Pauline Ferrières on Why Ancestral Craft Needs Economic Logic to Survive
Pauline Ferrières is a French art director and cultural curator and creative entrepreneur who traded the conventional creative path for something far more meaningful. In 2019, drawn by a deep fascination with ancestral wisdom and a belief that design can be a force for good, she co-founded DEYI (德逸) — an ethical studio born at the crossroads of Paris, Madrid, and Beijing with collaboration of Zhang Xing, interior designer, and Adriana Cagigas textile researcher and fashion designer. Through years of patient relationship-building with Dong and Miao artisan communities in the mountains of Guizhou, Southwest China, Pauline has woven together a living ecosystem that honours indigenous textile heritage while reimagining it for the contemporary world.
Related article: Interview Yang Yi, Dong artisan part of DEYI collective
She is the curator behind Meaningful Threads, a transformative immersive journey that has brought creatives from fourteen countries to live, create, and slow down alongside these remarkable communities. The experience is designed for creatives and curious minds seeking to connect with indigenous artisanal traditions of the Dong and Miao peoples.Beyond the personal experience, the program supports the DEYI textile cooperative, providing sustainable income to artisan families in rural Guizhou and helping preserve endangered textile traditions threatened by modernization and fast fashion.
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Can you tell us about yourself? What inspired you to move to China?
My name is Pauline Ferrières, I am 29 years old, and I come from a small town in the south of France. I have always felt a deep sensitivity to culture and to the ways in which we relate to the world through language, arts, and traditions. I was first introduced to Chinese culture through the language when I was about fifteen years old, in high school. Learning Chinese was a true revelation for me. It is a language that is inherently poetic, where each character carries layers of meaning. It invited me to perceive reality differently and to approach understanding in a more holistic way. This encounter marked a turning point in my life. From that moment on, I knew that I wanted to build a path connected to China. I later pursued studies in arts and cultural management in France and in the United States, always with the intention of working at the intersection of culture, creation, and transmission. I moved to China in 2018, driven by a very intuitive and heartfelt calling to experience the culture from within.
At first, I worked in an art center in Beijing, which became a gateway to many meaningful encounters. I had the chance to meet masters of tea, calligraphy, and traditional arts. These encounters were not only professional, they were deeply transformative on a personal level. Through them, I began to understand that Chinese culture is not only something to observe or study, but something to live and embody. It is a culture rooted in a long continuity, where knowledge is transmitted through practice, through gesture, and through a deep relationship with nature. Since then, my connection to China has continued to deepen. It is a culture of immense richness, and what fascinates me is that there is always more to discover. The more you learn, the more you realize how much remains to be understood. This constant unfolding continues to inspire me profoundly in my work today.
DEYI was founded in 2019 in Beijing. What solutions were you personally trying to respond to at that moment?
DEYI was founded in 2019, at a moment when I felt a strong need to align my personal path with a deeper purpose. I already knew that I did not see myself working within a traditional corporate structure. I felt the desire to create something of my own, something that could carry meaning and contribute to a broader cultural dialogue. At that time, I was also becoming increasingly aware of a gap between the way China was represented in the West and the reality I was experiencing on the ground. In Europe especially, the narratives around China often felt very limited, reduced to economic growth, geopolitical tensions, or simplified cultural clichés. What I was encountering in China was something entirely different. I was discovering a civilization with thousands of years of history, deeply rooted in a relationship with nature, with a refined understanding of balance, cycles, and the interconnectedness of life.
I felt that this dimension was largely absent from dominant narratives, and I wanted to contribute to sharing a more nuanced and embodied perspective. DEYI emerged from this intention to create a new narrative. Not only about China, but about how ancestral knowledge systems can still inform and nourish contemporary ways of living and creating. Through our work, we aim to highlight the richness of traditional craftsmanship, particularly in regions like Guizhou, where textile practices are deeply connected to community life, spirituality, and ecological cycles. These practices are not only aesthetic expressions, they are carriers of knowledge, of memory, and of ways of relating to the living world. In a time where many of these traditions are under threat due to industrialization and fast consumption, DEYI was also a response to the urgency of preservation. But rather than preserving in a static way, we wanted to create bridges between tradition and contemporary creation, allowing these crafts to continue evolving and finding their place in today’s world. At its core, DEYI is an attempt to reconnect creation with meaning, and to offer a different way of engaging with culture, one that is rooted in respect, transmission, and long-term relationships.
