You started Joy Spread after teaching yourself to sculpt candles you couldn’t find anywhere else. What were you looking for that didn’t exist, and how did those six months of experimentation shape how you approach design now?

Most candles I found focused almost entirely on scent. The vessel was usually just a container, often a generic, mass-produced ceramic or glass form with a branded label attached. I felt the vessel itself was paid no attention to.

I believed the vessel could carry as much meaning and intention as the scent inside it. I wanted to create candles where the vessel tells its own story, is visually striking, and remains something worth keeping even after the candle has burned down.

The first six months were pure experimentation. I was learning about materials, hand-sculpting, making molds, surface finishes, and failing constantly along the way. I started completely from scratch and did not know even the basics. I simply began and figured things out through doing. That period shaped how I still work today. I trust my intuition, explore materials and methods freely, and rely on trial and error rather than predefined outcomes. Much of my approach now comes directly from that early phase of learning by doing.

Joy Spread began as a partnership between you and Suki Leuang, merging sculptural form with fragrance. How did you two meet, and what made you realize combining your approaches could become something bigger?

Suki and I met long before Joy Spread. We’re a couple and previously ran a curated gift box business together. Through that, we sourced candles from other brands and noticed the same gap again and again: candles with nice scent but boring, mass-produced vessels.

Suki has always been deeply interested in scent, while I naturally gravitated toward sculptural forms. It felt natural to divide responsibilities that way. She leads fragrance development, I lead design. The goal was simple: create candles that are visually striking, meaningful, and excellent in scent.

Many of your pieces like the Reborn Candle and The Fearless draw from Ancient Roman architecture and symbolism. What draws you to these historical references, and how do you translate concepts like broken columns or Roman heroes into candles?

My work usually starts with an emotion, experience, or belief that I want to translate into a physical object. From there, I think about how it could exist in physical form. Because this process is deeply personal, my design inspirations often are as well.

I have always been drawn to Ancient Roman architecture. One early memory that stayed with me was a childhood trip to Italy. One night, we sneaked out, found a ruin in the middle of a watermelon field, and sat on it while eating watermelon under the stars. It was a magical night and that contrast of decay, nature and stillness left a deep impression on me.

My first piece, White Island, marked a turning point for me. I started working on it without a plan or clear intention, simply sculpting plaster instinctively. At that point, I was frustrated after many failed attempts where nothing seemed to work. Then, almost by accident, this piece emerged through my hands. It might look like a simple rock to some, but to me it felt complete and deeply beautiful.

It was the moment I realized I was not just designing candle vessels, but expressing something personal through sculpting forms.

Your studio functions as a creative lab but also becomes a living room some nights, with dinner, candles, and friends gathered around. How does this relationship to candlelight and gathering show up in the pieces you create?

We have hosted private candlelight dinners for friends before, and through those moments I noticed how sculpture combined with candlelight can completely change the atmosphere of a space. Candlelight has a way of slowing things down, sharpening focus, and softening the environment. It encourages people to disconnect from the outside world and feel fully present.

More recently, I started thinking about how to take that experience further. This led to the idea of creating full-scale installations dedicated to candlelight and gathering. Imagine a dark room with a single sculptural table as the centerpiece, guests seated around it, the floor covered in sand and surrounded by hundreds of flames. No artificial light, only candlelight paired with good food and wine.

The first candlelight art installation is already in progress, with a seven-foot sculpture as its centerpiece. It is an experience designed not only for our community, but also as a way to collaborate with other creatives, brands, and venues.

You’re now pioneering 3D printing with quartz sand, binding sand particles layer by layer to create stone-like forms. What led you to explore this technique, and what new possibilities has it opened up for your work?

Since I started teaching myself in 2021, I have constantly explored materials, from concrete and ceramics to marble and bronze. Each has its strengths, but also clear limitations. Because my work is sculptural and massive, many materials either become too heavy, too restrictive, or impossible to execute at the level of detail I want.

3D printing in sand allows for complex geometries, deep voids, and forms that would be extremely difficult, or impossible, to create otherwise. What I find especially compelling is that it feels like stone, whereas most 3D printed materials feel artificial or plastic. In a way, it is like 3D printing stone, which makes sense since stone itself is essentially compressed sand.

The printing process is only the first step. Each piece goes through extensive post-processing by hand, from surface work to finishing techniques that shape its final character. Through this process, the material can become even stronger than concrete, which makes it especially suitable for my work. The technique also opens new possibilities for customization. Forms can be adjusted digitally and produced individually, while the hand-finishing ensures that each piece still feels crafted rather than industrial.

Coming from no design background, you’ve developed everything from the sculptural forms to your own finishing techniques. What’s been the biggest challenge or breakthrough in teaching yourself these processes?

The biggest challenge in the beginning was the lack of information. When I started, I was constantly looking for answers to very specific technical problems and there was very little guidance available. I spent a lot of time experimenting, failing, and trying to understand things through trial and error.

One of the biggest breakthroughs came when I managed to create silicone molds for my first hand-sculpted pieces. One form in particular was extremely challenging, but succeeding meant that we could produce everything in-house, from the vessel to the finished candle, without relying on external manufacturers. That moment changed everything.

Today, the challenge has shifted toward feasibility. You can have a strong idea, but execution is where most concepts fail. Learning to balance ambition with what is technically and practically possible has become one of the most important parts of my process.

Beyond your home fragrance collection, you’re now creating bespoke installations and sculptural furniture for architects and brands. How do you see Joy Spread evolving as you move from individual candles to larger commissions?

We started by rethinking the candle as a sculptural object. Over time, my thinking evolved from designing individual pieces to exploring how these objects could exist more strongly in space. As a result, the works naturally became larger, and I began applying the same ideas to other areas, such as furniture.

Most furniture is designed to disappear into a space. Sculptures, on the other hand, are meant to be looked at, but not touched. Functional art sits in between. I am interested in creating objects that carry the presence of a sculpture, but are meant to be used, gathered around, and lived with. That way of thinking led me to what I call sculptural candle tables.

More recently, I felt the desire to move beyond objects and create experiences. That led me to candlelight art installations, which I am very excited about. I want candlelight dinners to become a recognizable part of our studio practice, almost like a traveling installation format that we can host in different places around the world.

Your motto is “Transform the ordinary into something extraordinary.” What’s an example of something truly ordinary—a material, a moment, or even a mistake—that became extraordinary through your process?

I’m glad you mention material, because materials are often overlooked. Since starting this journey, I have learned to slow down and look at materials more closely, to question them and explore their potential.

Sand is one of the most ordinary materials imaginable. It is everywhere and essential to our infrastructure, yet we rarely pay attention to it. By merging simple grains of sand together, it becomes something eye-catching, intentional and meaningful. What is usually seen as insignificant turns into something sculptural and enduring.

That transformation, of taking something as seemingly simple as sand and giving it a new life, is a perfect example of what I mean by turning the ordinary into something extraordinary.