I didn’t pitch this collection with a roar. I started with a quiet sketch—lines that felt like memory: layered, rhythmic, moving forward. I kept asking: What does celebration look like when it’s also daily life?
I grew up learning to make beauty out of limits. That shows up in how I design: graphic first, then object. For this Black History Month décor line, I wanted forms you’d keep out all year—pieces that felt grounded in culture without being cliché. Clean geometry. Honest materials. Patterns that nod, not shout.
Production is where humility meets ego. You fight for the right finish and then compromise so it can be made at scale. I was in spreadsheets and sandpaper, packaging and pantones—because a story isn’t a story if it falls apart on shelf.
The day I walked past the display and saw someone pick up a piece and smile, I felt that old reflex to shrink…and then I didn’t. The collection sold out in stores across the country, but the win for me was simpler: I made something I would bring home myself.