Pauline Ferrières moves between cultures with ease, guided by the conviction: that the most urgent creative act today is learning to listen to what ancient hands already know.
How did you meet and how did the collaboration come about? How do three different cultural backgrounds become a strength, and how has working together changed your individual practices?
DEYI was founded by three individuals coming from very different backgrounds: Zhang Xing, a Chinese interior designer; Adriana Cagigas, a Spanish fashion designer and textile researcher; and myself. I met Zhang Xing in Beijing in 2018, when he was the designer and artistic director of the art center where I was working. Through this collaboration, we started organizing workshops around Chinese culture, creating spaces for people to experience tea, craftsmanship, and traditional arts in a more immersive way. Around the same time, I discovered Adriana’s work through Instagram. She had founded a sustainable fashion brand inspired by Chinese aesthetics and philosophy. I was immediately drawn to her approach, which combined strong artistic sensitivity with a deep awareness of the environmental and social challenges within the fashion industry. We connected and quickly realized that we shared a common vision. This led us to travel together to the southwest of China, particularly in Guizhou and Guangxi, where we conducted research on indigenous textile traditions. These journeys were foundational. We encountered communities whose craftsmanship was incredibly rich, yet increasingly fragile. Our different cultural backgrounds naturally became a strength.
Each of us brought a unique perspective and set of skills. Adriana introduced a rigorous and visionary approach to sustainable design and circular economy. She helped me understand the broader systemic challenges of the fashion industry and the responsibility of designers within it. Zhang Xing, on the other hand, has been a profound teacher for me in terms of Chinese culture. Through tea practice and Chan philosophy, he has transmitted a way of relating to the world that is rooted in harmony, presence, and attention to subtle qualities. Personally, coming from a background in cultural management, working with them transformed my approach. It brought me closer to materiality, to the process of making, and to the embodied dimension of creation. Together, our collaboration is not only professional, it is also a continuous process of learning from one another. It is precisely in this dialogue between cultures, disciplines, and sensibilities that DEYI finds its strength and its depth.
As an entrepreneur based in Beijing, what did founding DEYI teach you about resilience?
DEYI was founded in 2019 as a Franco-Chinese project, at what we thought was the beginning of a new chapter. But very shortly after, the pandemic unfolded, and everything became uncertain. I found myself back in France, unable to return to China for almost three years due to the lockdown. This period was quite challenging. The project had just started, and suddenly the physical connection to the field, to the artisans, to the places that give meaning to our work, was cut off. Yet, in a way, this time also taught me something essential: to trust the process. To accept that not everything can be controlled, and to learn how to move with the flow of life rather than against it. Even from a distance, I continued to share the stories of the Dong women artisans, to keep the connection alive in another form. And over time, I understood that resilience is not only about persistence, but also about trust, patience, and adaptation. But more than anything, the deepest lessons in resilience have come from the artisans themselves. Many of the Dong women we work with have lived through very difficult conditions. Some grew up in extreme poverty, even experiencing periods of famine. Many did not have access to education and remain illiterate today. And yet, what strikes me every time I am with them is their strength, their dignity, and their joy.
They are deeply rooted, supported by a strong connection to nature, to their ancestors, and to their spiritual beliefs. I also remember the floods that affected Guizhou last year. Despite the destruction and uncertainty, what I witnessed was not despair, but an incredible capacity to stand back up, to continue, to trust life. Their resilience is deeply tied to faith, faith in the cycles of nature, in the protection of their deities like Sama, and in the continuity of their lineage. This kind of grounded resilience, quiet yet powerful, has been one of my greatest sources of inspiration. It constantly reminds me to return to simplicity, to stay connected to what truly matters, and to move forward with humility and perseverance.
How do you build bridges between creative vision/intuition and business structure/strategy?
