A studio that treats a pattern as a sentence.
SINK OR SWIM began in a fishbowl. A fish named Sing kept a rhythm that never matched the one around it, and learned that the glass holding it back was also the glass keeping it safe. We build patterns out of that exact contradiction — the wish to leave, the fear of leaving, and the moment a fin moves anyway.
So ornament, for us, is never empty. Each repeat is a chapter first — a fear named, a threshold crossed, a comparison released — then translated thread by thread into a surface you can live inside. Not decoration. A quiet argument you can wear.
The current
beneath the cloth.
Our first series drew the current Sing felt before it knew it was moving. Lines that never quite return to where they began, because a choice does not let you return either. We learned that one repeat can hold grief and buoyancy in the same breath.
Every collection since has kept the same discipline: begin with a story, end with a surface that keeps telling it long after the words are gone.
— The founding note
To sink is
also to see.
We are not afraid of the darker register. Our most collected patterns come from the held breath before resolve — the seahorse offering comfort, the octopus weighed down by what it once earned, the shark whose ideals fail at the first hunger. None of them is wrong. Each is a way of swimming.
Restraint is the house signature. Colour is rationed. The plum runs deep as the water Sing chose; the mint arrives like the light that finds you once you stop measuring yourself against everyone else.
Freedom is not leaving the bowl. It begins the moment you set down the measuring eye.
The question inside every repeat
