The Beauty of What Remains: How Remnants Shape My Work

Every maker has a starting point. Mine has always been the remnant — the small piece left behind, the scrap that refuses to disappear, the fragment that still has something to say.

Growing up the youngest of ten children, I learned early that creativity often begins with what’s already in your hands. My brothers made their own toys — spinning tops carved from wood, makeshift bows and arrows, even afro picks shaped from whatever they could find. My sisters sewed clothes for their dolls from leftover fabric, turning remnants into wardrobes full of personality. Nothing went to waste in our house; everything had potential. Those scraps weren’t just materials. They were imagination. They were resourcefulness. They were the first lessons in seeing possibility where others might see “not enough.”

As I grew into my own creative voice, I realized that remnants shape not just my materials, but my way of seeing. They ask me to slow down. To notice. To honor what’s already here. They remind me that design isn’t about abundance — it’s about intention. It’s about listening to the stories that already exist in the fibers, the textures, the patterns, and letting them guide the work.

In my studio, remnants are never an afterthought. They’re the spark. A single piece of fabric or a small piece of art can become the springboard for an entire design. A leftover print can shift the palette of a collection. A frayed edge can inspire a new form. I sort them, I look for “friends” and wait for the moment when something clicks — when the material tells me what it wants to become.

Working this way has taught me so much. Remnants teach patience. They teach reverence for the stories embedded in the things we carry. And they remind me, again and again, that nothing meaningful is ever truly left behind.

This is the first of many Remnant Stories I’ll share — reflections on the pieces that shape my work and the memories they hold. Some will be tied to specific collections, others to singular scraps that changed the direction of a design. All of them begin with the same belief: that what remains is often where the real story lives.

Thank you for reading, and for stepping into this part of my process. There’s much more to come.