Creative Process

There has never been a culture without ornament.

My love for ornaments came not only from their purely aesthetic appeal, but also from a deep reverence for the cultural heritage humanity has built across time — and the realization of the unique role ornament has always played within it.

No matter how limited the resources, people have always found a way to decorate their clothing and environment. Ornament was never an unnecessary luxury or mere decoration — it was humanity's oldest way of mirroring the patterns we see in the universe, a shared language that still tells stories.

The ornaments I create draw their inspiration from a wide range of human artistic traditions — anything from Art Deco to Egyptian motifs, from Viking to Florentine wall paintings. I never just copy — I study their language, absorb it, and then find my own voice within it.

Every embroidery and print design I create begins the same way — pencil on paper. No digital tools. It is time consuming, yes. But there is something irreplaceable in that process — this is my art, and my way of keeping old ways alive in every Anuttara garment.

As soon as I started to work with ornaments, I began to notice that my state of consciousness was shifting in various ways while I drew — each tradition carried its own frequency and affected my mind. I had always believed that ornaments are codes — but it was only through my own creative process that I began to experience this viscerally.

My clothing has always been elaborate and rich with detail. Every time I try to simplify, I find it genuinely harder than making something ornate. And sometimes I genuinely wonder — maybe the inability to make something simple is itself a flaw. And then I find myself back in an ethnographic museum, or lost in a period film, and I remember — clothing was never simple.

Humanity drifted toward functionality and minimalism. As someone who studied architecture, I watched the same shift happen there — from elaborate temple carvings and Gothic cathedrals we arrived at clean white boxes. And I say this with respect — some white boxes are absolute masterpieces, just as some simple garments are works of art.

And yet. The things humans made before had a devotion to detail that I can't help but deeply value. It speaks to something innate — a primal human desire to decorate, to sacralise, to refuse to leave the world plain.