Some beginnings arrive long before you realise they're the start.
Colour holds meaning. It speaks to our senses, stirs emotion, and gives rhythm to everyday life by marking time and guiding movement. But what happens when this language becomes illegible to some? Inclusive design begins here: not with rules, but with questions.
At Kukka, design begins with colour. But it does not always end in mass
production. I believe in design as a conscious act, an interplay of
form, material and meaning. I never set out to start my own label. But I do
want to create autonomous work now and then, pieces that move along the
edge of art and design. Editions offer the perfect format for this:
small-scale, intentional, and produced on demand or in limited stock.
In 2006, during my third year of studying fashion styling in Amsterdam, I
found myself reluctantly sitting down to design surface patterns by
hand. Back then, there were no computer lessons in our curriculum,
everything was done manually. I didn't really enjoy the course at first.
The process felt painstaking: creating a repeating pattern meant
drawing a grid, designing the motifs, and ensuring the edges aligned
perfectly, all on sheets slightly smaller than A3. Precision was
essential, but I lacked the kind of fine motor skills that tasks like
measuring, cutting or pasting require. I often joke that I cannot cut a
straight line to save my life.
I used to genuinely enjoy publishing blog posts. Writing, reflecting, and sharing ideas gave me energy. But over time, my schedule became filled with other things. I started following external demands and timelines, and that slowly pulled me away from the reasons I started creating in the first place. I noticed I was mostly responding to what others needed instead of taking time to create from intention. When you're not careful, it creeps in. At some point, I realised I needed to pause.