The Mind(Set) Behind It
Designer | Maker | Researcher | Climate Activist | Vital Materialist | Anti-Capitalist | Feminist | Queer | Dog Mum | Lover of Silliness
About Me
I am a multi-disciplinary designer who values sustainability, curiosity, whimsy, and collective care (for humans and non-humans both).
I’ve always been a climate-conscious maker. Using recycling to make space-themed dioramas and fabric off-cuts into Barbie fashion as a kid. Throughout school and early uni, I studied art & film history, dramaturgy, and archaeology before discovering I was a designer at heart. Completing my BA in Visual Communications and MA in Design Cultures solidified my affinity with design thinking, and provided me the tools to develop my current design practice.
As a Speculative Designer, I communicate diverse futures through design objects. This can take many forms.
I create collections of objects that I have up-cycled and revamped to encourage play and connection - imagining a future where we value materials and shared experiences over conspicuous commodities. I work on commission with values-aligned organisations, using my skills to help them imagine their future path or to communicate their future vision to audiences. I exhibit design objects and art pieces, as an invitation for the public to imagine a hopeful ‘middle’ future - neither apocalyptic destruction, nor utopian unreality - but a realistic vision of possibility, projected from current day facts. I facilitate workshops and give talks on these topics, and am currently on the path toward further academic research.
Finally, I am a friend, community member, daughter, dog mum, college and global citizen. I was raised on Yugambeh country, but have lived on Wurundjeri and Bunurong Country for most of my adult life, with a brief stint living in Amsterdam, NL. My eternal gratitude to all these connections <3
My Mind(set)t
Vital Materialism & Speculative Design
I believe we are enmeshed with each other and our nonhumans. I believe a greater understanding of this intrinsic relationship, coupled with growing respect and care for those within our network, is vitally important for a just transition toward a climate safe future. Let me explain:
We don’t live within a vacuum. We live within a vastly intricate biosphere where life is dependant on other life. So much so that drawing distinctions between various ‘objects’ becomes more and more difficult, the harder you look.
Tim Ingold explains this perfectly in his 2010 paper ‘Bringing Things to Life: Creative Entanglements in a World of Materials’. When considering a Tree as an object, he asks:
“What is tree and what is not tree? Where does the tree end and the rest of the world begin? (…) Is the bark, for example, part of the tree? If I break off a piece (…) I find that it is inhabited by a great many tiny creatures that have burrowed beneath it and made their homes there. Are they part of the tree? And what of the algae that grow on the outer surfaces of the trunk or the lichens that hang from the branches? Moreover, if we have decided that bark-boring insects belong as much to the tree as does the bark itself, then there seems no particular reason to exclude its other inhabitants, including the bird that builds its nest there or the squirrel (…). If we consider, too, that the character of this particular tree lies just as much in the way it responds to the currents of wind, in the swaying of its branches and the rustling of its leaves, then we might wonder whether the tree can be anything other than a tree-in-the-air. These considerations lead me to conclude that the tree is not an object at all, but a certain gathering together of the threads of life…”
But hang on, you’re not a tree. So what is human and what is not human? Are the billions of bacteria which cover our skin and live inside of us, us? What about the clothes we wear to protect against our environment? Or the plant and animal products we eat to survive? Or the tools we use to complete daily tasks? Or the buildings and infrastructures that we inhabit? Are you anything other than a human-in-the-world? Could you be you without any of these “non-human” objects?
Vital Materialism, as prefaced by Jane Bennett, and personally analysed during my MA research, is a philosophy which holds that all “actors”, both human and nonhuman, are connected and reliant upon each other in a network. If our network is our world, then we humans, our objects, and infrastructures, plus the natural environments, flora and fauna, are all the actors within it. We are all intrinsically connected and reliant upon each other. Viewed through this lens, climate collapse can be seen as a crises of connection. This echos what First Nations knowledge tells us too; that land and life are vitally connected.
Historically, mass design & consumption has become a tool to obscure this connection. Think: my grandmother used to knit jumpers for her family, using wool spun from the sheep which were raised on their farm. Eating crops sew by the family’s hand. The connection between the jumper, and the land from which it came, was clear. Today: we buy a jumper from a multi-national company. If the thread it’s spun from is in fact wool (not a poly/plastic blend), the sheep which bore it grazes on a continent far away. Any hand which helped make it, are not related to me, or each other. It was knitted by a machine and shipped to the store we buy it from. The connection between the jumper and the land it came from, is completely obscured.
This is not to say that “things were better back then”, but that the global model of conspicuous consumption, as driven by commercial design methodologies and capitalist values over recent decades, has purposefully obscured these connections and encouraged us to think of materials and objects as disposable. When the fast fashion top you recently brought, wears out, it isn’t natural to think “I must save this fabric for re-use” or “I can fix this so I can keep wearing it” because there is no obvious connection, emotional or otherwise, between yourself and the materials the top is made from. Why expend effort saving it when you can buy another cheaply? When we see hard rubbish piled up by the road, it isn’t natural for us to see the material components of the objects as useful resources. Instead, we see garbage, with possibly one or two salvageable items. Why save these items when you could buy new ones?
This is the mindset I wish to challenge through my practise. On a world which contains only finite materials, all materials are valuable resources. Plus, our human survival is reliant upon the survival of our nonhuman objects and environments. If all materials are valuable, then we need to treat them with greater care and respect, and acknowledge our dual fates. I communicate this mindset of connection and care for nonhumans through my creation of up-cycled capsule collections, commission Speculative design work, the facilitation of workshops and learning journeys, and my continued academic research.
Let's Work Together
Contact me for all commissions, inquiries and curiosities.
I look forward to chatting with you!