Interviews met Kaiqi Zhang

I am a costume designer and visual artist currently pursuing an MFA in Costume Design at California Institute of the Arts (CalArts) in Los Angeles. Before that, I completed my BA in Costume Design for Theatre and Screen at Wimbledon College of Arts, University of the Arts London.

I have been working in costume design for several years through theater productions, film projects, exhibitions, and interdisciplinary collaborations. My practice combines historical research, visual storytelling, and material experimentation, with a particular interest in the relationship between costume, identity, and the body.

Throughout my education and professional experience, I have worked on a wide range of projects, including stage productions, independent films, performance works, and art exhibitions. I have collaborated with directors, producers, artists, and creative teams in the United Kingdom and the United States, developing costumes for both narrative and experimental projects.

In addition to production work, my designs have been presented through exhibitions and publications, including the Fashion Art Exhibition held alongside the publication of The Art of Kaiqi Zhang. I am especially interested in projects that bridge costume design, contemporary art, and performance, allowing costume to function not only as part of a production but also as an independent artistic medium.

My work is shaped by experiences across China, the United Kingdom, Europe, and the United States, and I continue to explore how historical references, cultural narratives, and innovative materials can be combined through design.

I did not become interested in design through fashion trends or commercial brands. What first attracted me was storytelling and the way visual elements can shape how people understand a character, a culture, or an entire world.

As I grew older, I became increasingly interested in history, travel, museums, and different cultures. I enjoyed studying how clothing reflected social values, identity, and human behavior across different periods. Costume design felt like a natural way to combine all of these interests.

My journey as a designer developed through a variety of experiences rather than a single moment. I studied and worked in China, the United Kingdom, Europe, and the United States, and each place influenced how I think about design. Experiences ranging from theater productions and film projects to fashion events and even wildlife research exposed me to different ways of observing people and the world around me.

What continues to drive me today is curiosity. I am fascinated by the relationship between history and contemporary culture, between the human body and the clothing that surrounds it. Design allows me to transform research, observation, and imagination into something tangible that can communicate ideas and emotions.

For me, becoming a designer was not simply choosing a profession. It was finding a way to connect my interests in history, culture, storytelling, travel, and visual expression through a single creative practice.

Three aspects are particularly important in my design process: research, storytelling, and material exploration.

Research is always my starting point. Whether I am designing for theater, film, or an exhibition, I spend a significant amount of time studying historical references, cultural context, visual sources, and the project's narrative. I believe strong design is built on understanding rather than decoration.

The second priority is storytelling. As a costume designer, I am interested in how design can communicate identity, emotion, and character. I want every visual decision to contribute to a larger narrative rather than exist purely for aesthetic purposes.

The third aspect is material exploration. I enjoy experimenting with fabrics, structure, texture, and construction techniques. Many of my projects involve transforming traditional forms through unusual materials or sculptural approaches. Material testing is often where unexpected ideas emerge.

In terms of technique, I rely heavily on both research and hands-on making. While I use digital tools such as Photoshop and Illustrator for presentations and visual development, I prefer to explore ideas physically through hand-made collages, draping, mock-ups, and material experiments. I often discover more by working directly with materials than by working exclusively on a computer.

My design style is influenced by historical references, contemporary visual culture, and sculptural forms. I am particularly interested in the relationship between the body, clothing, and identity. Many of my projects combine historical silhouettes with contemporary materials, creating work that exists somewhere between costume, fashion, and sculpture.

When starting a new project, I usually begin with research and image collection, followed by hand-made collages, sketches, and material testing. From there, I develop prototypes and continue refining the design through experimentation. I see design as an evolving process rather than a fixed plan, and I remain open to discoveries throughout the making stage.

For me, designing begins with curiosity. At the start of a project, I become excited by the process of research and discovery. I enjoy exploring historical references, literature, visual culture, and materials, looking for unexpected connections that can lead to new ideas.

The most exciting stage is usually the moment when an abstract concept starts becoming something tangible. This often happens during experimentation, when materials, sketches, and ideas begin to come together in a way that I did not fully anticipate. I enjoy that sense of exploration because it feels like a conversation between the concept and the making process.

I also find great satisfaction in solving creative problems. Every project presents different challenges, whether they involve storytelling, construction, materials, or collaboration. Finding a solution that is both practical and visually meaningful is one of the most rewarding aspects of design.

Of course, seeing the finished work is exciting as well, especially when it is finally worn by a performer or presented to an audience. However, I think I enjoy the journey more than the final result. The research, experimentation, and gradual development of an idea are the parts of the process that bring me the most happiness.

Ultimately, designing fulfills my curiosity about people, history, and culture. It allows me to transform research and imagination into something physical, and that process of discovery is what keeps me passionate about design.

Several aspects of my background have shaped me as a designer, but interestingly, many of them are not directly related to design itself.

One important influence is my interest in history. I spend a great deal of time studying historical clothing, cultural traditions, and the social contexts behind them. This has taught me to look beyond appearances and understand how objects reflect human behavior, values, and identity. Historical research continues to be a foundation of my creative process.

Travel has also played a significant role in my development. Living and studying in different countries exposed me to diverse cultures, artistic traditions, and ways of thinking. These experiences encouraged me to approach design with curiosity and an open mind rather than relying on a single perspective.

Another important influence comes from my interest in wildlife and the natural world. Observing animals, landscapes, and natural structures has taught me to pay attention to form, texture, adaptation, and transformation. Nature often inspires the way I think about silhouette, material, and movement.

In terms of non-design skills, I believe research, observation, and communication have been just as important as drawing or construction techniques. Research helps me build meaningful concepts, observation helps me understand people and the world around me, and communication allows me to collaborate effectively with directors, performers, and creative teams.

Looking back, my design journey has been shaped by curiosity more than anything else. Whether studying history, traveling, visiting museums, reading literature, or observing nature, I have always been interested in understanding how people express themselves and interact with the world. Design became the medium through which I could transform those interests into visual and physical experiences.

My growth path has been shaped by a gradual expansion of scale, perspective, and ambition. I began by focusing on costume design as a way to support storytelling, but over time my interests expanded into exhibitions, material experimentation, visual art, and interdisciplinary projects. Each project has encouraged me to think beyond clothing itself and consider how costume can communicate ideas about history, identity, culture, and the human body.

Looking ahead, I hope to continue working across theater, film, exhibitions, and contemporary art. I am interested in developing projects that blur the boundaries between costume, sculpture, installation, and performance. Rather than working within a single discipline, I would like to continue exploring how different creative fields can inform one another.

One of my long-term goals is to create large-scale immersive projects where costume becomes part of an entire visual environment. I am fascinated by historical narratives, mythology, and cultural memory, and I would love to develop a project that combines costume design, spatial design, performance, and audience interaction.

In the future, I hope to be remembered as a designer who approached costume as more than clothing. I would like my work to be recognized for combining historical research, material innovation, and storytelling in a way that encourages people to think differently about the relationship between the body, culture, and visual expression.

My dream project is one that I have not fully created yet—a large interdisciplinary work that brings together history, performance, sculpture, technology, and installation design. I think the most exciting projects are always the ones that still feel slightly beyond your current abilities, because they continue to push you to learn and grow as a designer.

My advice to young designers is to stay curious and be patient with your development.

Many people focus on developing a recognizable style as quickly as possible, but I think it is more important to build knowledge first. Read widely, visit museums, travel when possible, study history, observe people, and learn from fields outside of design. Strong design often comes from having a broad understanding of the world rather than simply following visual trends.

One thing I would caution young designers about is comparing themselves too closely to others. Design careers develop at different speeds, and growth is rarely linear. Some of the most valuable lessons come from projects that do not go as planned. Learning how to adapt, solve problems, and continue improving is more important than achieving quick success.

A piece of advice that has stayed with me is that research is never wasted. Even if only a small part of your research appears in the final design, the knowledge you gain will strengthen your thinking and help you make more meaningful decisions. This idea has influenced the way I approach every project.

I am also fascinated by mythology, symbols, and totemic imagery. Across different cultures, people have used symbols, animals, and visual rituals to express beliefs, identity, and collective memory. Studying these systems has helped me understand how visual language can communicate complex ideas without words. This interest continues to influence the way I think about storytelling and design.

To continue growing, I try to remain a student even when I am working professionally. I read, visit exhibitions, study historical garments, observe nature, and explore subjects outside my immediate field. For me, becoming a better designer is closely connected to becoming a more curious and knowledgeable person.

One piece of advice I would give to fellow designers is to avoid becoming trapped by aesthetics alone. Visual appeal is important, but design becomes much more powerful when it is supported by strong ideas, research, and a clear purpose.

I also believe that designers should cultivate interests beyond their own discipline. Some of the most valuable insights in my work have come from history, mythology, literature, travel, museums, wildlife observation, and cultural studies rather than from design itself. The broader your knowledge, the richer your creative vocabulary becomes.

Another important principle is to remain curious and adaptable. Technologies, trends, and industries will continue to change, but curiosity remains relevant throughout an entire career. The designers who continue learning are often the ones who continue growing.

I would also encourage designers to spend more time observing and less time imitating. It is easy to be influenced by what is currently popular, but lasting work usually comes from developing a unique perspective. Originality is often the result of combining knowledge, experience, and personal interests in a way that nobody else can replicate.

Finally, I think designers should embrace complexity rather than seek shortcuts. Meaningful work rarely emerges from the fastest solution. It comes from asking better questions, conducting deeper research, and remaining open to unexpected discoveries throughout the creative process.

For me, the most successful designers are not necessarily those with the strongest personal brand or the most recognizable style. They are the ones who remain intellectually curious, continue evolving, and use design as a way to explore and understand the world.

My days are usually a mixture of planning, making, and problem-solving.

I often begin by checking messages from collaborators and reviewing what needs immediate attention. Some days are focused on fittings, sourcing garments, or communicating with production teams. Other days are spent developing concepts, preparing presentations, or organizing upcoming projects.

One thing I enjoy about my profession is that the work changes constantly. I might spend the morning searching through rental houses and fabric suppliers, then spend the afternoon sewing, modifying garments, or preparing for a photoshoot or production meeting.

I also enjoy the quieter moments of the day. Sometimes I will discover an interesting exhibition, read an article about a historical figure, or come across an unusual image that sparks a completely new idea. Those unexpected moments often become the starting point for future projects.

The most satisfying part of my day is seeing progress. Whether it is solving a difficult construction problem, finding the perfect garment for a character, or watching a design come together during a fitting, I enjoy the feeling that an idea is gradually becoming real.

What keeps the work exciting is that every project introduces different people, challenges, and stories. Even after years of working in design, there is always something new to learn.

I pay attention to design trends, but I do not treat them as a starting point for my work.

Of course, I follow what is happening in contemporary fashion, art, film, and visual culture. I visit exhibitions, read industry publications, and observe how aesthetics evolve across different creative fields. It is important to understand the cultural moment you are working in.

However, I think trends are most useful as indicators rather than instructions. They can reveal what people are thinking about, what materials are emerging, or what conversations are taking place, but I do not believe designers should follow trends blindly.

As a costume designer, I am often working with stories that are connected to history, mythology, literature, or specific characters. Because of this, the needs of the project are usually more important than what happens to be fashionable at a particular moment.

I am more interested in developing a personal design language that can continue evolving over time. Some ideas may become trendy for a season and disappear a year later, while themes such as identity, power, desire, memory, and human behavior remain relevant regardless of trends.

When looking for inspiration, I am just as likely to find it in an old museum collection, a forgotten historical photograph, a piece of folklore, or an encounter during travel as I am in contemporary design media. I think the strongest work often comes from combining influences from different periods rather than following what is currently popular.

For me, trends are worth understanding, but they should never replace independent thinking. A designer should know what is happening in the world while still maintaining their own voice.

For me, good design begins with clarity of intention. The first question I ask is simple: Does the design achieve what it is trying to do?

A design does not need to be visually complex or innovative to be successful. If it communicates its purpose effectively and creates the intended experience, it has already achieved something important.

When evaluating a project, I usually look at three things: concept, execution, and coherence. A strong concept provides direction, thoughtful execution demonstrates skill, and coherence ensures that all elements work together rather than competing with one another.

The moment that makes me think, "That's a good design," is when every decision feels necessary. Nothing appears arbitrary. The form, materials, details, and overall experience all seem to support the same idea.

One common mistake is focusing too much on appearance while neglecting purpose. It is possible for something to be visually striking but conceptually weak. Another mistake is adding unnecessary elements that distract from the core idea. In my experience, strong design is often the result of careful editing rather than adding more.

As a costume designer, I also pay attention to whether a design creates meaning beyond itself. The projects I admire most are those that reveal something about people, culture, history, or human experience. They remain interesting not because they follow a trend, but because they communicate an idea that continues to resonate over time.

Ultimately, I believe good design is intentional, coherent, and meaningful. It should make people feel, think, or understand something that they did not before encountering it.

I do not believe a design is ever perfect, but I do believe there is a moment when it becomes complete.

For me, that moment comes when the design successfully communicates its core idea and every major decision supports that intention. At a certain point, additional changes no longer make the work stronger—they simply make it different.

During the design process, I often ask myself whether a new modification genuinely improves the project or whether I am changing something simply because I have spent a long time looking at it. Learning to recognize that difference is important.

In costume design, there is also a practical aspect. A design must eventually move from concept to reality. It needs to function for performers, support the production, and exist within the constraints of time and resources. Part of being a professional designer is knowing when to refine and when to move forward.

That said, I rarely look back at old projects and think they are completely finished. As I gain more experience, I can always imagine alternative solutions or new directions. I think this is a natural part of creative growth rather than a sign that the work was unsuccessful.

As for success, I do not measure it only by awards, recognition, or audience response. A project feels successful when the final result captures the essence of the original idea while still surprising me in some way. If the work communicates what I hoped it would communicate and creates a meaningful experience for others, I consider it successful.

In many ways, design is a balance between ambition and acceptance. There is always another detail to improve, but eventually you have to trust the work, let it go, and begin the next project.

One of the most significant projects in my practice is Foam of Desire, a costume-based artwork inspired by Sir Epicure Mammon from Ben Jonson's The Alchemist.

What makes this project special to me is that it brought together many of the interests that have shaped my work over the years: historical costume, material experimentation, sculpture, and narrative. Rather than creating a traditional costume, I wanted to explore how clothing could function as a physical manifestation of desire, excess, and decay.

The project began with historical research into seventeenth-century European aristocratic dress. I studied period garment structures and then deliberately distorted and expanded them. The challenge was to maintain recognizable historical references while transforming them into something contemporary and unsettling.

A major part of the design process involved material experimentation. I worked extensively with an unconventional fabric that could be manipulated while wet and permanently fixed after drying. Through numerous tests, I developed translucent bubble-like forms that created an appearance somewhere between luxury, flesh, and deterioration. Much of the project evolved through trial and error, and the material itself often influenced the final direction of the work.

