- Tat London
- 2 days ago
- 4 min read
When London is lit up by sun, it’s hard to hold onto cynicism. Even the unloved corners – cluttered with wrappers and empty cans – seem to shift slightly, as if they might hold some kind of promise. That said, there was no need for wishful thinking when approaching the home of Isabel Farchy. East London’s peculiar charm, paired with the nostalgic sight of children devouring Soleros on doorsteps, had me curious to see what lay behind her front door.
I wasn’t disappointed. From the moment we met, conversation flowed – that easy rhythm you fall into when two people are keen to learn what the other one’s about. Isabel’s work is present throughout her home: bold but calm, full of colour without shouting. It catches the eye without demanding attention.
Her studio is a concentrated version of that energy – a space thick with life. There are drawings by her children, postcards from Kettle’s Yard, and a bookshelf stacked with titles like Swimming Pools in Photography, The Secret Art of Dorothy Hepworth, and Small Worlds by Martin Parr. Together, they map something of a visual language – a wonderful home to her inspiration.
As ever, I feel it’s an honour to meet women who are not only talented, but who have chosen to focus their gifts on a venture as ravishing as this. I’m continually delighted by the creativity that erupts across the UK, and Isabel is a most welcome addition to that ever-expanding community.
Have textiles and design always played a role in your life, or did that interest develop over time?
I have always loved working with fabric. Although I did study furniture making, I have never been precise enough for wood and metal. Working in textiles means you can unpick and remake.
My Italian grandmother has always been a big inspiration for me. She taught me to knit when I was 7. She was a designer in Milan and then London and she worked a lot in textiles. She didn’t make things commercially, but for her home. One of her projects was designing and screenprinting a series of cushions, one for each new year. I have a few in my home now and they are amongst my most important possessions.
We live in a flat and so having space to make can be a challenge. But a sewing machine is a bit like a laptop, you can set it up anywhere, and take it down when you’re finished. I use the vertical space - the windows, walls and stairwell - to hang and lay out my designs.
Small children has meant being at home a lot and to some extent working in textiles grew out of what was possible in the space.
When did momentum start to build? Was there a moment that made you certain this was the direction to take?
I have been balancing my work in education with making for the last year. It is exciting to feel the balance shift from textiles as the thing I do in my evenings, to now being the focus of my work.
Confidence and identity can be so inextricably linked. Making the shift has been much more about how I feel projecting this new choice to the world, than it has about any particular project. The more work I make, the more those around me see me as a maker. That in turn, has a big impact on the way I see myself.
Do you notice yourself coming back to particular colours, materials, or objects in your work?
I love brown in all its shades, and especially as it shows up in nature. That’s largely why I work with natural dyes.
I prefer to work with materials that already have a history of their own. I use old sails, tablecloths, and bedsheets. The marks of time and former uses are important to me. Reusing and working from what is left creates restrictions that I find helpful.
Whose work, which places, or what books have shaped your sense of taste over time?
I am most interested in domestic spaces - how people have chosen to impose their aesthetic on their everyday.
The island of Elba is also important. My dad lives here, and my grandmother before him, so it’s where I spent a lot of time growing up. I am living and making from here at the moment. The house is an old vineyard store near the sea and everything is very simple and beautiful. The shower
is a hose outside, there are lamps made from old oars and anchors found on the beach and the floor is decorated - all by my grandmother - with pebbles from the sea laid into the cement.
Do you have a dream project or collaboration you’d love to make happen one day?
Working on a larger scale would be a fun challenge. I would also like to make spaces out of textiles - a four poster bed, a tent, a bedroom or any kind of space where the architecture is defined by fabric. Maybe inspired by Carla Accardi’s clear plastic structures which she decorated with abstract shapes.
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