Would you share creative credit with your artisans? Joao Maraschin built his business model around it

“I never go to the artisan with a tech-pack and tell them: do this,” the London College of Fashion graduate explains, holding a red suit jacket from his third and latest collection, recently presented at London Fashion Week. The piece was entirely embroidered by hand, rendering the material delicately textured. “I consider the artisans my co-designers,” he says. “The embroidery is more than a decorative detail. It creates the surface, giving the artisan full control, so it feels like they leave a trace of their persona in the textile.”

In fashion, the trendy term commonly refers to an informal club of brand representatives, VIP’s and influencers, but for Joao, community refers to a brand model where artisans are valued and their work is recognized as a creative contribution.

In the world of Joao Maraschin, the crafts humans have developed over centuries are our most precious valuable – and need to be preserved. This means that artisans and their skills are more than a means to assure quality. Joao aims to build a “community”. In fashion, the trendy term commonly refers to an informal club of brand representatives, VIP’s and influencers, but for Joao, it refers to a brand model where artisans are valued and their work is recognized as a creative contribution.

This definition of a creative community instinctively clashes with our contemporary (Western) conception of fashion, where a single creative director imagines the collection and working hands merely execute, or at most, consult on, that vision – they don’t contribute their own. That is not the case for Joao: “The creative direction might come from me, but there is always a dialogue.”

In our understanding of craft, handwork is at its peak when it’s invisible, meaning we don’t expect the individual hand of the maker to shine through – personality is for creative leaders only. Here, that cliché is questioned, as the makers are encouraged to express themselves creatively. The most obvious example is the white embroidered tulle pieces, where each of the twelve artisans that contributed was invited to draw a part of their life, no further thematic direction given. The garment now carries images of their houses, their church, their dogs, their political views.

At large-scale fashion brands, that approach is currently unimaginable: even in-house designers are expected to forgo credit (and personal recognition), no matter whether they might be the one to have actually created a piece. Imagine if every person that touched a garment would be allowed to add their signature.

The designer first started working with the groups of older, mostly female, artisans after a BA in his home country, while designing for his previous, self-owned label and other independent designers. Both his studies and work experience gave him a wider understanding of the business, knowledge he then took to London in 2016 to study an MA and develop the narrative that would become the basis of his new brand.

“I’ve often been told I’m crazy, but I want to visit every single artisan that I work with in person. I’m the direct point of contact, there is no middle man. When I talk about transparency and traceability, this is as close as I can get.” – Joao Maraschin

Now, those contributors are fully incorporated into the brand, meaning that they are put on a fixed contract with monthly payments, their income assured even when the workflow slows down (during COVID, for example) and they receive a space to work from. Joao personally keeps in touch with the workers, regularly visiting the studios in Caxias do Sul, Belo Horizonte, and Itabira. “I’ve often been told I’m crazy, but I want to visit every single artisan that I work with in person. I’m the direct point of contact, there is no middle man. When I talk about transparency and traceability, this is as close as I can get.”

“The joy of having them see everything together and feel represented, really makes everything worth it.” – Joao Maraschin

The model comes with an obvious advantage: as the employees are included in the creative process, they feel connected to the end product and proud to participate. Even across continents, this facilitates communication. “I always love receiving the messages of the artisans when they see the finished product. Often, they work on the textile, but then the design will be assembled here in London, so they don’t know what it will look like until the end. The joy of having them see everything together and feel represented, really makes everything worth it.”

Placing others at the center of your design practice also means decentralizing yourself, or at least your ego. As a designer, this means letting go of control, starting the creative process with the skills and materials of others, then using your imagination to shape the narrative. “Designers need to understand the role of everyone behind the scenes, those who participate in the creation of the product. Right now, they don’t have the opportunity to be heard, but they need to be made part of the conversation and part of the creation.”

This design approach also requires improvisation and an openness to finding new ideas in unexpected places. Joao makes sure to always keep his eyes open, which also serves other areas of his practice, such as material research. During a factory visit, for example, he noticed a pile of fabric cutoffs, strokes of additional selvage waiting to be thrown out. The designer took the discarded material home and reworked the frayed edges to create a set of hairy jumpers. “Recycling and upcycling is an important aspect of my work. I always challenge myself to make something desirable, rather than a simple patchwork of other people’s creations.”

That is an attitude he advises young graduates too: “You have to be curious and find new directions, ways of working that might not be traditional but are right in front of you.”

The working methodology Joao has set up is one that offers a solution to both social and sustainability issues, but it’s not necessarily the most profitable within our current fashion system. The reason our Western industry has become so powerful is exactly because it has placed the ego at its centre. Individuality remains an irresistible commercial instrument. For young designers, creating a trendy, instantly recognizable style that functions well on hand-held screens is still the surest way to success. In that process, the ego is necessarily prioritized. “I support the practice of the artisans, I also want to inspire consumers on alternative ways of engaging with fashion, but, right now, I don’t capitalize on the idea,” Joao says. “I’m completely self-funded, which means I have to compromise on the image. I do feel the pressure of comparing myself to designers with very different resources. As an emerging designer, you can’t always explore the full creativity you have.” In our image-focused field, stories like that of Joao and his artisans don’t always translate well.

We all know that it will take more than a switch to recyclable shopping bags for our industry to start making a positive impact on the environment. We call for system change, but don’t always realise how deep that transformation needs to be, encompassing material selection, labour practices, and consumer habits, certainly, but also our definition of creativity and who is allowed to practice it.

Joao Maraschin offers an alternative to our conservative design practice, one where the designer is more than a creative vision, but also a talent scout, a mediator, and a translator.