What I am most proud of is that the piece operates on multiple levels. From a distance, it appears colorful, extravagant, and visually attractive. Upon closer inspection, viewers begin to notice a sense of excess, instability, and discomfort. That tension between attraction and unease was central to the concept.

I consider it one of my most important works because it represents a point where historical research, conceptual thinking, and technical experimentation came together successfully. It also pushed me beyond conventional costume design and closer to the territory of sculpture and contemporary art.

At the same time, I am excited about current projects that explore speculative futures and world-building through costume design. Moving between historical subjects and imagined futures continues to be one of the most rewarding aspects of my practice, because both require creating visual systems that help audiences understand unfamiliar worlds.

This may sound unconventional, but I do not have a single favorite designer.

Of course, I admire many artists, designers, and creators throughout history, and I learn from their work. However, I have never been interested in following one individual as a model. I believe every designer should eventually develop their own voice rather than spend their career trying to become a second version of someone else.

What inspires me most is not a particular designer, but the idea of pushing beyond existing boundaries and creating work that contributes something new to the conversation.

If I am being honest, my goal is not to find an idol. My goal is to become the kind of designer whose work inspires future generations. I hope that one day a young designer might look at my projects and discover something that encourages them to think differently or take creative risks.

I think admiration is valuable, but originality is even more important. The designers who leave the greatest impact are often the ones who stop following established paths and begin creating their own. That is the direction I hope to pursue throughout my career.

I would describe my lifestyle as curious, observant, and constantly moving between different interests. Outside of design, I enjoy traveling, visiting museums, exploring historical sites, observing wildlife, and learning about different cultures. These experiences often influence the way I see the world and, ultimately, the way I approach design.

Having lived and studied in China, the United Kingdom, Europe, and the United States, I feel that my work has been shaped by multiple cultural perspectives. Chinese culture gave me an appreciation for symbolism, craftsmanship, and historical continuity, while my experiences abroad introduced me to different approaches to art, performance, and critical thinking. Rather than identifying with a single cultural viewpoint, I am interested in the dialogue between them.

If I had to choose a city that inspires me, it would probably be London. It is a place where history and contemporary culture coexist in a very natural way. I spent several formative years there, and its museums, theaters, archives, and multicultural environment had a lasting impact on me.

Music is also an important part of my creative process, although not in a direct way. I often listen to music while researching, sketching, or developing concepts. Different types of music help create different mental spaces, and sometimes a rhythm, atmosphere, or emotion can influence the mood of a project.

At the moment, I am based in Los Angeles and working on a variety of costume design projects across theater and film. One of the things I enjoy most about my current work is moving between different worlds—from historical subjects to speculative futures, from stage productions to screen projects.

I believe good design is important because it shapes how people experience the world. Design influences the objects we use, the environments we inhabit, and the stories we tell about ourselves. Even small design decisions can affect behavior, communication, and perception.

In my own life, design has taught me to pay attention to details, to think more intentionally, and to appreciate the relationship between function and meaning. Good design is not only about making things beautiful—it is about helping people understand, connect, and imagine new possibilities.

I would describe my work philosophy as collaborative, responsible, and concept-driven.

Although design often begins with individual ideas, I believe the strongest projects are created through collaboration. Most of my work involves directors, producers, performers, fabricators, and other creative professionals. Because of this, communication is just as important as creativity. I value people who are reliable, open-minded, and genuinely invested in the success of a project.

I think I am relatively easy to work with because I am adaptable and solution-oriented. Creative projects rarely go exactly as planned, so I try to focus on finding practical solutions rather than becoming attached to a single idea. At the same time, I care deeply about quality and expect the same level of commitment from collaborators.

When selecting collaborators, I pay more attention to attitude than reputation. Technical skills can always be developed, but curiosity, professionalism, respect for others, and a willingness to learn are qualities that are much harder to teach. I enjoy working with people who bring their own perspectives and are not afraid to contribute ideas.

One thing that should never be forgotten about my approach to work is that I value substance over appearance. Whether designing a costume, an exhibition, or a visual concept, I believe every decision should have a purpose. A strong project is not simply beautiful—it communicates something meaningful.

One of the core challenges of my profession is balancing artistic ambition with practical realities. Designers must constantly navigate budgets, schedules, technical limitations, and collaboration while still protecting the integrity of the creative vision.

As for the qualities of a good designer, I would place curiosity above almost everything else. Curiosity leads to learning, and learning leads to better design. Beyond that, I think observation, discipline, resilience, adaptability, and strong communication skills are all essential. Design is not only about creating beautiful things; it is about understanding people, solving problems, and continuously expanding the way we see the world.

I believe designers have a responsibility not only to create new things, but also to think about the impact those creations have on people and the environment.

In my own practice, I am increasingly interested in sustainability, reuse, and material lifespan. Costume production can generate a significant amount of waste, so I try to consider how garments can be repurposed, modified, or given a second life rather than being discarded after a single use. I am interested in exploring how creative work can be produced with greater environmental awareness while maintaining artistic quality.

I also believe that artists and designers can play an important role in humanitarian and environmental conversations. Design has the ability to attract attention, communicate complex ideas, and encourage people to care about issues they might otherwise overlook.

One project that left a strong impression on me was learning about artists and volunteers who knitted protective sweaters for penguins affected by oil spills. I was fascinated by the idea that a creative skill could be used in such a direct and practical way to support wildlife conservation. It demonstrated that design and craftsmanship are not only cultural activities—they can also have tangible benefits for living communities and ecosystems.

Looking toward the future, I would be interested in participating in projects that combine design, environmental awareness, wildlife conservation, and education. I am particularly interested in initiatives that use creativity to help people better understand their relationship with nature and the world around them.

For me, giving back as a designer does not necessarily mean creating more objects. Sometimes it means using design to raise awareness, support communities, encourage sustainable thinking, and create positive change on a small but meaningful scale.

Participating in the A’ Design Award was a very positive experience because it allowed my work to reach an international audience beyond my immediate professional and academic circles.

One of the biggest benefits of design competitions is visibility. Design can often exist within a relatively small network, but international awards provide opportunities for projects to be seen by people from different countries, disciplines, and industries. This creates valuable connections and conversations that might not happen otherwise.

A second benefit is reflection. Preparing a project for competition requires designers to clearly articulate their ideas, process, and goals. I found that this process encouraged me to think critically about my own work and better understand the strengths and weaknesses of a project.

The third benefit is professional development. Design competitions expose designers to a wide range of approaches and perspectives. Seeing work from other designers around the world can be both educational and motivating, encouraging continual growth and experimentation.

I believe design competitions remain relevant because they create platforms for dialogue. They bring together designers from different backgrounds and provide opportunities to share ideas, challenge assumptions, and explore new directions for the field.

Being recognized as a Designer of the Day was both exciting and encouraging. More than the title itself, I appreciated the opportunity to share my work and creative process with a wider audience. Recognition is meaningful, but what I value most is the chance to contribute to larger conversations about design, creativity, and innovation.

Ultimately, I see awards not as a final destination, but as milestones within a much longer creative journey. The most important outcome is not the recognition itself, but the opportunities for learning, exchange, and future growth that come from participating.

The main idea behind *Foam of Desire* was to visualize desire as a physical condition rather than an abstract emotion.

The project was inspired by Sir Epicure Mammon from Ben Jonson's *The Alchemist*, a character whose obsession with wealth, pleasure, and excess ultimately becomes self-destructive. I was interested in translating this psychological state into a wearable form. Instead of illustrating greed through symbols such as gold or jewels, I wanted the garment itself to embody the process of accumulation, expansion, and decay.

The design draws from seventeenth-century European aristocratic menswear, particularly the silhouette and construction methods documented in Janet Arnold's *Patterns of Fashion*. I retained recognizable elements such as the doublet, trunk hose, and ruff collar, but exaggerated and distorted them to create an unstable and excessive body.

A major source of inspiration came from the contrast between attraction and discomfort. I wanted the costume to appear seductive at first glance, with bright colors, translucent surfaces, and luxurious volume. However, upon closer inspection, the inflated bubble-like structures begin to resemble organic growths, creating a subtle sense of unease. This tension reflects the central concept of the work: desire is attractive precisely because it conceals its own consequences.

The title *Foam of Desire* refers to this unstable condition. Foam is beautiful, light, and expansive, yet temporary and fragile. It grows rapidly, occupies space, and eventually collapses. In many ways, I saw it as a metaphor for unchecked desire itself.

Ultimately, the project explores how beauty, excess, and decay can coexist within a single form, transforming a historical costume into a contemporary reflection on human ambition and longing.

My main focus was to transform an abstract idea into a physical experience.

Rather than designing a costume that simply represented greed or luxury, I wanted viewers to feel the seductive and overwhelming nature of desire through the garment itself. The project explores how desire expands beyond control, gradually consuming the person who pursues it.

One of my primary goals was to challenge the traditional relationship between the body and clothing. Historically, garments are designed to shape, decorate, or protect the body. In *Foam of Desire*, I wanted the costume to appear as if it was growing beyond the body and beginning to take over. By enlarging the doublet and creating inflated organic forms, the silhouette shifts from something worn by a person to something that almost possesses them.

Another important objective was to create a visual tension between beauty and discomfort. I wanted audiences to be attracted by the vibrant colors, translucency, and sculptural forms, but then gradually notice signs of excess, instability, and decay. This duality reflects the nature of desire itself: it is often most appealing at the moment it becomes most dangerous.

Material experimentation was also central to the project. I was interested in discovering how unconventional materials could communicate psychological ideas. The bubble-like structures allowed me to create a surface that feels luxurious, fragile, organic, and artificial at the same time.

Ultimately, what I wanted to achieve was a costume that functions not only as clothing, but as a visual metaphor. The work asks how far desire can expand before it begins to consume the person who created it.

I see *Foam of Desire* as the beginning of a larger body of work rather than a finished destination.

In the future, I would like to continue developing the ideas explored in this project through new materials, larger installations, and more immersive forms of presentation. The themes of desire, excess, transformation, and the relationship between the body and material culture remain subjects that I am deeply interested in investigating.

I am also interested in expanding the project beyond a single costume. The visual language developed in *Foam of Desire* has the potential to evolve into a broader world of characters, objects, and environments. I would like to explore how these concepts might exist within exhibitions, performance works, or interdisciplinary projects that combine costume, sculpture, and spatial experience.

Receiving recognition for the project has encouraged me to continue pushing the boundaries between costume design and contemporary art. I hope future iterations will further challenge traditional definitions of what a costume can be and how audiences engage with it.

Most importantly, I would like the work to continue generating conversations about beauty, consumption, and human desire. These themes are timeless, and I believe there are still many directions left to explore.

The development of *Foam of Desire* took approximately five months from the initial concept to the completed work.

Much of that time was dedicated to material experimentation. While the historical references and conceptual framework were established relatively early, the final visual language emerged through an extended process of testing and refinement.

The project is based on a special mesh-like material that becomes moldable when wet and retains its shape once dry. I combined this material with transparent plastic structures to create organic, bubble-like forms that appear to grow across the garment's surface. Rather than representing actual foam, these forms were developed as sculptural elements that could suggest expansion, accumulation, and transformation.

Because the behavior of the material could not be fully predicted in advance, many design decisions were made through hands-on experimentation. The final silhouette evolved gradually as different structures, scales, and surface treatments were tested.

For me, the project was not only about constructing a costume but also about discovering how material properties could communicate ideas. The five-month process became a dialogue between historical garment construction and contemporary material exploration, ultimately shaping the final form of the work.

*Foam of Desire* was not originally a commissioned project. It began as a university design assignment that explored the relationship between character, material, and visual storytelling.

During the early stages of development, I became increasingly interested in the figure of Sir Epicure Mammon from Ben Jonson's *The Alchemist*. His obsession with wealth, pleasure, and limitless consumption raised questions that felt surprisingly contemporary. Rather than treating the character as a historical figure, I wanted to explore how desire itself could be translated into form.

As the project evolved, it grew beyond the requirements of the original assignment. The material experimentation, historical research, and conceptual development opened possibilities that I wanted to pursue further. What began as an academic project gradually became an independent creative investigation.

The work later went on to receive Second Place in a costume design competition organized by the British Costume Association, which encouraged me to continue developing and presenting the project to wider audiences. That recognition confirmed that the ideas explored in the piece resonated beyond the classroom environment.

Looking back, one of the reasons the project became so important to me is that it emerged from personal curiosity rather than a commercial brief. It allowed me to take risks, experiment freely, and develop a visual language that combined historical costume, contemporary materials, and conceptual storytelling in a way that felt genuinely my own.

At the moment, *Foam of Desire* exists as an independent artistic and experimental design project rather than a commercial product.

The work was created as a conceptual costume piece and has primarily been presented in exhibition and competition contexts. It was developed to explore material experimentation, historical references, and visual storytelling rather than for mass production.

That said, I believe the ideas, techniques, and visual language developed through the project have the potential to evolve into future collaborations. I would be interested in adapting elements of the work for exhibitions, performances, film productions, or other interdisciplinary artistic projects if the right opportunity arises.

My current focus is on continuing to develop the concepts behind the project rather than licensing it for commercial production. I see *Foam of Desire* as part of an ongoing creative investigation, and I am interested in how its themes and material approaches might expand into future works.

For now, the project remains artist-led and independently developed, allowing me to maintain creative control while exploring new directions for its evolution.

I was drawn to this type of work because it allowed me to combine several interests that have shaped my practice for many years: historical costume, material experimentation, character-driven storytelling, and sculptural form.

As a designer, I have always been fascinated by the idea that clothing can communicate complex ideas about human nature. Costume is not only something people wear; it can reveal ambition, fear, desire, status, belief, and identity. This project gave me the opportunity to explore those themes through both form and material.

I was particularly interested in creating a work that existed between costume and contemporary art. Rather than focusing solely on functionality or historical reconstruction, I wanted to investigate how a garment could become a physical metaphor. The figure of Sir Epicure Mammon provided an ideal starting point because his character embodies excess, obsession, and the pursuit of limitless desire.

Another reason I pursued this project was my interest in pushing traditional costume construction beyond its expected boundaries. By combining historical silhouettes with experimental materials and sculptural techniques, I was able to create a visual language that felt both familiar and unfamiliar at the same time.

Ultimately, this type of work appealed to me because it offered the freedom to explore ideas, materials, and narratives simultaneously. It allowed historical research, craftsmanship, and conceptual thinking to exist within a single piece.

Rather than being influenced by a specific contemporary designer, *Foam of Desire* was shaped primarily by historical garments, theatrical literature, and costume history research.

One of the most important references was Janet Arnold's *Patterns of Fashion*, which provided detailed insight into seventeenth-century European dress construction. The project draws upon historical elements such as the doublet, trunk hose, and ruff collar, which served as the structural foundation of the design.

The literary influence came from Ben Jonson's *The Alchemist*, particularly the character Sir Epicure Mammon. His extravagant fantasies of wealth, pleasure, and excess became the conceptual starting point for the work and informed many of the visual decisions throughout the design process.

