On a personal note

This journey began as an effort to find meaningful work by creating something for a worthy cause. After earning my degree in Fine Arts and aspiring to be a painter or contemporary artist, I decided to leave my pursuit of an MFA behind and follow after a simpler, more fulfilling life centered around craftsmanship. I found inspiration in the principles of the Arts and Crafts movement, which emphasized natural design and the value of skilled craftsmanship during the early days of industrialization. This shift was deeply tied to the kind of life I envisioned—one that was not sedentary or reliant on automated machines but rooted in nature, quality materials, thoughtful design, and refined skills.

I had a brief internship with an upholsterer and also explored the idea of becoming a wood cabinet maker. After visiting a few woodworking shops, I was told that “girls don’t do well in this industry” and that it was a dying trade. I moved on. Still, I found myself drawn to furniture projects while continuing to work in art education, sales, design and childcare. I grew increasingly frustrated with how the modern world had decided goods should be made and sold. I realized this frustration was not only about my own sense of well-being but also a reflection of a deeper societal imbalance. We have largely embraced industrialized methods that prioritize efficiency, often at the expense of livelihoods and a more equitable distribution of wealth. 

At the heart of this was a vision for a different economic model—one where small producers collaborate within a cooperative network, growth occurs through multiplication, and a commitment to quality. These are not new ideas but require renewed attention and expansion to counterbalance the surge of greed and power driving modern industrialization. Wendell Berry’s The Art of the Commonplace deeply influenced my ability to articulate and practice the truths that were emerging within me and remains a strong ethos to paving the way forward.

I eventually found  a trade when I learned about natural dyes. I began planning a move to India for a time to learn the craft from its origins. Along the way, I was fortunate to meet Graham Keegan in Los Angeles who was generous enough to give me start to the practice.Through WWOOF, I traveled to Switzerland to learn from Céline Amman, and I also found inspiration and momentum through other makers in the Northern California Fibershed network. Kristine Vejar from A Verb for Keeping Warm, Sasha Duerr, and Kathy Hattori from Botanical Colors in Seattle, WA, played a key role in advancing this craft through online and book instruction and encouraging my journey. To all of these mentors, I am deeply grateful. While I loved the practice of working with natural materials in outdoor settings, I still hadn’t figured out how to make it financially sustainable. The struggle of wanting to pursue something meaningful while needing to meet the demands of survival was a painful reality. I spent something close to a decade, dragging my feet through various jobs, and the transition into this new path felt like a matter of life—or soul—death.

I created a home goods collection in the middle of this and was pleasantly surprised by its success. Most of my items sold through an online shop and outdoor market, despite the higher price points required to account for the time, materials, and skill involved. Curtains, room dividers, pillows, and whimsical décor turned into actual income, which encouraged me to continue down this path. Then came a turning point, during a moment of prayer I felt a clear call to shift my focus to making clothing—an idea I initially despised. To me, the fashion industry represented everything I rejected: greed, vanity, and rampant consumption. However, through deeper soul searching and continued prayer, I realized this was not about perpetuating the industry’s flaws but about being part of the solution. As I delved further, I began to understand the devastating impact of our consumption habits on people and ecosystems across the globe. Northern California’s Fibershed became my beacon of hope, offering a real-time glimpse of the new economic model I had been searching for.

In addition to the practical benefits of this model—such as self-governance, equitable distribution of power and wealth, and the multiplication of responsible, accountable production—it also raised the question of bioregional expression. This concept, deeply rooted in pre-industrial methods, goes back to tribal societies where cultural practices were shaped by and expressed through the natural resources and landscapes of their regions. At its core, it emphasizes a reciprocal relationship with the environment—engaging with and exchanging resources rather than merely extracting them.

My means of upholding these principles is to practice it to the degree that I can as well as promote those who are practicing it. Craft and land based communities still exist, in most of what we call “undeveloped” countries. While the efficiency of industrialization has not fully permeated these communities to enhance certain aspects of daily life, I question the comparison in contentment from those communities to the ones living in urban environments. I’ve come to understand that ultimately, it’s not a matter of choosing one over the other, but achieving balance.

Increasing the presence of goods created by artisan and land based communities fosters greater engagement, responsibility, and harmony with our natural habitat. We are becoming increasingly aware of how integral our connection to the natural world is and the urgency of respecting that. I hope more people will begin to question the way things are and explore ways to create meaningful change. By fostering greater care for our planet, and communities through mindful choices in how we live, create, and clothe ourselves we can create a new way of being. 

Jaqueline Kazuyo Kyoda