My background in cultural management gave me a solid foundation in project management, marketing, and strategy. It provided a framework that has been essential in structuring DEYI and allowing it to grow in a sustainable way. At the same time, DEYI was never conceived as a conventional business. From the beginning, it has been more of a living ecosystem than a fixed structure. Our intention was not to build a large-scale company, but to develop something independent, human-sized, and deeply aligned with our values. Today, we collaborate with around thirty indigenous women artisans, and our activities have naturally expanded over time. We create our own textile-based collections, we work with various designers by providing handwoven fabrics, and we also organize cultural immersions, artistic residencies, and research-based experiences. In that sense, the bridge between creative intuition and business strategy is not something we try to force. It emerges through practice, through listening, and through constant adjustment.
My role is often to bring clarity and structure, to translate ideas into concrete formats, offers, and systems that can sustain the project. But at the same time, we allow space for intuition, for evolution, and for transformation. Nothing is fixed. The project has already shifted significantly since its beginnings, from a focus on ethical fashion towards something much broader, a platform that connects craftsmanship, culture, philosophy, and ways of living. This approach is also influenced by Chinese philosophy, where change is seen as natural and necessary. Rather than resisting it, we try to move with it. The business structure supports the vision, but it does not confine it. Ultimately, what we are building is not only a design studio, but a bridge, between cultures, between ways of thinking, and between people. A space where creation can remain rooted in meaning while still finding its place in the contemporary world.
What does sustainability mean in your projects? What are the greatest everyday challenges you face in this path?
Sustainability is a word that is widely used today, sometimes to the point of becoming abstract or reduced to a marketing concept. But in the context of our work, sustainability is something very concrete, and above all, something deeply embodied. The Dong women artisans we collaborate with do not speak about sustainability as a concept, because it is simply the way they live. Their entire way of producing textiles is based on a respectful relationship with nature. From growing and harvesting cotton, to spinning, weaving, and dyeing with natural plants, everything is done by hand, without the use of chemicals, and in alignment with natural cycles. Nothing is wasted, everything is valued.
This is a form of sustainability that is not imposed, but inherited, transmitted through generations. However, sustainability is not only about environmental impact. It is also about whether these ways of living and creating can continue to exist in today’s world. And this is where the greatest challenges lie. Many of these communities are facing rural exodus. Younger generations are leaving villages to work in cities because traditional craftsmanship alone often does not provide sufficient income. At the same time, global markets are dominated by fast fashion and even ultra-fast fashion, which deeply affect both perception and consumption habits. One of our main challenges is therefore educational. Helping people understand the value of these textiles, why they have a certain price, and what it truly means to produce something by hand, with time, care, and dignity. We also work to shift perceptions around “Made in China.” Today, it is often associated in the West with mass production and low cost. But China also carries an extraordinary heritage of craftsmanship, refinement, and knowledge. Ultimately, the challenge is to reconnect people with a different relationship to objects, one that values quality over quantity, time over speed, and meaning over convenience. It is a long process, but a necessary one.
How do you see the relationship between sustainability and economy: how do they share their survival?
The relationship between sustainability and economy is, in many ways, at the heart of everything we are trying to address through DEYI. In the villages we work with, traditional ways of living and producing textiles were once part of a self-sustained economic system. These communities used to rely on textile craftsmanship not only as a cultural expression, but also as a core economic activity, exchanging fabrics for other goods and resources. However, with modernization and the rise of industrial production and fast fashion, this entire system has been disrupted. Today, even within these villages, most people wear factory-made clothing. The traditional textile economy can no longer sustain itself in its original form. This is where the question becomes essential: how can these ancestral practices survive within a contemporary economic framework?
Our role, and also our responsibility, is to help imagine and co-create new economic models that allow these crafts to continue existing. One of the ways we do this is by developing our own collections, working with clients who are willing to invest in handmade pieces, who understand their value, and who are sensitive to the story and the process behind them. But beyond product-based models, we are also expanding into experience-based economies. Through workshops, cultural immersions, and artistic residencies, we bring people into these villages. Participants are able to witness directly how these textiles are made, in a way that is deeply connected to nature, and that embodies principles of circular and regenerative design. These programs create alternative sources of income for the artisans and their families, while also helping to reduce rural exodus by allowing women to continue working from their homes and transmitting their knowledge. Ultimately, sustainability cannot exist without economic viability. If these women cannot make a living from their craft, these traditions will disappear. This is something they express very clearly themselves. As designers and creators, especially coming from more privileged contexts, we also carry a responsibility. Today, there are many examples of cultural appropriation in the design industry, where traditional motifs are borrowed or replicated without acknowledgment, without financial return, and without respect for their origins. For us, it is essential to work in a different way, one that is based on collaboration, fair compensation, and long-term commitment. Supporting these artisans is not only about preserving a heritage, it is about ensuring that they can continue to live with dignity through their craft. In that sense, sustainability and the economy are not opposed. They are deeply interdependent. The challenge is to design systems where both can support each other, and where cultural, ecological, and human values are not sacrificed for short-term profit.