I was also influenced by historical objects preserved in museum collections. I have always been fascinated by how clothing can embody social values, aspirations, and cultural attitudes. Studying historical garments helped me understand how status and desire were visually expressed in different periods.

While there was no single designer whose work directly inspired the project, I was interested in challenging the boundary between costume and sculpture. The final piece emerged from combining historical research with material experimentation rather than following an existing designer's aesthetic language.

In that sense, the strongest influences behind *Foam of Desire* were history, literature, and the garments themselves rather than any individual contemporary designer.

Before answering the question, I would like to note that I found the wording interesting. The question refers to the designer as "his," which assumes the designer is male. As a female designer, I believe it is important that the language used in design and creative industries reflects the diversity of the people working within them. A more inclusive wording such as "their design" would be more appropriate.

As for the project itself, *Foam of Desire* was not developed for a conventional consumer market. Its primary audience consists of theater productions, fantasy and historical films, immersive performances, exhibitions, and other creative contexts where costume serves as a narrative and artistic medium. The work was created to explore storytelling, symbolism, and material experimentation, making it particularly relevant to projects that require strong visual world-building and character development.

What distinguishes *Foam of Desire* is the way it combines historical costume construction, material experimentation, and conceptual storytelling within a single work.

Many historical costume projects focus on reconstruction, while many contemporary costume works prioritize visual spectacle. *Foam of Desire* occupies a space between these approaches. It begins with authentic seventeenth-century garment structures, including the doublet, trunk hose, and ruff collar, but transforms them into a contemporary sculptural form that communicates a psychological idea rather than a historical reality.

Another distinctive aspect of the project is its material development. Instead of relying on conventional textile techniques, I worked with a moldable mesh material and transparent structural elements to create organic, bubble-like surfaces. These forms appear luxurious and playful from a distance, yet become increasingly unsettling upon closer inspection. This visual contradiction is central to the concept.

The project is also unusual in that it treats costume as both a character study and a sculptural object. The garment does not simply dress the body; it appears to grow beyond it. The silhouette expands, distorts, and almost consumes the wearer, transforming an internal condition—desire—into a visible physical presence.

Most importantly, the work does not present excess as purely beautiful or purely grotesque. Instead, it exists in the unstable space between attraction and discomfort. That tension is what gives the project its identity and sets it apart from more conventional historical, fashion, or costume-based works.

The title *Foam of Desire* emerged during the development of the project as both a visual and conceptual description of the work.

Visually, the costume is covered with translucent, bubble-like forms that spread across the garment's surface. These sculptural elements create the impression of foam growing over the body, making the title a direct reference to the appearance of the piece itself.

At the same time, the title reflects the central idea behind the project. Inspired by Sir Epicure Mammon from Ben Jonson's *The Alchemist*, the work explores desire, excess, and the endless pursuit of more. I became interested in the way desire expands beyond necessity, accumulating layer upon layer until it begins to overwhelm the individual.

Foam felt like an appropriate metaphor for this condition. It grows rapidly, occupies space, appears attractive and abundant, yet remains fragile and temporary. In many ways, desire behaves similarly. It can be seductive and beautiful, but it can also become unstable when it expands without limits.

For me, the title connects the physical appearance of the costume with its underlying meaning. The bubble-like structures resemble foam, while the foam itself becomes a symbol of desire—something that continuously grows, transforms, and ultimately reveals its own fragility.

The development of *Foam of Desire* relied primarily on historical research, material experimentation, and hand-made visual exploration rather than digital design tools.

The project began with extensive research into seventeenth-century European dress, particularly garment construction methods documented in Janet Arnold's *Patterns of Fashion*. This historical research provided the structural foundation for the design.

To develop the visual direction, I worked extensively with hand-made collages. I collected and combined historical references, textures, colors, artworks, and material samples to build the conceptual world of the project. This process allowed unexpected connections and visual relationships to emerge organically.

Much of the design was developed directly through making. Instead of relying heavily on digital rendering, I experimented with materials by hand, testing forms, structures, proportions, and surface effects through physical prototypes. The final silhouette evolved through a continuous dialogue between concept and material.

Because the project explores transformation and organic growth, I found that working physically with materials was more valuable than creating highly finished digital visualizations. The design emerged through research, observation, collage, and hands-on experimentation, making the process itself an essential part of the final outcome.

The most unique aspect of *Foam of Desire* is the way it transforms desire into a physical structure.

Rather than using costume to represent a character externally, I wanted the garment itself to become an extension of the character's inner condition. The costume does not simply decorate the body—it appears to grow beyond it, expand around it, and gradually consume it. In this sense, desire becomes visible.

Another distinctive element is the combination of historical tailoring and experimental material construction. The work is rooted in authentic seventeenth-century garment structures, yet the silhouette is transformed through sculptural, bubble-like forms created from a moldable mesh material and transparent structural elements. This creates a visual language that feels simultaneously historical and unfamiliar.

I am also interested in the tension between attraction and discomfort. From a distance, the work appears colorful, luxurious, and almost playful. As viewers move closer, the forms become increasingly excessive and unstable. This shift in perception mirrors the conceptual theme of the project itself.

Ultimately, what makes the design unique is that it exists between multiple categories. It is simultaneously costume, sculpture, historical reference, and conceptual artwork. Rather than fitting comfortably into a single discipline, it explores the space where those disciplines overlap.

*Foam of Desire* was developed as an independent project, and the design, research, material development, pattern adaptation, and construction were carried out by myself.

Because the work originated as an experimental costume project, I was interested in maintaining direct control over both the conceptual and technical aspects of the process. This allowed the design to evolve organically through research and material testing rather than being divided among multiple specialists.

The project did not rely on external technical consultants or specialized fabricators. Instead, I spent a significant amount of time experimenting with materials, construction methods, and structural solutions myself. Much of the final outcome emerged through hands-on investigation and trial-and-error.

Although the work was independently realized, it was informed by historical costume scholarship, particularly research into seventeenth-century garment construction. In that sense, the project was supported by knowledge preserved through costume historians, museum collections, and archival resources.

For this particular design, I felt it was important that the conceptual vision and physical execution remained closely connected. The material experiments, structural decisions, and visual language all developed simultaneously throughout the making process, making the project a highly personal and self-directed exploration.

Technology was essential to this project, particularly in terms of pattern-making and garment construction.

*Foam of Desire* is built upon seventeenth-century European menswear patterns, drawing from the historical cutting systems documented in Janet Arnold's *Patterns of Fashion*. Rather than simply borrowing the visual appearance of historical dress, I reconstructed and adapted these complex pattern structures as the foundation of the work.

One of the greatest technical challenges was balancing historical accuracy with transformation. The doublet, trunk hose, and ruff collar all required advanced pattern-cutting and construction techniques before they could be distorted, enlarged, and reinterpreted into the final silhouette.

The project also demanded a high level of craftsmanship during fabrication. Every sculptural volume had to be individually shaped, integrated into the garment, and supported without compromising the structure of the costume. Achieving the final form required extensive sewing, pattern modification, structural problem-solving, and repeated refinements throughout the making process.

While the project is conceptually driven, it could not have been realized without strong technical skills. Historical pattern cutting, tailoring knowledge, and garment construction were just as important as the artistic idea itself. In many ways, the final result is a combination of historical craftsmanship and contemporary experimentation.

Yes, the project was informed by focused historical and textual research rather than quantitative data.

One area of research involved studying seventeenth-century European menswear, particularly the construction methods and pattern systems documented in Janet Arnold's *Patterns of Fashion*. This research informed the proportions, silhouette, and structural foundation of the garment.

I also conducted literary research into Ben Jonson's *The Alchemist*, focusing on the character of Sir Epicure Mammon. His obsession with wealth, excess, and pleasure became the conceptual basis of the project and guided many of the design decisions.

In addition, I investigated historical representations of status, luxury, and aristocratic self-fashioning. Understanding how wealth and power were visually expressed in clothing helped me develop the exaggerated forms and proportions that define the final piece.

Rather than using research to recreate a historical garment, I used it as a framework for transformation. The final design emerged from the intersection of historical construction, literary interpretation, and material experimentation.

One of the biggest challenges was balancing historical accuracy with creative transformation.

The design is rooted in seventeenth-century European menswear, and I wanted the underlying structure to remain recognizable. At the same time, the project required those historical forms to be exaggerated and reimagined to communicate the themes of excess and desire. Finding the point where the garment still felt historically grounded while becoming something entirely new required many iterations.

Another challenge involved construction. The sculptural bubble-like forms were not decorative additions applied at the end of the process; they had to become part of the garment's structure. This required extensive experimentation to determine how the forms could be shaped, attached, and supported without overwhelming the silhouette or compromising the integrity of the costume.

Material behavior also presented difficulties. The moldable mesh material reacted differently from traditional costume fabrics, making it difficult to predict the final outcome. Many samples and prototypes were necessary before I could achieve the balance between volume, transparency, and structural stability that I was looking for.

Perhaps the most challenging aspect was ensuring that the concept remained visible throughout the making process. It was important that every technical decision—from pattern cutting to construction details—continued to support the central idea of desire expanding beyond control. Maintaining that connection between concept and execution was a constant consideration throughout the project.

I decided to submit Foam of Desire to an international design competition because I believe growth comes from challenge. Presenting work to an international audience allows a project to be evaluated from perspectives beyond one's own educational, cultural, or professional environment.

I was particularly interested in the A' Design Award because of its global reach and multidisciplinary nature. The competition brings together designers, artists, architects, and innovators from many different fields, creating a platform where ideas can be viewed within a broader international context. I felt that Foam of Desire, which exists between costume design, sculpture, and contemporary art, would benefit from that kind of dialogue.

Another reason for participating was the opportunity to introduce costume design to audiences who may not normally encounter it in a design competition setting. I believe costume can communicate complex ideas just as effectively as products, architecture, or visual design, and I wanted to contribute to that conversation.

Receiving recognition from the A' Design Award was particularly meaningful because it demonstrated that the project's themes, craftsmanship, and experimental approach could resonate across cultural and disciplinary boundaries. For me, the experience reinforced the value of taking creative risks and sharing work with a wider international community.

One of the most important lessons I learned from *Foam of Desire* was how to trust the dialogue between concept and making.

At the beginning of the project, I had a clear thematic direction, but many aspects of the final form emerged through experimentation rather than planning. The process taught me that materials can actively contribute to the development of an idea rather than simply serving it.

I also strengthened my technical skills in historical pattern adaptation and garment construction. Working with seventeenth-century structures while simultaneously transforming them into something contemporary required a deeper understanding of proportion, silhouette, and structural balance than many of my previous projects.

Perhaps most importantly, the project encouraged me to think beyond traditional categories. During its development, I realized that I was not only designing a costume. I was creating something that existed between costume, sculpture, and conceptual art. That realization expanded my understanding of what costume design could be and opened new directions for my future practice.

Looking back, *Foam of Desire* taught me to be more ambitious, both technically and conceptually. It showed me that research, craftsmanship, and experimentation can coexist within a single work and that some of the most rewarding discoveries happen when a project moves beyond its original expectations.

One aspect that may not be immediately visible in the finished work is the amount of technical craftsmanship behind it.

Because *Foam of Desire* appears highly sculptural and experimental, viewers often focus on the conceptual narrative or the unusual surface forms. However, the project is equally rooted in historical tailoring, pattern-making, and garment construction. The final piece could only exist because these technical foundations were carefully developed and adapted throughout the process.

I would also emphasize that the project was never intended as a critique of luxury itself. Instead, it examines the tension between attraction and excess. I am interested in the moment when beauty becomes overwhelming, when abundance becomes instability, and when desire begins to transform both the individual and their surroundings.

Finally, I hope the work encourages people to think about costume differently. Costume is often viewed as something that supports a story, but it can also function as a form of research, sculpture, and conceptual expression. With Foam of Desire, I wanted to explore those possibilities and demonstrate how clothing can communicate ideas that extend far beyond the body itself.

I am a costume designer whose practice combines theater, film, visual art, and material experimentation.

My design education began in London, where I studied Costume for Theatre and Screen at Wimbledon College of Arts, University of the Arts London. During my undergraduate years, I developed a strong foundation in costume history, character development, garment construction, and performance design. I also had the opportunity to study in Antwerp, Belgium, where I was exposed to different artistic perspectives and approaches to visual storytelling.

These experiences allowed me to work across different cultural and creative environments, broadening my understanding of design beyond a single discipline or tradition.

I am currently pursuing an MFA in Costume Design at California Institute of the Arts (CalArts) in Los Angeles. My recent work spans theater productions, short films, exhibitions, and interdisciplinary projects. Through these experiences, I have become increasingly interested in the relationship between costume, identity, historical references, and contemporary material experimentation.

Having studied and worked in China, the United Kingdom, Europe, and the United States, I have developed a cross-cultural perspective that continues to influence both my creative process and design philosophy.

What motivates me most is the opportunity to transform ideas into something people can experience.

I became a designer because I was fascinated by the relationship between people, culture, and visual expression. I have always been interested in history, literature, performance, and the ways that objects can communicate meaning. Design gave me a way to bring those interests together.

What keeps me motivated today is that every project begins with a question. Sometimes it is about a character, sometimes a historical period, and sometimes a larger idea about identity, desire, memory, or society. I enjoy the process of exploring those questions and finding visual ways to express them.

I am also motivated by discovery. Every project teaches me something new, whether it is a construction technique, a historical reference, a cultural tradition, or a material I have never worked with before. That constant learning is one of the reasons I continue to enjoy design.

Ultimately, I became a designer because I wanted to create worlds, tell stories, and give physical form to ideas. What motivates me now is the same thing: the possibility of turning imagination, research, and observation into something tangible and meaningful.

I definitely chose to become a designer.

In fact, costume design is a relatively specialized field, so it is not a profession people usually enter by accident. The more I learned about theater, film, visual culture, and history, the more I realized that design was the field that brought together everything I was interested in.

Of course, there were moments when the path was challenging. Design requires a great deal of time, discipline, and persistence, and there are often easier career choices available. However, I never felt forced into it. Every major step I took was the result of my own decision and curiosity.

What attracted me was the freedom to explore ideas and create something that did not exist before. I enjoyed the combination of research, creativity, problem-solving, and hands-on making. Over time, that interest became a profession.

Looking back, I think becoming a designer was less about choosing a job and more about choosing a way of thinking. Design encourages me to observe the world, ask questions, and continuously learn from different people, cultures, and experiences. That is why I continue to find it meaningful today.

I primarily design costumes for theater, film, and performance projects. My work ranges from historical productions and contemporary stories to speculative and fantasy-based worlds. I am particularly interested in projects where costume plays an active role in storytelling rather than simply serving as clothing.

In the future, I would like to design more large-scale fantasy and historical productions. These projects allow me to combine research, world-building, and visual imagination in ways that I find especially rewarding. I am fascinated by mythology, folklore, ritual, and historical dress, and I enjoy transforming these references into new visual languages.

