About the DNA

In the end, my brand (it still feels a little strange to call it a brand, but it will become one) is built on the raw hip-hop beats I grew up on.
It is an echo of all the beats I left behind in my Akai MPC. It is the transformation of sampling — from sounds into fabrics.
That is why all the photographs that follow, on Instagram and in the catalogue on the website, will stay raw until I can afford a professional shoot. Or until some kind-hearted people step in and lend a hand on a barter basis.
I treat this as part of the story — the story of my growth not simply as a craftsman (which I definitely consider myself to be), but also as a carrier of the DNA of the House of Ivashko on my mother’s side.
But my brand is not only about one side of the family. It is also about my father’s side. About both grandmothers — seamstresses and makers. About my aunt. About all those who have a sewing machine.
So don’t turn away from this rawness of the beginning. Be active viewers. Be the voice in the comments. Be real, just like ivashko, upcycling studio. Polished gloss is interesting to no one, so I chose to be matte. Just like all my mother’s film photographs.
Yes. I still remember how she would insist that the photographs had to be matte at the photo studio near the final trolleybus stop by Hotel Lviv, there, around the corner, on the way to Millennium.
And I still remember how disappointed she was that one time when they turned out glossy. Because she had forgotten to say they had to be matte.
— And why do they always have to be matte? — I asked her in gestures.
— So the sun doesn’t blind them.