Footwear Design as a Creative Dialogue.
Footwear design, to me, is never just about following trends or making things that “look good.” It’s a deep, physical, and emotional process. It starts with material in my hands, often even before I know what form it will take. And one material that consistently fascinates me—after years of working with it—is vegetable-tanned leather. It’s the kind of material that keeps giving. I’ve tested it, pushed it, reshaped it, and still I know—I’ve barely scratched the surface.
Even after countless experiments, I remain convinced that vegetable-tanned leather has so much more to show me. It’s a living material, unpredictable in the best way. The process of designing shoes always brings something unexpected, and this unpredictability is what fuels creative design. Each pair I create becomes not just a product, but a personal exploration and a new chapter in the long conversation between craftsmanship and shoe design.
Like Clay and Wood at the Same Time.
This extraordinary leather has a physical language of its own. It feels like I’m working with clay—soft, moldable, full of promise. And then, through the application of heat and time, it changes. It hardens into something as strong as wood. Then, with the right conditions, it can go back again soft, again shapeable. This cycle can repeat endlessly. That transformation—soft to hard, back to soft—is the kind of dialogue I find in no other material. It’s not just part of shoe design, it is designing footwear with living matter.
This behavior allows me, as a footwear designer, to sculpt forms, not just assemble components. It’s not sewing pieces together—it’s about building an identity. That’s where craftsmanship and shoe design overlap in the most honest way. It’s not decoration, it’s function shaped with intention.
Creative Shoe Design Means Letting the Leather Speak
Each time I start a new shoe, especially with vegetable-tanned leather, I don’t impose a strict vision. I let the material push back. It speaks through resistance, through tension, through how it folds, bends, and stretches. That back-and-forth is where the creative shoe design really happens.
Of course, I make sketches. Of course, I have ideas. But the magic happens when hands meet material. This kind of craftsmanship in shoe design demands attention, patience, and freedom. Sometimes a design appears because the leather said “no” to the previous idea. That’s not a failure—it’s design in its most real form.
Old Leather, New Story
I often work with previously used leather. I love that moment when I pick up an old piece and it still carries the shapes of the shoe it once was. It remembers the folds, the stretches, the stains, the pressure points. I don’t erase that memory. I incorporate it into the design of footwear all over again. It’s like taking an old story and giving it a new form, with new words and rhythm.
That’s something plastic or synthetic will never give you. Leather has a memory. It remembers the hands that shaped it and the feet that wore it. When I make designer shoes, I don’t aim for perfection. I aim for honesty—shoes that carry history in their skin.
Footwear as Storyteller
Shoes, by nature, are storytellers. They aren’t just silent objects. They evolve with their wearer. They deform with time, they adapt to the way someone moves, to how they walk, where they go, and what they carry in their lives.
Every scuff, every line, every spot of wear—it’s part of the shoe’s own journey. And that journey, to me, is beautiful. That’s why in my footwear design, I always leave space for the future. I don’t want to make shoes that are only beautiful when new. I want to make shoes that get better with time. That turned into personal relics. That becomes part of someone's life.
This belief influences every decision during the designing process. When I choose stitching lines, or when I decide to leave a raw edge visible, or when I shape a heel counter that will eventually carry the pressure of years, it’s not just aesthetic. It’s part of the story.
Design Without Fear of Imperfection
In creative design, especially in handmade designer shoes, there’s no hiding behind machines or automation. Every mistake is visible. Every decision leaves a mark. But I don’t see those marks as flaws. They are signatures of real work done by real hands. Sometimes, during the designing of footwear, a slight shift happens in symmetry, or a stitch pulls tighter than planned, and these small “imperfections” are what make the shoe alive.
It’s part of craftsmanship and shoe design—to accept and respect these traces. To even use them. They become a part of the final composition. No industrial perfection can replace this kind of authenticity.
Designing Shoes Is Not Just Technical—It’s Intimate
In the end, designing shoes is an intimate act. You hold the future shape in your hands before it even exists. You feel it in the curve of the leather, in the resistance of a folded edge, in the sound the sole makes as it bends. You imagine not just the shoe—but the person who will wear it. You imagine their movement, their personality, and even the emotions they might feel when stepping into something that was made with intention.
That’s why shoe design is never just functional. It’s emotional. It’s personal. It’s both object and message. And every time I design, I am reminded—this isn’t just what I do. This is what I believe in.