I am also interested in creating more interdisciplinary work that exists between costume, sculpture, installation, and performance. Some of the projects I hope to pursue in the future would allow audiences to experience costume not only as part of a narrative, but as an independent artistic medium that can shape space, emotion, and human interaction.

First, I would not encourage anyone to try to become a legend. I think the better goal is to become a designer with a unique perspective.

My advice is to build knowledge before building a personal brand. Study history, literature, art, film, science, nature, and cultures beyond your own. The most interesting designers are often the ones who draw connections between different fields rather than staying within the boundaries of design.

I would also encourage young designers to develop their own interests instead of following trends too closely. Trends come and go, but a genuine point of view can sustain an entire career. The things that make you different are often the things that make your work memorable.

Another important lesson is to embrace difficult projects. Growth rarely happens when everything goes according to plan. Some of the most valuable skills come from solving unexpected problems, working with limited resources, and learning from failure.

Most importantly, stay curious. Curiosity is what keeps a designer evolving over decades. Technical skills can be learned, software will change, and industries will evolve, but the ability to observe the world, ask questions, and continue learning is what allows a designer to create meaningful work throughout their career.

If I hope to leave any legacy at all, I hope it is not because people copied my work, but because they felt encouraged to develop their own voice.

I think a good designer can create effective solutions, while a great designer can change the way people see something.

Good designers possess strong technical skills, understand their craft, and are able to deliver successful projects. They know how to solve problems and communicate ideas clearly.

Great designers do all of those things, but they also bring a distinctive perspective. They are not simply responding to a brief; they are contributing new ways of thinking. Their work often remains memorable because it reflects a deeper understanding of culture, history, human behavior, or the world around them.

Another difference is that great designers continue to evolve. They do not become trapped by their own success, style, or reputation. Instead, they remain curious, take risks, and continue learning throughout their careers.

When I look at designers I admire, it is rarely their technical ability alone that stands out. What makes them exceptional is their ability to create work that feels personal, thoughtful, and impossible to confuse with anyone else's.

Ultimately, I think the difference between a good designer and a great designer is not talent. It is the ability to transform knowledge, experience, and curiosity into a unique point of view that leaves a lasting impact on others.

For me, a really good design is one in which nothing feels accidental.

When I evaluate a design, I usually ask three questions. First, does it have a clear idea? Second, does every element support that idea? Third, does it create a meaningful experience for its audience?

Many designs are visually attractive, but visual appeal alone is not enough. The designs that stay with us are usually those where concept, execution, and purpose are working together. When every decision—from form and proportion to material and detail—feels intentional, the design becomes much stronger.

I am also interested in whether a design reveals something beyond itself. The projects I admire most often teach us something about human behavior, culture, history, technology, or society. They make people think, feel, or look at something differently.

One common mistake is confusing complexity with quality. Adding more elements does not necessarily make a design better. In many cases, the strongest designs are the ones that communicate the most with the fewest unnecessary decisions.

The moment I know a design is truly successful is when I can no longer imagine removing or changing anything without weakening the idea. At that point, the design feels complete, coherent, and purposeful.

Good design creates value far beyond aesthetics. It influences how we interact with the world, how we understand information, and how we experience our daily lives.

I think the greatest value of design is that it helps people solve problems while creating meaningful experiences. Whether it is a building, a product, a costume, or a digital interface, good design makes things clearer, more effective, and often more enjoyable.

People sometimes view design as a luxury, but I see it as an investment. Poor design often leads to confusion, waste, inefficiency, or missed opportunities. Good design, on the other hand, can improve communication, strengthen identity, increase usability, and create lasting emotional connections.

As a costume designer, I have seen how design can influence the way an audience understands a character before a single word is spoken. In other fields, good design can shape behavior, build trust, and improve the quality of everyday experiences.

The best design is often invisible. People may not consciously notice it, but they feel its effects. It works so naturally that it becomes part of the experience itself.

For that reason, I believe everyone should invest in good design. Good design is not about making things look expensive; it is about making things work better, communicate more effectively, and contribute positively to people's lives.

If time and resources were unlimited, I would love to design a large-scale immersive world that combines costume, performance, installation, mythology, and technology.

I have always been fascinated by historical civilizations, folklore, ritual, and the ways people use symbols to construct meaning. Given the opportunity, I would create an experience where audiences do not simply observe a story but enter it. Costumes, environments, objects, sound, and performance would all work together to create a living world.

I would design it for people who are curious—people who enjoy discovering, exploring, and interpreting. Rather than presenting a single narrative, I would want audiences to experience different layers of history, mythology, and human imagination through interaction and observation.

I am especially interested in projects that blur the boundaries between theater, exhibition design, contemporary art, and costume. Many of my favorite works exist between disciplines, and I would like to push that even further in the future.

Ultimately, I am less interested in designing for a specific market and more interested in creating experiences that leave a lasting impression. The projects I dream about are the ones that encourage people to feel wonder, ask questions, and see familiar ideas from a completely different perspective.

The dream project I have not yet had the opportunity to realize is a large-scale fantasy production inspired by mythology, history, and cultural symbolism.

Throughout my career, I have worked on theater productions, films, exhibitions, and experimental projects, but I have not yet had the resources to fully build an entire world at the scale I imagine. I would love to design a project where costume, architecture, landscape, performance, sound, and technology are developed as one unified visual language.

What excites me most is the challenge of creating a complete civilization rather than designing individual characters. I am interested in questions such as: What do people wear? What symbols do they believe in? How do their rituals, social structures, and environments shape visual culture? These are the kinds of questions that inspire me as a designer.

I am particularly drawn to stories that combine mythology, folklore, history, and speculative imagination. Rather than creating a purely futuristic world, I would want to build one that feels ancient and new at the same time, drawing inspiration from different cultures and historical periods.

The reason this project remains unrealized is not a lack of ideas, but the scale of collaboration and resources it would require. However, I think every project I work on brings me a little closer to that goal. In many ways, my dream project is not a single production, but the opportunity to create an immersive world that audiences can truly step inside and explore.

If I had to identify a secret ingredient, it would be curiosity.

Talent is valuable, technical skills are important, and experience certainly helps, but curiosity is what keeps all of those things growing. It is the reason I continue to learn, explore, and challenge my own assumptions.

I think many designers spend their careers looking for inspiration within design itself. I prefer to look beyond it. History, mythology, museums, wildlife, travel, literature, and everyday observations have often influenced my work more than design trends. The ability to connect seemingly unrelated subjects is where many original ideas come from.

Another ingredient is persistence. Design projects rarely unfold exactly as planned. There are always limitations, revisions, unexpected problems, and moments of uncertainty. The ability to continue refining an idea without losing enthusiasm is just as important as having the idea in the first place.

I also believe in maintaining a beginner's mindset. No matter how much experience you gain, there is always more to learn. The moment a designer believes they already know everything is often the moment they stop growing.

So if there is a secret recipe, it is probably a combination of curiosity, persistence, and humility. Curiosity helps you discover, persistence helps you realize, and humility reminds you that there is always another question worth asking.

To be honest, I do not really think about design in terms of masters, legends, or idols.

Of course, there are many remarkable designers throughout history whose work I respect, but I have never been interested in following a single individual or building my career around someone else's vision. I think admiration can be valuable, but imitation can be limiting.

What inspires me more is the possibility of contributing something original. I would rather spend my time developing my own perspective than trying to become the next version of an existing designer.

In many ways, I am inspired by ideas rather than personalities. History inspires me. Mythology inspires me. Museums inspire me. Wildlife, travel, literature, and different cultures inspire me. I find inspiration in the world itself rather than in a particular designer.

If there is a goal I have for my career, it is not to find an idol—it is to create work that is memorable enough to inspire others one day. The designers who leave the greatest impact are usually those who stop following established paths and begin creating their own.

So rather than asking who my design hero is, I think a more accurate answer would be that I am interested in becoming the kind of designer whose work becomes part of the conversation for future generations.

I do not usually have favorite designs because of who created them. I am more interested in the ideas behind a work than the reputation of its creator.

The projects that stay with me are often those that completely transform the way I think about a subject. They might be a historical garment in a museum, a theatrical production, an installation artwork, or even a cultural object whose creator is unknown.

I am particularly drawn to works that combine strong symbolism, technical excellence, and emotional impact. I admire designs that reveal something about human nature, history, belief systems, or cultural identity. The best works often become more interesting the longer you spend with them.

As a costume designer, I am especially fascinated by historical garments. Some of my favorite designs were not created by famous designers at all, but by anonymous makers centuries ago. These objects continue to inspire me because they contain extraordinary craftsmanship, cultural meaning, and visual intelligence.

For that reason, I tend to admire ideas more than individuals. A powerful concept, an unexpected use of material, or a compelling visual world can inspire me regardless of whether the creator is famous or completely unknown.

Ultimately, what I appreciate most is originality. The designs that leave a lasting impression are the ones that feel impossible to confuse with anything else.

At this stage of my career, I would consider *Foam of Desire* to be my most significant design work.

What makes it important to me is not simply the final appearance, but the fact that it successfully brought together many of the ideas I care about most: history, symbolism, material experimentation, and storytelling.

The project was inspired by Sir Epicure Mammon from Ben Jonson's *The Alchemist*, a character associated with greed, excess, and desire. Rather than illustrating these themes literally, I wanted to translate them into form and material. Historical seventeenth-century silhouettes became distorted, enlarged, and transformed into something simultaneously beautiful and unsettling.

One aspect I am particularly proud of is the way the materials contributed to the concept. Through extensive experimentation, I developed translucent bubble-like structures that appeared luxurious from a distance but revealed a sense of instability and decay upon closer inspection. The visual language reflected the project's central theme: the seductive nature of excess and its inevitable deterioration.

I also believe the project represents an important point in my development because it moved beyond conventional costume design. The work exists somewhere between costume, sculpture, and installation. It challenged traditional boundaries and allowed me to explore how clothing can function as a conceptual artwork rather than simply a garment.

What ultimately makes a design great, in my view, is not its complexity or scale, but whether it communicates something meaningful. Foam of Desire remains my most important work because it successfully united concept, material, and form into a single coherent statement.

I think the best way to become a better designer is to become a more knowledgeable and observant person.

Many people focus on improving design skills alone, but some of the biggest improvements in my own work came from studying subjects outside of design. History, mythology, literature, museums, travel, wildlife, and different cultures have all influenced the way I think and create. The broader your understanding of the world, the richer your work becomes.

Another important habit is learning how to look carefully. Designers spend their lives observing. I pay attention to how people dress, how objects age, how animals adapt to their environments, how different cultures use symbols, and how historical artifacts communicate meaning. Good design often begins with good observation.

I also believe designers should make things, not just think about them. Some of the most valuable lessons I learned came from experimentation, failure, and working directly with materials. Ideas often change once they encounter reality, and those discoveries are an essential part of the process.

One thing I have done throughout my career is deliberately place myself in unfamiliar environments. Studying and working in different countries exposed me to new perspectives and challenged many of my assumptions. Growth often happens when you step outside of what feels comfortable.

Most importantly, stay curious. Technical skills can be taught, software can be learned, and trends will change. Curiosity is what keeps a designer evolving over an entire lifetime. The designers I admire most are not necessarily the most skilled—they are the ones who never stop learning.

If I had not become a designer, I think I would have pursued a career related to history, anthropology, or cultural research.

What has always interested me is understanding people—how they live, what they believe, how societies develop, and how cultures express themselves through objects, rituals, and symbols. Design became my way of exploring those questions, but I could easily imagine myself studying them from a different perspective.

I have also always been fascinated by museums, historical collections, and material culture. If I were not designing, I could see myself working as a curator, researcher, or writer focused on history and visual culture.

Another possibility would be something related to wildlife and conservation. I have a long-standing interest in animals and natural environments, and I am fascinated by the ways different species adapt and survive. Nature has influenced the way I think about form, structure, and design more than people might expect.

Looking back, however, all of these alternatives have something in common: curiosity. Whether through design, history, or conservation, I think I would still be searching for ways to better understand the world and the people who inhabit it.

So while the profession might have been different, the motivation would probably have remained the same.

For me, design is a way of understanding and interpreting the world.

Many people associate design with aesthetics, but I think it goes much deeper than appearance. Design is about making decisions—deciding what to emphasize, what to remove, what to communicate, and how people will experience an idea, object, or environment.

As a costume designer, I see design as a bridge between imagination and reality. It transforms abstract concepts, emotions, and stories into something tangible. Through design, invisible ideas become visible and can be shared with others.

I also think design is a form of inquiry. Every project begins with questions rather than answers. Who are these people? What do they value? What story is being told? What emotions should be felt? The design process is often a search for meaningful responses to those questions.

More broadly, design is one of the ways human beings leave traces of themselves in the world. Whether through architecture, clothing, objects, or artworks, design reflects what a society believes, fears, desires, and dreams about.

For me, design is not simply the act of creating something new. It is the process of giving form to ideas and creating connections between people, culture, and imagination.

I do not think success is ever the result of a single person. Throughout my journey, I have been fortunate to learn from many teachers, directors, collaborators, friends, and family members who supported me at different stages of my life.

That said, if I had to identify the biggest supporter, I would say it has been my family. They encouraged me to pursue a creative path even when it was not always the most conventional or predictable choice. Having that trust gave me the confidence to continue exploring and developing my work.

I am also grateful to the professors, mentors, and collaborators who challenged me rather than simply encouraging me. Some of the most important growth in my career came from people who pushed me to think more critically, work harder, and look beyond my initial ideas.

At the same time, I believe every designer eventually has to become their own biggest supporter. Creative careers involve uncertainty, rejection, and constant learning. There are many moments when no one else can tell you exactly where to go next. In those situations, self-belief, persistence, and curiosity become essential.

So while many people helped me along the way, the most important lesson I learned is that support can open doors, but it is your own determination that ultimately carries you through them.

I think what helped me most was not talent, but curiosity.

From an early stage, I was interested in subjects far beyond design itself. History, mythology, museums, travel, wildlife, literature, and different cultures all shaped the way I think. Over time, I realized that good design is often the result of connecting knowledge from different fields rather than focusing on design alone.

Another important factor was being willing to step outside my comfort zone. Studying and working in different countries exposed me to new perspectives, challenged my assumptions, and taught me to see the same subject from multiple viewpoints. Those experiences influenced my work as much as any formal training.

I also benefited from learning how to balance imagination with discipline. Creative ideas are important, but ideas alone are not enough. Research, persistence, technical skills, and the ability to complete projects are what transform ideas into reality.

Most importantly, I never lost the desire to keep learning. Every project teaches me something I did not know before. The more experience I gain, the more I realize how much there is still to discover.

If there is one thing that helped me grow as a designer, it is that I never treated design as a destination. I have always treated it as a continuous process of exploration, and I think that mindset has shaped my work more than anything else.

I would not describe myself as a design master yet. I still see myself as someone who is continuously learning and expanding my practice.

One of the biggest challenges has been scale. I often have ideas that are larger than the time, budget, or resources available to realize them. Learning how to adapt ambitious concepts to real-world conditions has been an important part of my development as a designer.

