When I moved into my new studio just six months ago, I tried to picture the work that I’d make in this space.
What would it look like? What was it about? Who was it for? Where would it go? What kind of materials, tools, skills, time, and help would I need to bring it to all life?
As a part of that process, I reflected on the last 7 years of finding my way along this nebulous path of coming into my art & design practice — from cobbling together the first “joy mao” collection in 2017, to quitting my job and moving to New York in 2018, to graduating from fashion school in 2019 right into the pandemic, to navigating the challenges of the fashion industry, to saying screw it all — and signing the lease on my first official studio in 2024.
This is a particularly exciting moment to be joining me on this adventure, because 2025 is the first year that I’ll be focusing full time on my art and design practice. It’s been a winding journey that’s becoming increasingly hard to explain — yet increasingly solid in my heart.
Hopes and dreams
For the last decade, I’ve traveled through various work environments, designing/crafting/teaching around textiles, creative process, and connected social issues. Along the way, I’ve made small batches of garments and accessories for my brand “joy mao,” either by myself or with some close friends.
As a clothing designer, I’ve strived to make beautiful, well-crafted things that are useful and meaningful to the people who live with them. As a textile artist, I’ve focused on finding the connective threads between craft and community.
Regardless of where I’ve worked and what I’ve made — I’ve always wanted my work to invite introspection and encourage an intentional, imaginative way of life. It’s always been about practicing art and design as a way of gathering of people over shared interests and values. Over time, I’ve been so lucky to connect with an inspiring community of people who want their everyday actions to leave things just slightly better than we found them.
![](https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1456,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fe0b9b004-8f05-4e5f-8b0d-f5f22b4ecf4a_4745x7118.jpeg)
After a decade of collecting bits and pieces of a creative career, I’m looking at the first full year ahead where I don’t have commitments to work full or part-time on anything other than the ideas that feel like they’re about to burst from my head.
What an incredibly exciting place to be! But also how terrifying???
How exactly does one forge a clear path from the seemingly infinite possibilities ahead? What if those possibilities look less like paved roads, and more like dirt and dust? What if you can already see the roadblocks looming, and never feel equipped enough to face them?
A little structure usually helps
I’ve historically coped with feeling scattered or overwhelmed by giving myself some structure. After all, ideas need containers in order to take shape. And as long as I hold onto the ideas that I care about, the exact containers can shift and change — right?
Back in 2020, when New York shut down in the midst of the pandemic — I decided to teach myself machine knitting. After making my way through my machine’s user manual and countless YouTube videos, I challenged myself to make 30 hats in 30 days — as a way to practice the craft and keep my head above water.
I picked a new technique each day, designed and knitted a hat with that technique, posted about it on Instagram, and repeated for 30 days.
Some of the hats were successful, and some were pretty weird. The process was intense, and I’m not sure I’d really recommend or repeat……
While this project did teach me a fair number of knitting-related skills, my most valuable learnings actually were:
The strengths of being a beginner — how learning new things let me see through the lens of “how about” and “why not,” idealistic yet formidable perspectives that could make impossible things possible
The progress that comes from steadiness alone — what can happen when I just put one foot in front of the other and stay open to where it all leads
Roles to grow into
Last year, I decided that I could have a really fulfilling career if I could figure out how to be a combination of these three things:
I’ve been lucky to practice being each of these things at different junctures of my career, across very different projects and types of work. Although I’m still figuring out what exactly these terms mean to me — they feel right for now, and I feel guided by them.
Can I trust my intuition?
This year is one of new beginnings, and with that comes both incredible excitement and intense fear. The stakes feel higher, and more people are watching (my dad just became a subscriber, so that’s kinda terrifying — hi dad!).
But I’m more or less the same person who’s been along this path for the last decade — still open-hearted, stubborn, idealistic — just with a few more gray hairs, some new tools in the tool box, and the best of friends.
Some structure for 2025:
Emboldened by both the gifts and lessons of 2024, I’ve decided to structure 2025 around twelve projects, roughly one per month:
four collaborative collections, working with a fellow maker to experiment with new ideas and modes of making
four personal projects investigating a new material, skill, or story — to push myself as a textile artist and researcher
four public programs inviting people to make with me — fostering space for co-learning and connection through craft
Some commitments:
Work in accordance with who I am and what I know — my perspective, my values, my skills, and my boundaries (important!)
Document and share my process — grow as a communicator, celebrate my progress, and share my learnings with my community
Don’t be pressured to grow faster than I need to, or just because someone is asking me to — trust my own intuition and stay on my path
Stay open to where the process may lead — allowing each project’s learnings to guide the next, and for plans to change as life unfolds
Help keep me going
People always seem to ask me, “How can I support your work?” when I happen to have nothing available for purchase. I always feel both so touched and so embarrassed!
A few pieces from Chores Collection 2, Season 2 are still available as of this moment, but in addition to buying my work and attending my events — here are some high-impact ways that you can support me as I tackle this ambitious year:
If you think someone you know might enjoy my work, or learn something from what I share, tell them about me <3
If something resonates with you, let me know <33
Continue to stay curious and compassionate about the labor behind creative work, and how it struggles to coexist with systems that rely on mass consumption — can our everyday actions help to build new systems that are kinder, more meaningful, and more sustainable for all?
To everyone following along this year — I’m deeply grateful for the time and attention that you’ve entrusted to me. I’m gonna do my best, and can’t wait to see where everything goes!
Happy new year,
Joy
P.S. For those who read till the end — first 2025 collaborative collection coming just in time for Lunar New Year. <333
I also made a rough writing plan by the month for the year, but the amount of times I’ve told my therapist “I don’t have ANYONE telling me what’s the right thing to do! Or when!”…It’s both freeing and disorienting for sure.
Cheering for you from afar as always!