You focus on ethical craftsmanship. How do you protect the “slow” soul of the brand while navigating the fast-paced demands of the modern market?
At its core, DEYI is built in opposition to the cult of speed, productivity, and constant growth that has shaped modern economies since the industrial revolution. Our approach is to consciously step outside of that dynamic and propose another way of creating, producing, and consuming. One that is rooted in respect for natural rhythms, for time, and for the living processes behind each piece. The textiles we work with are entirely handmade, from spinning to weaving to natural dyeing. These processes cannot be rushed. They depend on seasons, on climate conditions, on the availability of plants, and on the time and care of the artisans themselves. Rather than trying to adapt these processes to the expectations of the fast-paced market, we choose to do the opposite: we invite the market to adapt to these rhythms. This requires a strong educational dimension. Our clients understand that a handmade textile, dyed with natural plants, cannot follow the same timelines as an industrial product. They are willing to wait, because they recognize the value of what they are receiving, not only as an object, but as a process, a story, and a relationship. In that sense, slowness is not a limitation, it is a strength. It allows for a deeper level of intention, quality, and meaning. It reconnects creation to a sense of presence that is often missing in contemporary production systems. We also accept that this positioning places us slightly outside of dominant economic models. But this is precisely where the integrity of the project lies. We are not trying to scale endlessly or to follow trends. We are building something independent, coherent, and aligned with our values. In many ways, this approach carries an almost activist dimension. It is a way of questioning the systems we participate in, and of demonstrating that other ways of working and creating are possible. Protecting the “slow” soul of DEYI is therefore not about resisting the modern world, but about offering an alternative within it. A different tempo, a different relationship to time, and ultimately, a different vision of what value truly means.
Since you work closely with a cooperative of local women artisans, supporting their craftsmanship, economic independence, and cultural transmission, can you please share a story from behind that is meaningful for you?
Working with these women is truly a blessing for me. What touches me goes far beyond the richness and diversity of their craftsmanship. It is the spiritual dimension that infuses everything they do. The Dong and Miao communities we collaborate with carry a heritage shaped by both ancestral reverence and a deep connection to the natural world. Their daily lives are guided by a sense of continuity between the visible and the invisible, between human beings, nature, and the ancestors. For them, textile making is not simply a technical process. Spinning cotton, weaving, preparing natural dyes, each gesture is part of a larger relationship with life. It is a way of honoring those who came before them, and of maintaining a living connection with their lineage. They believe that when a garment is worn, it carries the energy of the ancestors, as well as the qualities of the plants used in the dyeing process. In that sense, these textiles become more than objects, they become forms of protection, almost like protective shields, holding and transmitting a subtle form of care. One moment that deeply stayed with me was witnessing the preparation of an indigo vat. Before beginning, the women performed a beautiful sacred ritual, making offerings and asking for the blessing of the ancestors. The indigo vat itself is treated like a living member of the family, something that needs to be respected, cared for, and nurtured. This relationship to matter, where everything is alive and interconnected, is something that has profoundly shifted my own perception. There is also a strong sense of sisterhood within these communities. Historically, these societies were organized around matriarchal structures, and even today, there is a deep spirit of mutual support among women. This solidarity is present not only in their daily lives, but also in the way knowledge is transmitted, shared, and preserved collectively. For me, this way of living and creating holds an important message. In a world that often feels disconnected and fragmented, these communities remind us of the importance of relationship, of care, and of belonging. It is a source of inspiration that goes far beyond craftsmanship itself.
Photos courtesy of DEYI
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