Another challenge has been working across different disciplines and cultural environments. My projects have ranged from theater and film to exhibitions and experimental work, often requiring different creative approaches and ways of communicating. Moving between these worlds taught me flexibility and helped me develop a broader understanding of design.

I have also learned that design is not only about creating ideas. It is about managing time, collaborating with people, solving unexpected problems, and making decisions under pressure. Every project presents different constraints, and finding opportunities within those constraints is part of the profession.

Looking back, I do not think the biggest obstacle was a lack of confidence. It was learning how to transform increasingly ambitious ideas into reality. In many ways, that remains the challenge that continues to motivate me today.

I think designers should present their work as a story rather than simply a collection of images.

Many people focus on showing the final result, but I am often more interested in understanding how a project developed. The research, experiments, failures, revisions, and decisions behind a design can be just as important as the finished outcome.

A strong presentation should help people understand not only what was created, but why it was created. Whether through sketches, prototypes, material tests, references, or documentation, the audience should be able to follow the designer's thinking process.

I also believe presentations should be tailored to the project itself. A historical costume project, a film production, and an experimental installation may require completely different ways of communicating. There is no single format that works for everything.

One mistake I often see is presenting work only through polished images. Beautiful photographs are important, but they rarely tell the full story. The most memorable presentations usually reveal the ideas, questions, and discoveries that shaped the project.

Ultimately, I think the goal of presenting design is not to impress people. It is to help them understand how the work came into existence and why it matters.

One project I am particularly excited about is continuing to explore the intersection of costume, contemporary art, and immersive storytelling.

In the near future, audiences can expect to see more work that moves beyond traditional costume design and engages with larger questions about identity, mythology, history, and the relationship between the body and its environment. I am increasingly interested in creating projects where costume functions not only as something worn by a performer, but also as an artistic medium in its own right.

I am also developing projects that explore speculative futures and world-building. Whether inspired by historical civilizations or imagined societies, I enjoy creating visual systems that help audiences step into unfamiliar worlds and experiences.

More broadly, I hope my future work will become increasingly interdisciplinary. I am interested in collaborations that bring together performance, installation, sculpture, technology, and costume design. The projects that excite me most are those that cannot be easily categorized into a single field.

If there is one thing people can expect from me, it is that I will continue pushing beyond conventional boundaries. I am always looking for new ways to combine research, craftsmanship, and imagination to create work that is visually distinctive and intellectually engaging.

My ultimate goal is not simply to create beautiful designs, but to create work that leaves a lasting impact.

I want to contribute something original to the fields of costume, performance, and visual culture—something that expands how people think about the relationship between clothing, identity, history, and the human body.

In the long term, I hope to develop projects that operate at a larger scale and across multiple disciplines. I am interested in creating immersive worlds where costume, sculpture, installation, performance, and storytelling become part of a single experience. Those kinds of projects allow me to combine many of the subjects that fascinate me most, including mythology, history, symbolism, and cultural memory.

I would also like to help elevate the perception of costume design. Too often costume is viewed as a supporting element, but I believe it can function as an independent artistic medium capable of communicating complex ideas and emotions.

If I think about legacy, my goal is not to become famous. My goal is to create work that remains meaningful after it is seen. I would like to be remembered as someone who approached design with imagination, intellectual curiosity, and a willingness to challenge conventional boundaries.

Ultimately, success for me would be creating projects that people remember years later—not because they were fashionable or spectacular, but because they changed the way people saw something.

I think people should expect curiosity, originality, and a strong point of view.

As designers gain experience, there is often an expectation that they will continue producing successful work. While that is important, I believe the more meaningful expectation is that they continue evolving rather than repeating themselves.

Personally, I hope people expect me to challenge conventions, explore unfamiliar territory, and bring together ideas from different fields. I am less interested in creating the same project repeatedly and more interested in discovering new ways of thinking through design.

I also think people should expect responsibility. Designers influence how people see, experience, and understand the world. With that influence comes the responsibility to approach projects thoughtfully and contribute something meaningful rather than simply creating visual novelty.

Ultimately, I hope people expect authenticity from my work. Trends change, technologies evolve, and industries transform, but a designer's perspective is what makes their work distinctive. If people come to expect anything from me, I hope it is a willingness to remain curious, continue learning, and consistently pursue original ideas.

I believe design helps create a better society because people need more than functionality. They also need beauty, culture, imagination, and meaningful experiences.

Good design enriches everyday life. It influences how people interact with objects, environments, stories, and one another. Thoughtful design can make life more enjoyable, more understandable, and more emotionally engaging.

As a costume designer, I see another important role of design: helping people believe in a story. Audiences understand a character not only through dialogue, but also through visual cues. Costume helps establish time, place, culture, personality, and social context. It allows audiences to enter a world and accept it as real.

Whether in theater, film, or other forms of design, visual details help create trust between the audience and the story. When design is successful, people stop questioning the world they are looking at and begin focusing on the experience itself.

More broadly, I think design encourages people to pay attention. It helps us appreciate craftsmanship, culture, history, and the richness of human creativity. A society without design would still function, but it would lose much of its beauty, emotion, and imagination.

For that reason, I believe design is not a luxury. It is one of the ways people create meaning, communicate ideas, and make the world more engaging and inspiring.

At the moment, I am especially excited about a science-fiction short film project called *The Book Killers*.

What interests me most about this project is the opportunity to build a future world through costume. Rather than focusing only on individual characters, I am thinking about how clothing can communicate social structures, technology, power, and everyday life within an imagined society.

I am also continuing to develop work that explores the relationship between costume, contemporary art, and material experimentation. In recent years, I have become increasingly interested in treating costume as more than a performance object—as something that can also function as sculpture, installation, and visual storytelling.

More broadly, I am excited about projects that allow me to move between different worlds. One project may be inspired by historical dress and mythology, while another explores speculative futures. That contrast keeps the work engaging and constantly pushes me to learn new things.

Looking ahead, I hope to continue expanding the scale of my projects and creating work that combines research, craftsmanship, and imagination in new ways. Those are the projects that excite me most and the direction I see my practice developing in the future.

The projects that have given me the most satisfaction are usually the ones that challenged me to do something I had never done before.

One example is *Foam of Desire*, because it allowed me to combine historical costume research, material experimentation, and conceptual storytelling in a single work. The project pushed me beyond conventional costume design and into the territory of sculpture and contemporary art. I spent a significant amount of time developing the materials and construction methods, and seeing the final piece successfully communicate the ideas I had imagined was extremely rewarding.

I have also found great satisfaction in projects that involve world-building, particularly in theater and film. What I enjoy most is not simply designing clothing, but helping create a believable reality for audiences. When a costume helps people understand a character, a culture, or an entire fictional world, I feel that the design has achieved something meaningful.

Interestingly, the most satisfying projects are not always the largest or most recognized ones. They are often the projects where I learned the most, took the greatest creative risks, or discovered a new direction for my work.

Looking back, the common thread is growth. The projects that remain most memorable are the ones that expanded my understanding of what design could be and challenged me to become a better designer than I was before.

One change I would like to see is a broader understanding of what design can be.

In many industries, design is still judged primarily by appearance, trends, or commercial value. While those aspects are important, I believe design can also contribute to culture, education, research, and social dialogue. I would like to see more support for projects that explore ideas, ask questions, and take creative risks.

I would also like to see stronger connections between different disciplines. Some of the most exciting work today happens at the intersection of design, art, technology, science, performance, and cultural research. As traditional boundaries become less rigid, designers have more opportunities to create new forms of experience and expression.

Another area that deserves greater attention is sustainability. Rather than focusing only on producing more, I think the industry should place greater emphasis on longevity, adaptability, material responsibility, and thoughtful production methods. Designers have an opportunity to influence how resources are used and how people think about consumption.

Finally, I hope the industry continues to value originality over trends. Trends will always exist, but the projects that have the greatest long-term impact are usually the ones that introduce new perspectives rather than follow existing ones.

Overall, I would like to see a design industry that is more experimental, more interdisciplinary, more environmentally conscious, and more willing to support ambitious ideas that may not fit into established categories.

I think the design field is moving toward greater integration between disciplines.

The traditional boundaries between design, art, technology, performance, research, and even science are becoming increasingly blurred. Designers are no longer creating isolated objects; they are creating experiences, systems, environments, and narratives that connect multiple fields.

I also believe audiences are becoming more interested in meaning rather than novelty alone. People increasingly want to know where things come from, what they represent, and why they exist. As a result, research, cultural context, and storytelling may become even more important in the future.

Technology will certainly continue to transform the profession. Artificial intelligence, digital fabrication, virtual environments, and new materials will provide designers with tools that were unimaginable a generation ago. However, I do not think technology will replace creativity. Instead, it will change how ideas are developed and realized.

In my own field, I expect costume design to become increasingly interdisciplinary. We are already seeing projects that combine wearable technology, immersive environments, interactive performance, and digital media. The distinction between costume, fashion, sculpture, and installation will likely become less defined.

Most importantly, I think the future belongs to designers who can connect different worlds. The ability to combine history with innovation, craftsmanship with technology, and local cultures with global perspectives will become increasingly valuable.

For that reason, I do not think the future of design is about specialization alone. It is about building meaningful connections between ideas, disciplines, and people.

The timeline depends entirely on the scale and nature of the project.

Some projects can be developed within a few weeks, while others may take several months from the initial concept to the final realization. In costume design, the process often includes research, concept development, sketching, sourcing, fittings, revisions, fabrication, and final adjustments, so the timeline can vary significantly.

For a film or theater production, I usually begin working long before audiences see the final result. A great deal of time is spent understanding the story, developing characters, and solving practical challenges behind the scenes.

That said, I do not think design is ever truly "finished." There is almost always another detail that could be refined or another direction that could be explored. The real challenge is knowing when the project has successfully achieved its goals and when additional changes no longer improve the work.

For me, a design is finalized when the concept, execution, and purpose are aligned. At that point, continuing to change it would not necessarily make it better—it would simply make it different.

In professional practice, deadlines are also an important part of the process. A designer must learn how to balance perfection with completion. The goal is not to create a perfect design, but to create the strongest possible design within the time available.

When I begin a new project, I rarely start with sketching. I usually start with questions.

I want to understand what the project is really about before thinking about how it should look. Whether I am working on a film, a theatrical production, or an exhibition, I begin by identifying the themes, characters, historical context, and emotional atmosphere of the work.

After that, I collect references from a wide range of sources. These might include historical images, museum collections, literature, mythology, films, photographs, natural forms, or cultural artifacts. At this stage, I am not searching for solutions yet—I am gathering information and looking for unexpected connections.

One of my favorite parts of the process is creating physical collages. I often print, cut, arrange, and combine images by hand. This helps me discover visual relationships that I might not notice on a screen and allows ideas to develop more organically.

Only after I have built a strong visual and conceptual foundation do I begin sketching, experimenting with materials, or developing prototypes. I prefer to let the project reveal its direction gradually rather than forcing a solution too early.

For me, the beginning of a design project is less about creating and more about understanding. The better I understand the world of the project, the stronger the final design usually becomes.

My life motto as a designer is simple: **Stay curious, and keep exploring.**

I believe the best design comes from asking questions rather than assuming you already have the answers. Curiosity has taken me to different countries, different disciplines, different historical periods, and different ways of thinking. It continues to shape every project I undertake.

I am also guided by the belief that every design decision should have a reason. Whether I am choosing a material, a silhouette, or a visual detail, I want it to contribute something meaningful to the overall idea.

At the same time, I try not to repeat myself. Every project is an opportunity to learn something new, challenge my assumptions, and push beyond what I have done before. Growth is more important to me than comfort.

If I had to summarize my philosophy in one sentence, it would be this:

Never stop learning, never stop questioning, and never stop imagining what could exist next.**

I think truly influential design sets trends, while most design follows them.

Trends are often a reflection of what has already gained attention. By the time something becomes a trend, it is usually because a designer, artist, or creative movement introduced a new idea that resonated with people. In that sense, original design comes first and trends follow.

At the same time, trends can be useful because they reveal what a society is interested in at a particular moment. They reflect changing values, technologies, aesthetics, and cultural conversations. Understanding trends can help designers better understand the world they are designing for.

However, I do not believe designers should chase trends too aggressively. Trends are temporary by nature. If a designer focuses only on what is popular, their work may become outdated as quickly as the trend itself.

The projects that interest me most are usually those that feel independent of trends. Historical garments created hundreds of years ago, ancient cultural artifacts, or powerful works of contemporary art continue to be relevant because they communicate ideas that go beyond a particular moment in time.

So if I had to choose, I would say that great design creates trends rather than follows them. The most memorable designers are often the ones who introduce new ways of seeing the world, and only later do those ideas become trends.

Technology is a tool, not a starting point.

I use technology throughout the design process for research, visual development, communication, and presentation. Digital tools allow me to organize references, create presentations, edit images, and collaborate efficiently with people working in different locations.

However, I do not believe technology generates ideas. The concept still comes from observation, imagination, research, and human experience. Technology helps me develop and realize those ideas more effectively, but it does not replace creative thinking.

In my own practice, I often combine digital and physical methods. I may use software to organize visual research or develop presentations, but I also create hand-made collages, experiment with materials, drape fabrics, and build physical prototypes. Many important discoveries happen when working directly with materials rather than on a screen.

I am excited by new technologies, especially when they open possibilities that did not previously exist. At the same time, I think craftsmanship, critical thinking, and originality remain far more important than any particular software or tool.

The role of technology is to expand what designers can achieve. The role of the designer is to decide why those possibilities matter.

My toolkit combines both digital and hands-on methods, because I believe design benefits from moving between the screen and the physical world.

For digital work, I primarily use Adobe Photoshop, Illustrator, and InDesign for visual research, presentations, concept development, and project documentation. These tools help me organize ideas and communicate them clearly to collaborators.

However, a large part of my process still happens away from the computer. I frequently create hand-made collages, print and assemble visual references, sketch ideas, drape fabric directly on forms, and build physical mock-ups. I often discover more through making and experimentation than through digital rendering alone.

My studio equipment is fairly straightforward: sketchbooks, printers, cutting tools, sewing machines, dress forms, fabric samples, and material-testing supplies. I am often more interested in testing a material with my hands than creating a perfect digital image of it.

Books are also an important part of my toolbox. Historical costume references, museum archives, pattern books, art publications, mythology, and cultural history texts all play a significant role in my design process.

Ultimately, I see software and equipment as tools rather than sources of creativity. The most important tools remain observation, curiosity, and the ability to connect ideas from different fields.

My toolkit combines both digital and physical methods, and I use different tools depending on the needs of a project.

For digital work, I frequently use Adobe Photoshop for image editing, visual development, and presentations; Adobe Illustrator for technical drawings and graphic layouts; and Procreate for sketching and concept development. When working on interactive or technology-based projects, I also use Arduino IDE to experiment with electronics, sensors, and responsive systems.

At the same time, a large part of my process remains hands-on. I regularly work with fabrics, sewing equipment, pattern-making tools, dress forms, and material samples. I also create physical collages, mock-ups, and prototypes to explore ideas in three dimensions.

