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.
To mark Kukka’s 15th anniversary, I’m sharing a series of blog posts that reflect on the unexpected turns, milestones, and personal discoveries that shaped my design practice. Looking back is not so much about nostalgia, but about tracing the lines that still surface in my work today.
Finding my way through applied projects
What I did have, even then, was a love for drawing. In high school I adored art class but avoided crafts. That contrast never really left. I struggled with pattern assignments that didn’t have a clear purpose. Projects based on open themes like “nature” felt abstract. I preferred the applied projects later in the year, like designing prints for a children's collection or a women’s fashion label, where I could develop my own concept or narrative.
Early influences and aesthetics
In my first two years, my aesthetic was a playful mix of punk, boho, and rich historical references. It was a theatrical era with Galliano at Dior, Alexander McQueen, and Steven Meisel’s enchanting shoots for Vogue Italia. I explored a wide range of styles, drawing inspiration from Rococo, Art Nouveau, and Art Deco. It was Art Deco that resonated most deeply: the graphic forms, the symmetry, the geometric structure. I was also drawn to Alphonse Mucha’s approach to colour and the visual language of Charles Rennie Mackintosh.
Moving from analogue to digital
Despite the challenge of working by hand, I was determined to find a way that suited me better. While others continued with paper and gouache, I began teaching myself how to work digitally. I already had some software experience from a previous study in communication, where I’d used Photoshop and QuarkXPress (similar to Adobe InDesign). Illustrator, however, I learned on my own during my fashion studies. From block 4 onward, I was the only one in my class designing patterns on a computer.
The digital process just made sense to me. It allowed for faster sketching, more experimentation, and far fewer frustrating do-overs. Mistakes didn’t mean starting from scratch. You could still use hand-drawn elements like ink textures or painted marks, but digitise and build them into repeat patterns with much more control. And since the industry works with digital files anyway, it made the transition logical.
The first designs that still resonate
One of our first assignments involved cutting and mirroring geometric shapes in black and white. Since they are so old, you can see the rubber cement stains and pieces that are missing if you look close.
Once I got the hang of it, I pushed it further: using Indian ink, glue
and masking fluid to create textures and backgrounds that formed the
base for my paper cut-outs.
Looking back, these earliest designs remain some of my strongest. Nearly 20 years later, they still feel relevant; minimal, graphic, and unfussy. In contrast, many of the patterns I made afterward already feel outdated in form or colour, or are now far from me in style and taste.
A lasting design approach
That first sense of “less is more” still runs through my work. I continue to be drawn to graphic and geometric forms and still use collage, hand-drawn details, or painted textures as building blocks. Sometimes scanned, sometimes created on my iPad in ProCreate. The approach has evolved, but the instinct is still the same.
These hand-made patterns from almost two decades ago laid the foundation for Kukka. Even now, these designs still display something essential: a love for rhythm, and a graphic sensibility that continues to form my work. Maybe you, too, have early creations that still feel close, not because they were perfect, but because they already held a piece of who you are.
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