block — usually wood — then dips it into dye and presses it onto cloth, repeating the stamp again and again across the length of the fabric. The image on the cloth comes out as a mirror of what's carved on the block.

Because the whole thing is done by hand rather than by machine, no two pieces ever come out exactly alike. A print might land a hair off-center, or a color might pool a touch deeper in one corner. We don't see those as flaws. They're the fingerprints of a person, and they're a big part of why a handmade bag feels different from something stamped out by the thousands.

India has been block printing fabric for a very long time, and the city of Jaipur — in the northwestern state of Rajasthan — grew into one of its most celebrated homes. Whole communities there built their lives around the craft: carvers who shaped the blocks, printers who worked the cloth, and dyers who kept the color vats alive. Two of the region's most famous traditions, Sanganeri and Bagru, are still practiced in and around Jaipur today, known respectively for their delicate floral motifs and their earthy, mud-resist patterns.

For generations, this knowledge has passed from parent to child inside workshops, with techniques and recipes kept as closely held family knowledge. That continuity is exactly what we wanted to be part of when we built Patel & Co. The artisans we work with in Jaipur aren't a faceless factory — they're the living thread that connects an ancient practice to the bag in your hands.

It would be faster and cheaper to print our designs on a machine. We choose not to, and here's why it matters to us:

• Every piece is one of a kind. One block can print countless bags, but because each is stamped by hand, no two are identical. The bag you carry is genuinely yours.
• It's a gentler process. Hand block printing, especially with natural dyes, uses far less energy and water-pollution-heavy machinery than industrial printing. It's a craft that has always lived close to the earth.
• It keeps a tradition alive. When you buy something handmade, you're helping a printer keep their table, a carver keep their chisels, and a way of life continue into the next generation. For our family, this is the part that means the most.

Every print travels through the same patient sequence. Here's how a length of plain cotton becomes a finished Patel & Co. fabric.

• Carving the Block: It all starts with the block. A master carver takes a piece of seasoned wood and, using a chisel and a small wooden mallet, cuts a design into its surface by hand. Intricate patterns can take days to carve, and a single design often needs several blocks — one for the outline, and separate ones for each color that fills it in. These blocks are the workshop's most prized tools, and a good one can last for years.
• Preparing the Fabric: Before any printing happens, the raw cotton has to be readied. It's washed to strip away the natural starches and oils left over from weaving, so the dye will hold evenly and deeply. Sometimes the cloth is dyed a base color first; other times it's left in its natural cream. Only once it's clean and dry is it stretched flat across a long, padded printing table.
• Printing by Hand: This is where the magic becomes visible. The printer dips the block into a tray of dye, lines it up against the fabric, and presses down with a firm, practiced tap — using the heel of the hand to drive the color in. Then they lift, shift the block one repeat over, and do it again. And again. Across the entire length of cloth. The hardest part is registration: lining each stamp up so the pattern flows seamlessly. A skilled printer carries that rhythm in their body after years at the table.
• Drying in the Sun: Sunlight does quiet, essential work here. After printing, the fabric is laid out in open fields and on rooftops to dry naturally. The craft moves to the rhythm of the weather, which is one reason so much of this work slows almost to a halt during the heavy monsoon months, when there's simply not enough dry sun to go around.
• Dyeing: Depending on the design, the printed cloth may be dipped into dye baths to bring out deeper colors or backgrounds. Many of the most beautiful traditional fabrics use natural dyes drawn from plants, flowers, minerals, and spices — indigo for blues, madder for reds, pomegranate and turmeric for warm yellows. Where a resist paste has been printed onto the cloth first, those areas stay pale while the rest of the fabric takes the color.
• Washing, Finishing, and Drying Again: Finally, the fabric is washed by hand to clear away excess dye and any resist paste, then dried once more in the sun. Often this whole cycle — print, dry, dye, wash — repeats several times to build up the layered colors and crisp detail of the finished design. Only then is the cloth ready to be cut and sewn.
  

Every print in our collection carries this journey inside it. The reversible Palat Mini, the Saathi Clutch, the breezy Sippi shell print — each one started as a carved block and a printer's steady hand in Jaipur before it ever reached a market table in Massachusetts.

For us, this has never been only about selling bags. Patel & Co. grew out of dhandho — the entrepreneurial spirit woven through our Gujarati family for generations — and out of a belief that the things we carry every day can be both useful and full of meaning. When you choose a hand block-printed piece, you're choosing a slower, more human way of making, and you're helping keep a centuries-old craft alive.

We'd love for you to carry a piece of it with you. Explore the collection at patelandco.shop, or come say hello at one of our summer markets.

Made by hand. Designed with love. Rooted in heritage.

The simplest version of the craft uses just one block. A carver cuts a single design into a piece of wood. The printer dips that block into one color of dye, lines it up against the fabric, and presses down with a firm tap of the hand. Then they lift, move one repeat across, and stamp again — over and over, all the way down the length of the cloth.

The result is a clean, single-color pattern: one block, one dye, one impression repeated into a rhythm across the fabric. It's the purest form of block printing, and a beautifully made single-block print can be just as striking as a complicated one. Think of a tossed floral in deep indigo on natural cream — no second color needed. This single block is the foundation. Everything more elaborate is just this same motion, layered.

A multicolor design isn't carved into one block. Instead, the design is broken apart — each color gets its own separate block. Traditionally, the printing follows an order:

• The outline block (the rekh): This is the block that carries the linework — the skeleton of the design. It's printed first, usually in a dark color, and it maps out exactly where everything else needs to land.
• The fill blocks (the datta): Once the outline is down, separate blocks are used to drop color inside those lines — one block per color. If a flower has a red bloom and a green leaf, that's typically two more blocks, printed one after another.

Each new block adds a layer of color on top of the last, slowly bringing the full picture to life. A simple two-color print might use two blocks; an intricate one can take four, five, or more, each waiting its turn.

The skill that separates a master printer from a beginner is registration — getting every layer to land in exactly the right place. There are no machines lining things up. The printer has only their eye and their hands. Most carved blocks include tiny guide marks at the corners so each new stamp can be matched precisely to the one before it. If the red fill drifts even slightly off the outline, the whole flower looks wrong. Multiply that across hundreds of repeats and several color layers, and you start to understand why this takes years to learn — and why a hand block print, with all its tiny human variations, feels alive in a way a machine print never does.

When you look closely at a Patel & Co. print, you can often read its history: the outline that was laid first, the colors that followed, the places where a printer's hand pressed a touch heavier. Every layer represents another block, another pass across the fabric, another moment of someone's careful attention in a Jaipur workshop.

So the next time you reach for one of our bags, remember it wasn't printed all at once. It was built — one block, then another, then another — into the piece you carry today.

Made by hand. Built in layers. Rooted in heritage.