Beyond software and equipment, books and archives are equally important tools in my practice. Historical garment collections, museum databases, costume history publications, and visual research materials are resources I use constantly throughout the design process.

I see technology as an extension of the creative process rather than a replacement for it. The most important tools are not necessarily the newest ones, but the ones that help transform ideas into meaningful and well-crafted work.

I wish people would ask less about how a design looks and more about why it exists.

Many conversations about design focus on aesthetics, materials, or techniques, which are important. But what interests me most are the ideas behind a project. Why was it created? What questions is it asking? What does it reveal about people, culture, history, or society?

I am especially interested when people ask about the research, symbolism, and thought process behind a design. Those conversations often lead to deeper discussions about storytelling, human behavior, mythology, identity, and the meanings that objects can carry.

As a costume designer, I also enjoy when people ask about the relationship between a design and a character. Clothing can communicate far more than appearance—it can reveal beliefs, desires, fears, social status, and entire cultural systems.

Ultimately, the question I find most interesting is not "How did you make this?" but "Why did you make this?" That is usually where the most meaningful conversations begin.

When I encounter a great design, my first reaction is usually curiosity.

Instead of asking, "Do I like it?" I often ask, "Why does it work so well?" I become interested in the thinking behind it—the decisions, constraints, references, and ideas that led to the final result.

The designs that impress me most are rarely the ones that are simply beautiful. They are the ones that make me pause and see something differently. They might reveal an unexpected perspective, solve a problem in an elegant way, or communicate a complex idea with remarkable clarity.

I am also fascinated by the moment when a design feels inevitable, as if it could not have existed in any other form. When every detail supports the same idea and nothing feels unnecessary, I know I am looking at something special.

As a designer, I often find myself mentally taking a project apart and putting it back together again. I want to understand how it was constructed, what influenced it, and what makes it memorable.

The highest compliment I can give a design is not that it is beautiful, but that it is intelligent. Those are the works that stay in my mind long after I have seen them.

I absolutely believe in collaboration, but I do not believe in collaboration for its own sake.

My ideal design partner is someone who brings a different perspective from my own. I am not looking for someone who thinks exactly like me; I am looking for someone who can challenge ideas, ask difficult questions, and contribute knowledge that I do not have.

The most successful collaborations I have experienced were built on mutual respect, curiosity, and trust. Everyone involved was confident enough to contribute their own expertise, but also open enough to listen to others. That balance is very important.

Because much of my work involves storytelling and world-building, I especially enjoy collaborating with directors, writers, performers, artists, and designers from other disciplines. Some of the most interesting ideas emerge when different fields intersect.

At the same time, I think collaboration works best when each person has a strong individual voice. Co-design should not mean compromising every idea until they become average. It should mean combining distinct perspectives to create something that none of the collaborators could have achieved alone.

So yes, I strongly believe in co-design. Not because it makes projects easier, but because it makes them richer, more complex, and often more surprising.

The people who have influenced my design the most are not necessarily famous designers, artists, or industry figures. In many cases, they are ordinary people I have met throughout my life.

As a costume designer, I spend a great deal of time observing people. A person's habits, posture, way of speaking, personal objects, clothing choices, and life experiences can reveal an incredible amount about who they are. These observations often become more valuable to me than any trend forecast or design theory.

I have been influenced by people from many different backgrounds—shop owners, travelers, craftspeople, performers, museum staff, farmers, drivers, students, and people I happened to meet while traveling. Every person carries a unique story, and those stories have helped me better understand human behavior and identity.

Because my work is ultimately about people, I think ordinary individuals are some of the greatest sources of inspiration. Historical figures may inspire ideas, but everyday people remind me how those ideas exist in real life.

If I had to name the group that has influenced my work the most, it would simply be people themselves. The more lives, cultures, and perspectives I encounter, the richer my work becomes.

Among the writers who have influenced me most, Albert Camus has had a particularly lasting impact.

What I appreciate about Camus is not only his philosophy, but also the questions he asks about meaning, freedom, identity, and the human condition. His work explores how people create purpose in an uncertain world, and I think those questions are relevant to design as well as literature.

Books such as *The Stranger* and *The Myth of Sisyphus* encouraged me to think more deeply about human behavior and the tension between individual desire and the larger forces that shape our lives. While these ideas do not appear literally in my designs, they influence the way I approach characters, narratives, and visual storytelling.

Beyond Camus, I am often drawn to books about history, mythology, cultural traditions, and material culture. These subjects provide a rich source of ideas because they reveal how different societies understand identity, power, belief, beauty, and mortality.

Rather than looking to books for visual inspiration, I look to them for questions. The works that influence me most are the ones that change the way I think, because those changes eventually find their way into my design practice.

I would not describe myself as a master designer. I still see design as a lifelong process of learning.

That said, I developed my skills through a combination of practice, observation, and experience. Every project taught me something different. Some projects improved my technical abilities, while others taught me how to communicate ideas, collaborate with teams, or solve unexpected problems under pressure.

One habit that helped me significantly was looking beyond design itself. I spent as much time studying history, culture, literature, museums, and human behavior as I did studying design. Those subjects expanded the way I think and gave me a broader range of references and ideas.

I also learned by making things. No amount of theory can replace the lessons that come from experimentation. Working with materials, building prototypes, testing ideas, and sometimes failing taught me far more than simply reading about design.

Another important part of my development came from working in different countries and creative environments. Being exposed to different perspectives forced me to adapt, question assumptions, and continuously refine my approach.

Looking back, I do not think there was a single breakthrough moment. My skills developed gradually through thousands of small decisions, observations, experiments, and projects. The most important thing was simply continuing to learn and remaining curious about the world around me.

If time and space were no limitation, I would not choose to meet a designer first.

I would probably choose to speak with people who changed the way humanity understands itself. Philosophers, explorers, writers, historians, scientists, and mythmakers interest me as much as artists do. Someone like Albert Camus would certainly be high on that list because I would love to discuss meaning, freedom, creativity, and how individuals create purpose in an uncertain world.

I would also be fascinated by conversations with people whose names history never recorded. Ordinary individuals from different civilizations, cultures, and time periods. What did they fear? What did they hope for? How did they understand beauty, belief, or identity? As a designer, I am deeply interested in people, and some of the most important stories have never been written down.

More than receiving answers, I would want to ask questions. I would want to understand how different people interpreted the world around them and how those interpretations shaped culture, art, and society.

In many ways, my ideal conversation would not be with a single famous individual. It would be a table where philosophers, storytellers, travelers, craftspeople, and ordinary people from different eras could sit together and exchange ideas. I think that conversation would teach me more about humanity—and therefore more about design—than any individual master ever could.

I am grateful for awards and recognition, but I do not see them as the ultimate goal of design.

Awards are valuable because they help projects reach wider audiences and create opportunities for dialogue. They can introduce your work to people who might never have encountered it otherwise, and that exposure can lead to new collaborations and experiences.

At the same time, I think recognition is a byproduct of good work rather than something that should be pursued for its own sake. The most important question for me has always been whether a project successfully communicates its ideas, not how many awards it receives.

As for fame, I do not think of myself as famous. Design is a field where there is always more to learn, more to create, and more to explore. Recognition may come and go, but the work remains.

What matters most to me is not whether people know my name today. What matters is whether the work has enough originality and substance to remain meaningful in the future. If people remember my projects years after seeing them, that would be far more rewarding than temporary recognition.

So while I appreciate awards and recognition, I see them as milestones rather than destinations. The real motivation is always the next project and the next idea waiting to be explored.

My favorite color is green, especially shades ranging from light green to deep forest green. This preference does not have a particular symbolic meaning—I simply find green visually appealing. Interestingly, this preference appears throughout my life, from the clothes I wear to the furniture I choose. Even my hair has been fluorescent green at one point.

My favorite places are usually locations that feel untouched and connected to history. I am especially drawn to places where natural landscapes and human heritage coexist—ancient ruins, archaeological sites, remote historical locations, and regions that still retain a strong sense of cultural identity.

When it comes to food, I am quite open-minded. I appreciate food that tastes good, but I am also attracted to beautiful presentation. For me, eating can be both a sensory and visual experience.

My favorite season is autumn. I enjoy its atmosphere, colors, and sense of transition. There is something reflective and timeless about autumn that I find inspiring.

One of my favorite activities is reading. Books have influenced my thinking in many ways and continue to be one of my primary sources of learning, discovery, and inspiration.

As for brands, I do not have a particular favorite. I am generally more interested in ideas, craftsmanship, and quality than in brand names themselves.

One of the funniest moments I experienced as a costume designer happened during a production when I was urgently searching for a very specific costume piece. I spent hours researching references, contacting suppliers, comparing options, and trying to find the perfect solution. After all that effort, the director looked at the final result and said, "Actually, I think the simpler version looked better."

At first, I was slightly frustrated because I had spent so much time solving the problem. But later I found it funny because it reminded me that design is not always about complexity. Sometimes the best solution is the one that was right in front of you from the beginning.

Another thing that still makes me laugh is how often costume designers become unexpected experts in completely random subjects. On one project, I might spend days researching seventeenth-century aristocratic clothing. On another, I am suddenly learning about military equipment, obscure fabrics, animal symbolism, or futuristic technology. My internet search history probably looks very confusing to anyone who sees it.

One of the things I enjoy most about this profession is that every project introduces me to a world I knew nothing about before. Sometimes the research is so unusual that I have to stop and laugh at the fact that this has somehow become part of my job.

That unpredictability is one of the reasons I still enjoy design so much. Every project is different, and you never quite know what strange subject you will become an expert in next.

What makes a day great for me is discovering something unexpected.

It could be finding a historical image I have never seen before, solving a difficult design problem, discovering an unusual material, or seeing an idea suddenly come together after weeks of development. Those moments of discovery are often the most rewarding part of the process.

I also enjoy seeing progress. Design projects can be complex and take a long time to complete, so there is a special satisfaction in seeing something move from an abstract idea to a physical reality. Whether it is a fitting, a completed costume, or a successful experiment, those small milestones make a day feel productive.

As for motivation, I do not rely on motivation very much. Curiosity is usually enough. There is always another story to explore, another historical period to learn about, another technique to test, or another question to answer. That natural interest keeps me moving forward even when a project becomes challenging.

I think one reason I continue to enjoy design is that it never becomes repetitive. Every project introduces new people, new worlds, and new problems to solve. The moment I feel I understand something completely, I usually find a new subject that reminds me how much there is still left to discover.

Looking back, there were probably some early signs.

As a child, I was fascinated by fashion, history, and theater. At the time, I did not know that costume design could combine all three, but those interests were already present. I loved learning about different historical periods, imagining stories and characters, and paying attention to how people expressed themselves through clothing and appearance.

What seems obvious now is that I was always drawn to worlds beyond my own. Whether through books, museums, films, or historical subjects, I enjoyed exploring different times, cultures, and ways of life. Design eventually became the place where all of those interests came together.

That said, I do not think anyone could have predicted exactly what I would become. The specific path was not obvious. What was obvious was curiosity. I was constantly asking questions, collecting information, and becoming interested in subjects that seemed unrelated to one another.

In hindsight, costume design feels like a natural destination because it sits at the intersection of fashion, history, storytelling, and visual culture. The interests I had as a child did not change very much—they simply found a profession where they could exist together.

I believe technology will become increasingly integrated into everyday life and creative practice.

We are already witnessing rapid changes through artificial intelligence, digital environments, biotechnology, and advanced materials. These developments will likely continue to transform how people communicate, create, learn, and experience the world.

Personally, I have a complicated relationship with AI. I do not see it as a replacement for human creativity, and I am cautious about the ways it may affect culture, authorship, and artistic expression. However, I also recognize that technological change is part of history. Whether we like it or not, new technologies eventually become part of everyday life, and society learns how to adapt to them.

What interests me is not the technology itself, but how people respond to it. Throughout history, human beings have continuously redefined themselves in response to new tools and new realities. I think the future will involve finding a balance between technological advancement and the human need for culture, imagination, emotion, and meaning.

A thousand years from now, technologies may be unrecognizable to us, but I suspect people will still tell stories, create symbols, seek beauty, and ask the same fundamental questions about identity, purpose, and existence. The tools may change, but human curiosity will remain.

For that reason, I do not think the future belongs entirely to technology. I think it belongs to those who can combine technology with humanity, creativity, and culture in meaningful ways.

If there is one thing I would like people to know about me, it is that my work is driven by curiosity more than certainty.

Many people see the finished costume, artwork, or project, but what interests me most is the process of asking questions. Why do people create myths? Why do certain symbols survive for centuries? Why are we attracted to beauty, power, ritual, or transformation? My designs are often attempts to explore those questions rather than provide answers.

I also hope people understand that my work is not only about clothing. Costume is simply the medium I use. What I am really interested in are people—their stories, desires, fears, identities, and the worlds they create around themselves.

Outside of design, I am someone who loves history, books, wildlife, travel, museums, and discovering unfamiliar places. I am happiest when learning something new, whether it comes from an ancient artifact, a remote landscape, or a conversation with a stranger.

As for the future, I hope my work continues to evolve. I never want to become comfortable repeating the same ideas. Every project should take me somewhere I have not been before.

If people remember anything about my work, I hope it is not a particular style, color, or silhouette. I hope they remember a sense of imagination—the feeling that there are always more stories to discover and more worlds waiting to be explored.

My background is in costume design for theater, film, and performance. I completed my BA in Costume Design for Theatre and Screen at Wimbledon College of Arts in London, and I am currently pursuing an MFA in Costume Design at California Institute of the Arts (CalArts) in Los Angeles. During my studies, I have worked on theater productions, short films, exhibitions, and interdisciplinary performance projects.

I did not decide to become a designer at a very young age. My interest developed gradually through my experience with art, storytelling, and visual culture. What attracted me most was the way costume can communicate identity, emotion, and social context without words. I realized that clothing is not only something people wear, but also a powerful medium for narrative expression.

Over time, I became increasingly interested in how costume connects the body, performance, memory, and culture. This curiosity motivated me to continue studying and creating in the field. Today, my work often explores themes related to identity, femininity, emotion, and the relationship between the body and its environment.

currently work as an independent costume designer rather than operating a formal company or design studio. My practice is project-based and focuses on theater productions, film projects, exhibitions, and interdisciplinary collaborations.

As an independent designer, I work closely with directors, performers, artists, and creative teams to develop visual concepts through costume. My work combines research, storytelling, material exploration, and character development, with each project requiring a different creative approach.

This flexible working model allows me to collaborate across different artistic fields and experiment with a wide range of ideas, from traditional theatrical costume design to contemporary performance and visual art projects.

For me, design is a way of thinking and communicating. It is not only about creating something visually appealing, but also about solving problems, telling stories, and building connections between people and ideas.

As a costume designer, I see design as a process of translating emotions, identities, and narratives into visual and material forms. Every design decision, from silhouette and color to fabric and texture, carries meaning and contributes to the overall experience.

