DESIGNING FROM THE PLACE

You go to Sittilingi and work alongside the Porgai artisans directly rather than designing from a distance. How does being physically there, in the process with them, change what you end up designing versus sketching it beforehand and bringing it to them?

Initially, the intention was to create a very simple capsule collection with a few pieces. But once we started working in Sittilingi, the idea kept growing because we wanted to give space to the different motifs and stories we had seen there.

The biggest difference was during the embroidery process. I had come with certain ideas about how I wanted to contemporise the motifs and had planned specific thread colours and combinations.

But the artisans would suggest different colours or combinations based on what they felt would work better. When we followed their suggestions, we realised how naturally their choices worked with the garments.

It made me understand how deeply connected they are to fabric, thread, colour and the motifs they create. They didn’t change the essence of our idea, but they added their own creative voice to it.

For example, motifs like marigolds, chillies and millets have a very real connection to their lives because these are things they grow and see around them. So they aren’t simply reproducing a motif; they are interpreting something they live with every day.

MAKING SPACE FOR INSTINCT

Was there a moment working side by side with the artisans where their instincts changed a design you’d already settled on? What did that teach you about letting go of control as a designer?

Yes, definitely.

One of the clearest moments was during the embroidery sampling, when I had already planned specific thread colours and combinations. The artisans would suggest different threads or colour combinations based on what they felt would work better.

Initially, I was quite particular about the choices I had made, but when we tried their suggestions, I could see that they understood the relationship between the thread, colour, fabric and motif in a way that I couldn’t have understood just by designing from outside.

It taught me that letting go of control doesn’t mean losing your design direction. It means leaving enough space for someone else’s knowledge and instinct to become part of the design.

IN THE ROOM WITH THE CRAFT

What does a working day actually look like when you’re there? How much of it is you leading, and how much is you following where the artisans and the craft take you?

A working day in Sittilingi is really a balance between leading and observing.

I usually go in with a clear idea of what we are trying to develop, the silhouettes we are working on and the motifs we want to explore.

But once the embroidery and sampling begins, I try not to control every decision. A lot of the day is spent sitting with the artisans, looking at samples, discussing motifs, trying different threads and colours, and seeing how their ideas translate onto the garment.

So I would say I lead the overall direction, but I follow quite a lot once we enter the craft process.

LEARNING THE COMMUNITY

You’re young in this role, and you move between a lot of different artisan communities and organisations across India for Anjelms. How has working with Porgai specifically shaped the way you now approach a new community you haven’t worked with before?

Working with Porgai has made me realise that every community needs a different approach.

In some of my earlier projects, I would spend shorter periods with the artisans, develop the silhouettes, and then the embroidery or craft process would continue afterwards.

Porgai was different because I was involved much more closely throughout the sampling and development process.

I worked across the silhouettes, pattern making and grading, fabric and colour selection, embroidery motif development and production follow-up. I was there with almost every sample as it was being developed.

It has made me realise that before deciding what I want to design, I need to understand how the community works, how the artisans think about their craft and where my input can genuinely add value.

DESIGNING FOR SOMEONE FAR AWAY

Every collection you design ends up on the other side of the world, in stores and online in Australia. How much does that eventual audience sit in your mind while you’re actually in the room with the artisans, versus something you think about later?

I do think about the eventual audience in Australia, but not when I am sitting with the artisans trying to understand the craft.

At that stage, my focus is more on the community, the technique, the motifs and what feels authentic to the process.

The Australian audience comes more into my thinking when we start translating that craft into a garment, thinking about silhouettes, functionality, colour and wearability.

For me, the challenge is to create something that can travel to the other side of the world without losing where it came from.

The craft and the artisan’s voice are the starting point, and the audience helps me think about how that story can travel through the garment.

EVERY CRAFT HAS ITS OWN LANGUAGE

Is there a difference in how you design for a community like Porgai, where the craft is embroidery passed down through memory, compared to other artisan groups you work with who might weave, dye, or block-print? Does your process change per craft, or per place?

Yes, my process definitely changes depending on the craft because every craft has its own language.

With Porgai, the embroidery is closely connected to memory, observation and the artisans’ lived experience. So I feel there is a stronger need to sit with them, understand the motifs and allow their interpretation to remain visible.

With weaving, dyeing or block printing, my questions as a designer become different.

I have to understand how the fabric behaves, the limitations of the technique, the scale of the motifs, the dyeing process or how the print sits on the surface. These things then start influencing the silhouette and construction itself.

So I don’t have one fixed process that I take from one community to another.

The intention remains the same: to understand the craft before designing around it, but the way I work changes according to the craft, the people and the place.

UNLEARNING CONTROL

What’s something you’ve had to unlearn about design since taking on this role — an instinct from your training that didn’t hold up once you were actually working alongside artisans?

One thing I have had to unlearn is the idea that, as a designer, I need to have everything figured out before I begin working with the artisans.

My training taught me to research, develop a concept, make a sketch and then communicate that idea clearly.

But working closely with artisans has shown me that the sketch doesn’t always have to be the final answer.

Sometimes the most valuable design decision comes after the artisan starts working — through a different colour, a different way of placing a motif, or simply through their instinct about what will work.

I have learnt to leave space for those moments instead of trying to control every detail from the beginning.

WHAT GETS LOST BETWEEN HANDS AND PRODUCT PHOTOS

When a collection like Postcards from Sittilingi launches in Australia, what part of the process do you wish customers actually understood, that usually gets lost between the artisan’s hands and the final product photo?

I wish customers could understand how much of the final piece is shaped by the process of getting there.

When you see a garment online or in a store, you see the finished product, but you don’t see all the conversations, trials, changes and small decisions that happened before it reached that point.

With Postcards from Sittilingi, there were so many moments where an idea changed once it reached the artisans. We tried different threads, colours and ways of interpreting the motifs. The artisans brought their own understanding into those decisions.

I also wish people could see that the embroidery isn’t just a decorative element added to a garment. For the Porgai artisans, many of these motifs come from things they see and experience every day.

So when someone sees the final photograph, I hope they understand that they aren’t just seeing a finished garment.

They are seeing many people’s knowledge, time, hands and decisions coming together in one piece.