Activist, writer, and visual storyteller Aditi Mayer has long used her platform to spotlight the intersection of sustainability, style, and social justice.

In this interview, she shares her approach to curating a life and creative practice grounded in intention and cultural connection - qualities she's incorporated into her platform The Artisan Archive.

From her reflections on slow creation and conscious curation to the influence of her South Asian heritage, Aditi invites us to rethink the way we engage with art, objects, and the world around us.

How do you approach conscious curation in your work with The Artisan Archive?

Over the years, I’ve had the opportunity to trace supply chains and craft ecologies across the world—from handloom weaving clusters in India, to shea butter cooperatives in Northern Ghana, to native cotton farming communities in Peru. What I found time and time again was a shared precarity—of knowledge systems that are at risk of disappearing, not because they lack value, but because the systems surrounding them have failed to protect, honor, or invest in them.

The Artisan Archive was born out of the desire to document and defend these living histories. It’s both a storytelling platform and a design initiative. On one hand, we’re archiving the cultural, ecological, and political frameworks that shape craft traditions—looking at them not as static folklore, but as dynamic systems of resilience.

How is The Artisan Archive ensuring the longevity of the creatives' craft?

Our flagship impact project is rooted in Punjab, India—where we’re working to revive the native cotton ecology and the rich craft ecosystem that has long surrounded it.

About four years ago, while in India as a National Geographic fellow, I was documenting the decline of native cotton varieties in the region. In that process, I met an elder who had quietly safeguarded indigenous cotton seeds for over 40 years, witnessing their disappearance in real time. From that encounter, a restoration effort began: we identified those ancestral seeds, and began cultivating them through a network of local farmers committed to regenerative, organic practices.

But cotton has never existed in isolation. Traditionally, it was the heart of an interconnected system—passed from hand to hand, spinner to weaver, thread to tapestry—largely upheld by women. That understanding led to the creation of our weaving school, now in its second year.

We began by identifying female elders who still had their spinning wheels, looms, and—most importantly—the desire to pass on their knowledge. The school has since become a site of intergenerational exchange, cultural continuity, and economic opportunity.

Looking ahead, we’re building the capacity of the school by forming alliances with designers and brands who believe in championing handwoven textiles—alongside the story of land, lineage, and revival they carry. We’ll also be launching our own product drops: think artisanal merch with soul.

All of this serves a threefold mission: economic dignity, cultural preservation, and climate-aligned scalability.

This project is rooted in preservation—but equally in evolution. A way to ensure these legacies not only survive, but actively shape how we imagine the future of fashion, design, and culture.

What do you consider “art”?

For me, art has always been about intentionality—whether it’s a photograph, a piece of jewelry, a woven textile, or even the architecture of community. It’s less about the medium and more about the meaning.

Has your definition shifted as you’ve explored different mediums and traditions?

As I’ve deepened my engagement with artisanal traditions across geographies, my understanding of art has expanded. I’ve come to see it not just as an object of aesthetic value, but as a living archive of culture, memory, labor, and legacy. It holds intergenerational knowledge, ecological relationships, and social context.

So yes, my definition has shifted—from viewing art as a finished product to understanding it as a practice, a pedagogy, and often, a reflection and response to the times we live in.

 What excites you most about the future of artisanal work, slow fashion, slow art, and sustainability?

What excites me is the reclamation of narrative and power. For too long, craft and culture have been extracted and aestheticized by systems that divorce them from their roots. But today, there’s a rising movement of artisans, designers, and storytellers who are challenging that extractive model—centering reciprocity, transparency, and co-creation instead.

In the future of slow fashion and artisanal work, I see a shift from consumption to connection. I see people honoring the hands behind what they wear and use, understanding the ecosystems involved, and supporting economies rooted in care rather than scale. There’s also an exciting redefinition of innovation—not as something that requires constant newness, but as the ability to sustain and regenerate what already exists.

In essence, what excites me most is that this work allows us to imagine futures that are not only beautiful, but just.

FOLLOW ADITI

@aditimayer @theartisanarchive

Photography by Simrah Farrukh