I believe good design creates dialogue. It helps people understand a story, feel an emotion, or see a familiar subject from a different perspective. Ultimately, design is a bridge between concept and experience, turning abstract ideas into something tangible and meaningful.

I am especially drawn to fantasy and historical projects. These genres offer rich visual possibilities and allow me to explore different cultures, time periods, and imaginative worlds through costume design.

I enjoy historical works because they require extensive research and attention to detail. Studying clothing, social customs, and cultural contexts from different eras helps me create designs that support both storytelling and character development.

Fantasy projects are equally exciting because they provide greater creative freedom. They allow me to combine historical references, symbolism, and original ideas to build unique visual identities for characters and fictional worlds.

Whether historical or fantasy-based, I am most interested in projects that have strong narratives, complex characters, and visually immersive environments.

One of my favorite projects is Foam of Desire, a costume design inspired by Sir Epicure Mammon from Ben Jonson’s The Alchemist. Mammon represents greed, excess, and the endless pursuit of wealth, and I wanted to translate these ideas into a physical form through costume.

The structure of the costume is based on seventeenth-century European aristocratic menswear. I researched historical patterns from Janet Arnold’s Patterns of Fashion and retained key elements such as the doublet, trunk hose, and ruff collar. Rather than reproducing the historical garment, I reinterpreted these forms using contemporary materials and sculptural techniques.

A key part of the project was experimenting with a special fabric that becomes sticky when wet and can be shaped by hand. Once dry, it holds its form permanently. By trapping foam and air inside the material, I created irregular bubble-like structures that appear translucent and partially hardened. This process produced surfaces that feel both luxurious and decaying at the same time.

I deliberately exaggerated the proportions of the doublet, especially around the chest and shoulders, creating an inflated silhouette that symbolizes desire expanding beyond the limits of the body. The ruff collar was transformed into an asymmetrical sculptural form that surrounds the wearer, suggesting a figure consumed by wealth and vanity. As a result, the work exists somewhere between costume and soft sculpture.

Conceptually, the project explores what I call “the beauty of excess.” The bright colors and playful forms initially attract the viewer, but a closer look reveals a sense of discomfort. The swollen bubble-like structures suggest accumulation, decay, and emptiness hidden beneath luxury. Through this contrast, I wanted to visualize how desire can become both seductive and destructive.

This project remains one of my favorites because it combines historical research, material experimentation, and character-driven storytelling, which are three aspects of design that I care about most.

One of the first professional projects I designed for a company was the costume design for a commercial promoting a bird feeder product.

Although the project was much smaller in scale than a theater production, it taught me an important lesson about commercial design. The goal was not to make the costumes the center of attention, but to support the visual story while keeping the focus on the product itself.

I developed costumes that matched the natural and friendly atmosphere of the advertisement, using colors and styling that complemented the setting without competing with the bird feeder. Every design decision was made to create a cohesive visual environment while ensuring that the product remained the main focal point.

This experience helped me understand the balance between creativity and communication. In commercial work, successful design is not always about being the most noticeable element; sometimes it is about enhancing the overall image and helping the audience connect with the product more effectively.

One of my favorite aspects of design is experimenting with unconventional materials and combining traditional costume-making techniques with contemporary material research.

Rather than having a single favorite material, I am particularly interested in materials that can change shape, texture, or structure during the making process. I enjoy working with fabrics, foam, thermoplastic materials, and experimental textiles because they allow me to create forms that go beyond the natural shape of the body.

From a technical perspective, I am especially interested in draping and sculptural construction. I like developing three-dimensional forms directly on the mannequin, allowing the material itself to influence the final design. This approach often leads to unexpected results and helps me create costumes that exist somewhere between fashion, costume, and sculpture.

I am also interested in exploring how traditional craftsmanship can interact with new technologies and materials. For me, the most exciting designs emerge when historical references, hand-making techniques, and material experimentation come together in a single project.

I usually feel most creative during the research and experimentation stage of a project. Once I have a strong concept, I enjoy collecting references, studying historical materials, sketching ideas, and testing different materials to see how they behave.

I often find that creativity comes from making connections between things that seem unrelated at first. For example, a historical garment, a piece of literature, a sculpture, or even a natural texture can inspire a new design direction.

I also tend to be most creative when I am physically making something rather than simply thinking about it. Working directly with materials allows unexpected ideas to emerge, and many of my favorite design solutions have come from experimentation rather than careful planning.

For me, creativity is not a sudden moment of inspiration. It usually develops through research, observation, and the process of making.

As a costume designer, I usually focus on three aspects: storytelling, silhouette, and materiality.

Storytelling is always the starting point for me. Before thinking about aesthetics, I want to understand who the character is, what they desire, and how the costume can communicate that information visually. Every design decision should support the narrative.

I also pay close attention to silhouette because it is often the first thing an audience notices. A strong silhouette can immediately establish a character’s identity, status, personality, or emotional state, even from a distance.

The third aspect is materiality. I am very interested in how fabrics and materials behave, how they interact with light, and how texture can influence the audience’s perception. Material choices are not only technical decisions but also conceptual ones, as they can carry symbolic meaning and contribute to the overall atmosphere of the work.

When these three elements, storytelling, form, and material, work together, the design becomes much more than clothing; it becomes part of the narrative itself.

Designing is a mixture of curiosity, excitement, and sometimes uncertainty for me.

At the beginning of a project, I usually feel curious. I enjoy researching, asking questions, and discovering new ways to understand a character, story, or concept. This stage is often the most open and exploratory.

As ideas start to take shape, I feel excited because I can see the concept becoming something tangible. Whether through sketches, draping, or material experiments, there is a special moment when an abstract idea begins to exist in the physical world.

At the same time, I think uncertainty is also an important part of the creative process. Not every experiment works, and sometimes the most interesting results come from mistakes or unexpected discoveries. I have learned to embrace that uncertainty rather than avoid it.

Ultimately, the strongest feeling is satisfaction when all the elements finally come together and the design communicates what I intended. Seeing a performer inhabit the costume or watching an audience respond to the work is always the most rewarding part of the process.

When a design is finally realized, I usually feel a combination of relief, excitement, and curiosity.

Relief comes from seeing months of research, sketching, fittings, and problem-solving finally come together. Costume design involves many stages, and there are always unexpected challenges along the way, so it is rewarding to see the work completed.

I also feel excited because the design becomes something real rather than an idea on paper. Seeing a performer wear the costume often reveals qualities that cannot be fully understood through sketches alone. The movement, the interaction with light, and the relationship between the costume and the body all bring the design to life.

At the same time, I feel curious because I am interested in how audiences will respond to the work. Once a design is presented, it begins to have a life beyond the designer's intentions, and different people may interpret it in different ways.

For me, the most satisfying moment is when the costume successfully supports the story and helps create a meaningful experience for the audience.

For me, a successful design is one that communicates its intention clearly and creates a meaningful connection with its audience.

I do not think success is determined only by whether a design is visually attractive. A design can be beautiful, but if it does not support its purpose or communicate an idea effectively, it is not fully successful.

As a costume designer, I believe a successful design serves the story. It helps reveal character, atmosphere, and emotion while working naturally within the larger production. Ideally, the audience understands something about the character or the world before a single line is spoken.

I also think successful design leaves a lasting impression. It encourages people to look closer, ask questions, or experience a familiar idea in a new way. Whether in theater, film, or an exhibition, the most memorable designs are often those that combine strong concepts with thoughtful execution.

Ultimately, a successful design is one in which concept, form, material, and purpose work together to create a coherent and meaningful experience.

The first thing I consider is whether the design successfully achieves its purpose. Before thinking about aesthetics, I want to understand what the design is trying to communicate and whether it does so effectively.

After that, I look at the relationship between concept and execution. A strong idea is important, but it also needs to be supported by thoughtful details, appropriate materials, and a clear visual language.

I also pay attention to coherence. Every element of a design should feel intentional and contribute to the overall concept. When form, color, material, and function work together, the design feels much stronger and more convincing.

As a costume designer, I am particularly interested in how design supports storytelling. I often ask whether the design reveals something meaningful about a character, a narrative, or a particular cultural context.

For me, good design is not necessarily the most complex or visually striking. It is the design that communicates clearly, serves its purpose, and creates a meaningful experience for its audience.

I believe designers have a responsibility to think beyond aesthetics and consider the broader impact of their work on society and the environment.

As designers, we help shape how people see the world. Through visual language, storytelling, and material choices, design can encourage reflection, raise awareness, and create conversations about social and cultural issues. Because of this influence, I think designers should approach their work thoughtfully and responsibly.

Environmental responsibility is also increasingly important. In costume and production design, large amounts of materials are often used for short periods of time. Whenever possible, I try to consider reuse, adaptation, and the lifespan of materials rather than treating everything as disposable.

At the same time, I do not think responsibility limits creativity. On the contrary, constraints often inspire new ideas and innovative solutions. Finding ways to create meaningful work while being mindful of resources is an important challenge for contemporary designers.

Ultimately, I believe designers have a responsibility to create work that is not only visually engaging but also conscious of its impact on people, culture, and the environment.

I think the design field is becoming increasingly interdisciplinary. The boundaries between art, design, technology, performance, and research are becoming less rigid, and designers are working across multiple fields more than ever before.

In my own area of costume design, we are already seeing closer connections between traditional craftsmanship, digital tools, material innovation, and immersive experiences. Designers are no longer focused only on creating objects; they are also creating experiences, narratives, and systems of interaction.

I also believe technology will continue to play an important role in the future of design. Tools such as digital modeling, artificial intelligence, and new fabrication methods are changing how designers develop and communicate ideas. However, I do not think technology will replace creativity. Instead, it will become another tool that expands what designers can achieve.

At the same time, I think audiences are becoming more interested in meaning, sustainability, and authenticity. As a result, future design will likely place greater emphasis on cultural awareness, responsible material use, and deeper engagement with social issues.

For me, the future of design is not about choosing between tradition and innovation. It is about finding new ways for craftsmanship, storytelling, technology, and human experience to work together.

My most recent exhibition was the Fashion Art Exhibition held in California in 2026 alongside the publication of my book The Art of Kaiqi Zhang. The exhibition presented selected costume design works from my artistic practice and explored the relationship between costume, performance, and visual storytelling.

This exhibition was particularly important to me because it brought together both my creative work and my research, allowing audiences to see the development of my design approach through completed projects and documentation.

As for my next exhibition, I hope to continue exhibiting new work within the next few years, ideally through international exhibitions, design festivals, or interdisciplinary art events. I am especially interested in presenting projects that explore the intersection of costume, sculpture, and contemporary visual culture.

My inspiration comes from many different sources, including literature, theater, history, mythology, and visual culture. As a costume designer, I am especially interested in how clothing reflects identity, desire, power, and social values across different periods and cultures.

Historical dress is one of my most important sources of inspiration. I often study historical garments, pattern books, paintings, and museum collections. I am fascinated by how clothing can reveal cultural attitudes and human behavior, and I frequently reinterpret historical references in a contemporary context.

I also find inspiration in performance, sculpture, architecture, and material experimentation. Sometimes a project begins with a story or a character, while other times it starts with a material, texture, or construction technique that suggests a new visual direction.

To maintain creativity, I try to stay curious. I visit exhibitions, read widely, watch performances, and continuously research subjects beyond costume design itself. For me, creativity grows from observation and learning. The more connections I can make between different fields, the more possibilities I discover for new work.

I would describe my design style as research-driven, narrative-based, and highly focused on form and material experimentation. My work often combines historical references with contemporary construction methods, creating designs that feel both familiar and unfamiliar at the same time.

I became interested in this approach through my studies of costume history and performance design. While researching historical garments, I realized that I was less interested in reproducing history accurately and more interested in reinterpreting it through a contemporary perspective. This led me to explore how traditional silhouettes and structures could be transformed into new visual languages.

One of the main characteristics of my work is the relationship between the body and the costume. I am interested in how clothing can extend, distort, conceal, or reshape the body, creating new meanings beyond its practical function. Material experimentation is also an important part of my practice, and I often use unconventional construction methods to create sculptural forms and unexpected textures.

My design process usually begins with research. I start by studying the narrative, historical context, visual references, and conceptual themes of a project. From there, I move into sketching, draping, and material testing. Rather than treating design as a linear process, I see it as a dialogue between concept, material, and form, where ideas continue to evolve throughout the making process.

I am originally from China and currently live in Los Angeles, where I am pursuing my MFA in Costume Design at California Institute of the Arts. Before moving to the United States, I studied Costume Design for Theatre and Screen in London, and I also had the opportunity to study in Europe. These experiences have shaped my design practice significantly.

My cultural background has a strong influence on my work. Growing up in China gave me an appreciation for symbolism, craftsmanship, and the relationship between visual culture and history. Later, studying in the United Kingdom introduced me to a different approach that emphasized research, critical thinking, and historical analysis. My experience in Europe further expanded my interest in costume history, museum collections, and the ways fashion and art intersect with cultural identity.

One of the greatest advantages of living and studying across different countries is exposure to multiple perspectives. Chinese, British, European, and American artistic traditions each approach design differently, and moving between these environments has encouraged me to develop a more open and interdisciplinary way of thinking. It has also strengthened my interest in combining historical references with contemporary visual language.

At the same time, working across cultures requires sensitivity and continuous learning. Different audiences may interpret symbols, materials, and visual narratives in very different ways. As a designer, I need to understand these cultural contexts rather than relying on assumptions.

Overall, my work has been shaped by the combination of Chinese cultural roots, British design education, European historical influences, and the experimental artistic environment of Los Angeles. I believe this cross-cultural perspective is one of the defining characteristics of my design practice.

I usually work with companies on a project basis. The process typically begins with discussions about the project's goals, target audience, visual direction, and practical requirements. I believe it is important to understand not only what a client wants to create, but also why they want to create it.

After the initial research and communication stage, I develop visual concepts, references, sketches, and material proposals that align with the project's objectives. Throughout the process, I maintain close communication with the creative team to ensure that design decisions support both the artistic vision and the practical needs of the project.

My background in costume design has taught me how to balance creativity with collaboration. Whether I am working with a theater production, a film project, a commercial campaign, or a cultural institution, I see design as a collaborative process that requires flexibility, problem-solving, and clear communication.

I enjoy working with companies because each project presents different challenges and opportunities. My goal is always to create designs that are visually compelling while effectively supporting the client's broader vision and objectives.

I think the most important thing for companies is to view designers as creative partners rather than simply service providers. The best results often come from open communication, mutual trust, and a shared understanding of the project's goals.

When selecting a designer, I would encourage companies to look beyond visual style alone. A strong portfolio is important, but it is equally important to understand how a designer thinks, researches, solves problems, and responds to challenges. Good design is not only about aesthetics; it is also about communication, collaboration, and the ability to translate ideas into meaningful outcomes.

I would also recommend choosing a designer whose approach aligns with the needs of the project. Different designers have different strengths. Some are highly conceptual, some excel at technical execution, and others are particularly strong collaborators. The right designer is not necessarily the most famous one, but the one whose skills and perspective best fit the project.

