Tinker, Tailor,
Toothpaste Slides

The first thing I ever made was a bubble wrap puffer vest. I had never made anything and I hot-glued the whole thing. And then I made a shoe out of the IKEA bag. There was an entire storm of IKEA projects shortly after that, which I thought was funny. But the project that really catapulted me into consistently making stuff was this yellow L.L. Bean fleece that I took and turned into a slipper shoe. That was really when I was like, “I want to figure this out.”

I knew that the industry was super wasteful, and then I started making these projects, but I didn't fully make the connection. Every night I would go home and moonlight as this other designer. I was getting a satisfaction that I wasn't getting in my day job. I think a lot of creatives experience that—once you're in the cog of the corporate machine, you don't really focus so much on the reason you're creative, and you get home and you're exhausted. When I started doing those personal projects, it brought me back to life. I started thrifting more, because I didn't want to take something brand new, or go to a fabric store and get like a yard of fabric. I wanted to take something that had a hole or stain and then work around that. That became more of the challenge, to take an existing thing that already had a purpose and rearrange it in some way so that it keeps its integrity.

A lot of people have started to thrift and have found things that they otherwise wouldn't. From a design perspective, and specifically a graphic design perspective, there were a lot of things that were made back then that are not made the same way anymore. They were very generous with embroideries, and logo treatments and prints and it’s more expensive nowadays. Fast fashion is just not made as well. So, there’s quality. I do think that there are a lot of people that are considering the climate aspect when they are shopping now. Because of the rise of fast fashion, much more clothes have been made over the past 20 to 30 years. We overproduce, and all that stuff is going to have to circle back or end up in a landfill.

My studio is an extension of my brain. My brain has just exploded into a room and it's like Flubber—concoctions and inventions and weird things. I actually have a rock-climbing wall in my studio, which makes it even more ridiculous. I've done a couple of projects that will have, like, a toothbrush or chopsticks or a pencil attached, and I’ve found that using these cord holders that go on the back of TVs are perfect for that. If I have a project now and I'm like, “I wonder how I can do that”—I usually have just the right thing to be able to make it.

When anyone comes to my studio, they immediately start looking around and cutting things or playing with things. I'll have like a shoe upper and a bunch of soles and they start messing around. And they're talking to me and not even realizing what they're doing, and I love that. It makes me so happy to create a place for people to come and play and tinker.

People always ask me if I ever run out of ideas, and it's very much the opposite.

An Exacto knife, some type of adhesive, like hot glue. Scissors. Safety pins. This other specific type of pin. Maybe a needle and thread if I'm feeling saucy. That's the nice thing about not working in a traditional sense, like with patterns. I don't need a lot of stuff to be able to create. I usually use myself as the mannequin and pin things on my body or my foot and see what kind of shapes I can build. I have my tool wall of all the things that I probably could ever need and want, but I always resort back to my basics.

I used baguettes once to make a vest. Anytime I use food for a project I don't glue it, I don't tape it, I always try to find a way to secure it without ruining the food so I can eat it after. I made this pulley system that went inside of the bread, like rope. And the vest was so heavy, like putting a 50 pound weight on. I got the photo and then it fell apart and then I had sandwiches that weekend.

I like to have that range. I could only make wearable stuff, or I could only make crazy inventions that wouldn't be practical, but I like to sit somewhere in the middle. I'm not a brand and I dont sell things, it's all art and concepts. Now I’m sharing it with a large number of people, but it was always just for me to exercise my brain.

People will come to me and say “Your stuff isn’t accessible, why can’t I buy it?” But I would argue it's quite accessible, because it's just meant to be an idea. I haven't worked with a brand that is 100% sustainable, that has nothing leftover. They always come to me almost like, “We have a problem, we need help, can you help us use these run off factory scraps?” I’m problem-solving for them—creating a couple pieces for a collection and showing them what’s possible. So both functional and nonfunctional projects serve a purpose.

That’s my favorite question. The childish sense of wonder is real. And if I wasn’t doing this, I think it would have gone away. When you’re in your day-to-day life, working a corporate job, you lose that. You lose a sense of imagination and wanting to play. With these projects, I have rediscovered that feeling, and I never want to lose it. Even if it isn’t always design or art expression, you have to work to keep this a part of your life. Anything you used to do as a kid, which might feel like time you're taking away from your laundry or your taxes, it will make you think differently.

I used to get frustrated, but now I usually work through it. We don’t allow ourselves to get bored, and that’s a really crazy thing. Because we have our phones and our computers and Netflix and all these things, our first reaction when we’re bored or when we have time to spare is to go on our phones. It feels unproductive to just sit, but you end up using your brain and imagination. I think it helps a lot to unplug. Get off the phone, just sit there. Think. Close your eyes. Mess around with something that isn’t the thing you are trying to solve.

I’m working on a nonprofit focused more on connecting brands—who have so much excess—and designers and students and universities and people looking for these materials who can't always afford them. This is an ongoing thing—I’ve had so many brands trying to send me packages of scraps and samples, and students writing to me asking for advice on how to get materials for cheap. There’s a very natural connection that needs to be made, and it’s important to me to make those connections. The mindset that people have when they come to my studio is something I want to create—a space for kids and adults to go and play.