I started thinking about this collection during university.
Back then, I was developing a project about synesthesia: the idea that sound could become something physical. Instead of treating music as something you only hear, I wanted people to experience it through creation.
The project proposed that participants would listen to the same song and transform what they heard into something visual. Every result would be different because every person experiences music differently.
The idea was considered too speculative.
Too difficult to prove.
Too unfundable.
The project never left the classroom.
I couldn't stop thinking about it.
Years later, I found myself coming back to the same question.
What if people didn't need to understand synesthesia to experience it?
What if all they needed was a blank canvas?
That's how White Canvas started.
I wanted to make something that wasn't completely finished before it reached someone else's hands.
Most clothes already tell you exactly what they are.
This one asks you to decide.
Maybe you never draw on it.
Maybe you fill every inch with color.
Maybe you spill coffee on it before touching the markers.
I honestly like all three options.
Every White Canvas comes with a small kit inside the box:
— fabric markers
— a set of simple instructions
That's it.
Enough to start whenever you feel like it.
Or not.
There's no right way to use it.
The first time we tested the idea with friends, everyone hesitated.
Nobody wanted to ruin the t-shirt.
People kept saying things like "I don't know how to draw" or "What if I mess it up?"
Then someone accidentally stained their shirt.
Someone spilled wine.
Someone drew over the stain instead of trying to clean it.
The mood changed completely after that.
It stopped feeling like there was a right answer.
I've been calling those moments accidents of the journey.
Not because they were planned.
Because they changed everything that came after.
Sometimes all you need is permission to stop trying to get it right.
I don't really expect every White Canvas to become a masterpiece.
Actually, I hope they don't.
I hope they become reminders of a weekend, a conversation, a trip, a person.
Something that couldn't have existed if it had stayed perfectly white.
Maybe that's why I like the idea of a canvas.
Not because it's blank.
Because it doesn't stay that way for very long.
— Never Off
out july 22.