Finally, I believe companies should give designers enough space to contribute creatively. The most successful collaborations often happen when there is a clear objective but also room for experimentation, dialogue, and new ideas. This allows both the company and the designer to achieve results that neither could have developed alone.

My design process usually begins with research. I start by understanding the story, concept, historical context, and goals of a project. At this stage, I collect visual references, study relevant materials, and identify the key ideas I want the design to communicate.

Once the research is established, I move into concept development through sketching, mood boards, and visual exploration. Rather than focusing immediately on the final appearance, I try to understand the relationship between narrative, silhouette, and material.

The next stage is experimentation. As a costume designer, I often test fabrics, construction methods, and sculptural forms directly on a mannequin. This hands-on process is important because many ideas evolve through making rather than through drawing alone.

After refining the concept, I develop the final design and move into construction, fittings, and adjustments. During this stage, I continue responding to practical needs while preserving the original creative vision.

Overall, I see design as a dialogue between research, material, and making. Even when a project begins with a clear idea, I remain open to unexpected discoveries throughout the process.

1.My collection of costume and fashion history books.

I often return to books such as Patterns of Fashion for research and inspiration. They are both practical references and sources of creative ideas.

2.A dress form (mannequin).

As a costume designer, it is probably the most important object in my workspace. Many of my ideas develop through draping and experimenting directly on the form.

3.Sketchbooks and notebooks.

I constantly use them to record ideas, research notes, and quick sketches. They help me organize thoughts throughout the design process.

4.Museum and exhibition catalogues.

I enjoy collecting catalogues from exhibitions because they allow me to revisit artworks, costumes, and design projects long after the exhibition has ended.

5.A vintage garment from a second-hand market.

I am fascinated by the construction details and history embedded in clothing. Studying old garments often teaches me more about design than looking at photographs alone.

A typical day for me usually begins with checking emails, reviewing project schedules, and organizing tasks for the day. Since I am currently pursuing my MFA in Costume Design, my time is often divided between academic work, design projects, and production-related responsibilities.

Depending on the stage of a project, my day may involve research, sketching, sourcing materials, attending meetings, or working in the costume shop. If I am preparing for a production, I might spend several hours draping, pattern making, fittings, or solving technical construction problems.

I also spend a significant amount of time reading, visiting exhibitions, or studying historical references. Research is an important part of my practice and often generates new ideas for future projects.

In the evening, I usually continue working on design development, update project documentation, or prepare for upcoming deadlines. While every day is different, most of my time is centered around learning, making, and developing ideas through both creative and practical work.

One thing that remains consistent is my curiosity. Whether I am working on a production, reading a book, or observing everyday life, I am always collecting references and inspiration for future projects.

One piece of advice I would give to young designers is to stay curious and keep learning. Design is not only about developing technical skills; it is also about understanding people, culture, history, and the world around you. The broader your knowledge, the richer your creative work will become.

I would also encourage young designers to develop their own perspective rather than chasing trends. Trends change quickly, but a personal point of view can sustain a creative practice over the long term. Spend time discovering what genuinely interests you and allow those interests to shape your work.

Another important lesson is not to be afraid of experimentation or failure. Some of the most valuable discoveries come from projects that do not go exactly as planned. Every mistake teaches you something about materials, process, or problem-solving.

I also believe that collaboration is essential. Design rarely happens in isolation. Learning how to communicate, listen, and work with others is just as important as developing creative ideas.

Finally, be patient with your development. Building a meaningful body of work takes time. Focus on improving your skills, expanding your knowledge, and creating work that reflects your own interests and values. A strong creative voice is developed gradually through experience, research, and practice.

One of the greatest advantages of being a designer is the opportunity to turn ideas into reality. There is something very rewarding about starting with a concept, developing it through research and experimentation, and eventually seeing it exist in the physical world.

Another positive aspect is that design is a field of continuous learning. Every project introduces new subjects, new collaborators, and new challenges. As a costume designer, I may be researching seventeenth-century clothing for one project and exploring new materials or technologies for another. This constant discovery keeps the work exciting.

At the same time, design can be demanding. Creative work often involves uncertainty, tight deadlines, and balancing artistic ambitions with practical limitations such as budgets, schedules, and production requirements. A designer must learn how to adapt and solve problems under pressure.

Another challenge is that design is highly collaborative, which means ideas often evolve through discussion and compromise. While collaboration can lead to stronger outcomes, it also requires flexibility and strong communication skills.

Overall, I think the rewards outweigh the challenges. The opportunity to create meaningful work, continue learning, and contribute to cultural and creative projects is what makes being a designer so fulfilling for me.

My golden rule in design is that every design decision should have a reason.

Whether I am choosing a silhouette, a color, a material, or a construction method, I always ask myself why that choice is necessary and what it contributes to the overall concept. I believe the strongest designs are those in which every element supports a larger idea rather than existing only for decoration.

As a costume designer, I also believe that design should serve the story. Even the most visually striking design is not successful if it does not communicate something meaningful about a character, a narrative, or an experience.

For this reason, I always try to balance creativity with intention. Experimentation is important, but it should support the concept rather than distract from it. When concept, form, and purpose work together, the design becomes more powerful and memorable.

In short, my golden rule is simple: every choice should be intentional.

I believe the most important skill for a designer is the ability to think critically and solve problems. Design is not only about creating something visually appealing; it is about finding effective ways to communicate ideas, respond to challenges, and achieve specific goals.

Research is also extremely important. Strong design is often built on a deep understanding of context, whether that involves history, culture, audience, materials, or storytelling. The ability to gather information and transform it into meaningful design decisions is essential.

Communication is another key skill. Designers rarely work alone, and being able to clearly explain ideas, listen to feedback, and collaborate with different teams is a major part of the profession.

For me, curiosity is equally important. The design field is constantly evolving, and designers need to remain open to new ideas, technologies, materials, and perspectives. Continuous learning is what allows a designer to grow over time.

Finally, I think adaptability is essential. Every project has different requirements, constraints, and challenges. A good designer must be able to adjust, experiment, and find creative solutions while staying focused on the overall objective.

My toolbox includes both traditional and digital tools, but I especially enjoy working with physical materials during the early stages of design.

One of my favorite methods is creating hand-made paper collages. I often collect images from books, magazines, printed photographs, and historical references, then cut and arrange them by hand to explore visual relationships, textures, colors, and concepts. I find that physical collage allows for unexpected connections and discoveries that are sometimes difficult to achieve digitally.

For digital work, I use Adobe Photoshop, Illustrator, and InDesign for presentations, visual development, and project documentation. I also rely on museum databases, digital archives, and online collections for research.

For costume development, my toolbox includes sketchbooks, a dress form, sewing equipment, pattern-making tools, fabric samples, and material-testing supplies. I often move back and forth between research, collage, sketching, draping, and construction as ideas evolve.

Books are another important resource. I frequently use historical costume references such as Janet Arnold’s Patterns of Fashion, exhibition catalogues, theater texts, and fashion history publications.

More than any particular tool, I am interested in the process of collecting and connecting ideas. Whether through hand-made collages, historical research, or material experimentation, my goal is always to discover new visual possibilities and develop a strong narrative foundation for each project.

Design projects can be very time-consuming, especially in costume design where research, development, fittings, and construction all require significant attention. To manage my time, I usually divide a project into smaller stages and set clear priorities for each phase.

I begin by identifying major deadlines and then creating a schedule that allows enough time for research, design development, revisions, and production. Breaking a large project into manageable tasks helps me stay organized and avoid feeling overwhelmed.

I also try to balance creativity with practicality. It is easy to spend endless time refining details, but I have learned that deadlines are an important part of the design process. Sometimes making a decision and moving forward is more valuable than pursuing perfection.

Because I often work on multiple projects simultaneously, I keep detailed notes, calendars, and task lists to track progress. This helps me switch between different projects while maintaining consistency and meeting deadlines.

Most importantly, I believe good time management creates more space for creativity. When the practical aspects of a project are organized, I can focus more fully on research, experimentation, and design development.

The timeline depends greatly on the scale and complexity of the project. Some designs can be developed within a few weeks, while others may take several months from initial research to final realization.

In costume design, the process usually includes research, concept development, sketching, material sourcing, fittings, revisions, and construction. For a single costume, the design phase may take several days to a few weeks. For a larger production involving multiple characters, the entire process can last for several months.

I do not think of design as a strictly linear process. Even after a design appears finished, it often continues to evolve through material testing, fittings, and collaboration with performers and directors. Some of the most important decisions are made during the making process itself.

For me, the length of a project is less important than ensuring there is enough time for research, experimentation, and refinement. Strong design usually develops through multiple stages of exploration rather than being completed all at once.

One of the questions I am asked most often is, “Where do your ideas come from?”

I think people are often curious about the creative process because design can sometimes seem mysterious from the outside. They see the finished work, but they do not always see the research, experimentation, and problem-solving that happen behind the scenes.

My answer is usually that inspiration rarely comes from a single source. Most ideas develop through a combination of research, observation, historical references, literature, conversations, and material exploration. Creativity is often less about waiting for inspiration and more about staying curious and making connections between different subjects.

Another question I hear frequently is, “How long did this take to make?” I think this reflects how much work is hidden within the final result. What appears to be a single costume or design often represents weeks or months of research, testing, revision, and collaboration.

These questions remind me that design is not only about creating objects but also about communicating a process of thinking, learning, and discovery.

One of the most important experiences in my career was working as the lead costume designer for an independent short film production in Los Angeles. It was one of the first projects where I was fully responsible for developing the costume design from concept to execution while collaborating with directors, producers, actors, and other departments.

The project taught me that costume design is not only about creating visually interesting clothing. It is also about communication, organization, budgeting, scheduling, and solving unexpected problems under real production conditions. Every design decision had to support the story while also fitting practical constraints.

What made this experience especially valuable was the level of collaboration involved. I worked closely with the creative team to develop character identities and visual storytelling, while also adapting to production changes throughout the process. It helped me better understand how costume design functions within a larger creative system.

This experience strengthened both my creative and professional skills, and it gave me greater confidence in leading projects independently. It was an important step in my transition from being a student designer to working in a professional production environment.

As a costume designer, I primarily work with theater productions, independent film projects, artists, and cultural organizations rather than commercial fashion brands.

My clients and collaborators have included directors, producers, theater companies, filmmakers, educational institutions, and interdisciplinary artists. Through these collaborations, I have designed costumes for stage productions, short films, exhibitions, and performance-based projects.

Because much of my work is project-based, I focus less on long-term commercial clients and more on creative collaborations that allow me to develop visual storytelling through costume. I particularly enjoy working with productions that value research, character development, and strong artistic concepts.

At this stage of my career, I see each project as an opportunity to work with different creative teams and explore new ideas, whether in theater, film, performance, or exhibition contexts.

The type of design work I enjoy most is costume design for historical and fantasy-based productions.

I am particularly drawn to these projects because they combine research, storytelling, and visual world-building. Historical projects allow me to study different periods, cultures, and garment construction techniques, while fantasy projects give me the freedom to reinterpret those references and create entirely new visual languages.

What interests me most is the opportunity to build a character through costume. Clothing can communicate personality, social status, emotion, and even ideology before a character speaks. I enjoy using silhouette, material, and construction to support storytelling and create a deeper connection between the audience and the narrative.

I am also especially interested in projects that involve material experimentation and sculptural forms. Some of my favorite work exists somewhere between costume, fashion, and sculpture, where the costume becomes more than clothing and functions as part of the storytelling itself.

Ultimately, I enjoy projects that challenge me both creatively and intellectually, allowing me to combine historical research, conceptual thinking, and hands-on making within a single design process.

t the moment, my primary focus is completing my MFA in Costume Design at California Institute of the Arts. I want to continue developing my artistic practice while gaining more experience in professional theater, film, and interdisciplinary projects.

After graduation, I hope to expand my work internationally and collaborate with a wider range of directors, artists, and production companies. I am particularly interested in projects that combine costume design, performance, visual art, and material experimentation.

I also plan to continue exhibiting my work and developing research-based projects that explore the relationship between costume, identity, history, and contemporary culture. I am interested in treating costume not only as a tool for performance, but also as an independent artistic medium.

In the long term, I hope to build a career that moves between theater, film, exhibitions, and large-scale creative collaborations. My goal is to continue creating work that combines storytelling, historical research, and innovative approaches to materials and form.

The design work itself is usually developed by me, but the overall process is highly collaborative.

I typically conduct the research, develop concepts, create sketches, and make the key design decisions independently. I enjoy having direct involvement in every stage of the creative process because it helps maintain a clear and consistent vision.

At the same time, costume design is never created in isolation. In theater and film productions, I work closely with directors, producers, performers, scenic designers, lighting designers, and technical teams. Their perspectives often influence and strengthen the final result.

I see design as a balance between individual creativity and collaboration. The core concept may come from a single designer, but the realization of a project depends on the contributions of many people. Some of the most successful projects I have worked on were the result of strong teamwork combined with a clear design vision.

Yes. One project I have been working on recently is a science-fiction short film set in a future world called The Book Killers.

As the costume designer, my role is to help visualize the social structure and atmosphere of this imagined future through clothing. The project explores a society shaped by technology, control, and changing relationships between people and information, so the costumes need to support both the world-building and the storytelling.

One aspect I find particularly interesting is balancing futuristic aesthetics with practical character design. Rather than creating costumes that feel purely technological, I focus on how clothing can communicate identity, occupation, and social status within the film's universe. This approach helps make the fictional world feel more believable and lived-in.

The project has also given me the opportunity to collaborate closely with the director and production team while adapting designs to the realities of an independent film production. It has been an exciting experience because it combines narrative design, character development, and visual world-building, which are some of the aspects of costume design that I enjoy most.

People can contact me through email, phone, or Instagram.

Email: k.tammyqio@gmail.com

Phone: +1 (414) 233-2471

Instagram: @tammy.qio

I am always interested in connecting with directors, filmmakers, artists, production companies, and creative collaborators. Feel free to reach out regarding costume design projects, exhibitions, film productions, or other creative opportunities.

es. Beyond design itself, I am deeply interested in history, wildlife, travel, and cultural heritage, and these interests often influence my creative work.

I enjoy visiting museums, historical sites, and natural environments whenever I travel. Observing different cultures, landscapes, and ways of life helps me better understand how people express identity through clothing, rituals, and material culture. Many of my design ideas begin with something I have encountered during research or travel rather than within the design field itself.

I am also fascinated by animals and the natural world. The structures, textures, colors, and adaptive forms found in nature often inspire the way I think about silhouette, material, and transformation in costume design. Nature is one of the most innovative designers, and I believe there is a great deal that artists can learn from observing it.

Ultimately, I think design becomes richer when it is connected to a broader curiosity about the world. Whether I am studying historical garments, exploring a new city, observing wildlife, or reading about cultural history, I am always looking for new perspectives that can inform my work and help me tell more meaningful stories through design.