Cut, dyed, punched, sewn — by hand, at a bench.
Nothing leaves the studio that has not been held for an hour. Templates are drawn and redrawn, edges closed by friction, every stitch pulled twice.
A template is an argument about proportion.
Card bays, cash slot, the depth of a pocket, the thickness a hand stops noticing. Each is drawn on card, cut, carried for a week, and drawn again.
Dye is applied, not printed.
Hand-dyed in small lots, so no two hides finish the same. The colour sits in the fibre and moves with it.
The press, the iron, the pony.
Marks are struck under an arbor press. Holes are pricked with an iron, not drilled. The seam is sewn saddle-stitch with two needles, so one broken thread stays one broken thread.
Machines are used where a machine is honest. Everything that decides how the object feels is done by hand.
An edge is finished when it stops feeling like a cut.
Bevelled, sanded, sealed, burnished — four passes, no shortcut. Then the piece is held, opened, loaded with cards, and carried before it is allowed to leave.
Objects come back to the studio for repair, and that is the point of making them this way.