When the 'Women, Life, Freedom' movement swept through Iran in September 2022, in response to the death of Mahsa Amini who was arrested by Iran’s morality police for not wearing her headscarf properly, it sparked something in us that we couldn’t ignore. Living in Sydney, myself and many other Iranians were consumed by a mix of emotions, pride, anger, helplessness and a deep, lingering guilt for not being there on the streets. We felt disconnected, far from the women risking everything, and knew we had to find a way to turn that guilt into action. Crafted Liberation became a way to heal, a bridge between us and our sisters in Iran.
It started with a question: how can we amplify these women’s stories? We realised we could give a physical form to their resistance. We put out a call for action, asking Iranian women around the world to send us their discarded headscarves. To our surprise, the scarves flooded in from around the world. Each one came wrapped in someone’s history – a fabric that had been part of their lives, now entrusted to us. Holding them was humbling; their weight wasn’t just physical but emotional.
Turning these scarves into something meaningful was no easy task. With my RK Collective co-founder, Chris Krainer, we spent months in the studio developing the Crafted Liberation project alongside our partners and manufacturers, testing, failing and trying again. The scarves were layered with waste plastic, pressed, moulded and refined. We cracked materials, ruined moulds and sometimes worked days on something that didn’t hold. But every time we thought about stopping, we remembered why we started. Eventually we landed on a material that was strong, lightweight and, most importantly, told a story.
The material was transformed into objects resembling stadium seats. We chose the stadium seat because it carries profound symbolism. In Iran, women have been banned from stadiums for decades – spaces meant to unite and celebrate collective experiences have instead become stark reminders of exclusion. By transforming discarded headscarves into stadium seats, we aimed to reclaim that narrative, turning a symbol of suppression into one of empowerment and belonging.
As the seats came to life, they became more than just objects; they became vessels of resistance, shaped by the courage of those who had sent their scarves. The heart of this project, though, wasn’t just in the material. It was in the people. The women who donated their scarves. The stories they shared. Sitting in a room in November last year, capturing their words on camera for our Crafted Liberation exhibition at Australian Design Centre in Sydney, the air was electric. There was grief, of course, but also so much pride and defiance.
Seeing our work assembled for the exhibition felt surreal. The seats stood proud, like a chorus of voices. It wasn’t just about the objects – it was about the stories. We spent days in the gallery setting up, capturing videos and curating moments of connection. Women’s voices filled the space as their stories were projected on video alongside the seats. On opening night, the room buzzed with energy as people stopped, listened and connected with the voices of resilience.
But this is only the beginning. As RK Collective, we believe Crafted Liberation belongs in the world, not just in galleries. We’re dreaming of placing these seats in public spaces, cultural institutions and places where people come together, places where everyone belongs. These aren’t just chairs; they’re spaces for dialogue, connection and change.
For us, Crafted Liberation isn’t only about design. It’s about creating a movement, a place where stories of resilience inspire collective action, and where people are reminded that no one is truly alone in their fight for freedom.
Crafted Liberation is showing at Australian Design Centre in Darlinghurst, Sydney until Wednesday 19 February 2025.
