Lately, I’ve been spending a lot of time looking backwards in order to move forward creatively.
As part of my ongoing pattern-design studies, I’ve been exploring two motifs with very long decorative histories: paisleys and rosettes. They’re forms we’ve all probably seen countless times—on textiles, scarves, wallpaper, rugs, ceramics and fashion—but once you actually sit down and try to draw them, you begin to notice just how much possibility exists inside these familiar shapes.
And, naturally, I had to see what would happen when I interpreted them through artkohaus. 😊
The Paisley: One Shape, Endless Possibilities
There is something wonderfully addictive about drawing a paisley.
At its simplest, the motif begins with that familiar curved teardrop or boteh-like silhouette. But the outer shape is really only the beginning. The fun happens inside.
For my paisley studies, I started treating each shape almost like its own tiny canvas. I filled them with leaves, petals, curls, dots, scallops, little geometric borders and botanical details. Even though they share the same basic silhouette, each one developed its own personality.
Some became delicate and botanical. Others became much more decorative and elaborate.
And apparently I have very little ability to leave an empty space alone. 😂
What I particularly love about paisleys is their sense of movement. The curved tip gives the motif direction, so when several paisleys are arranged together in a repeat, they can appear to swirl, tumble or dance across the surface.
That makes them especially interesting for textiles, where the pattern can become part of the movement of the fabric itself.
Then Came the Rosettes…
Rosettes gave me a completely different design challenge.
Where paisleys feel fluid and directional, rosettes are wonderfully structured. They grow outward from a central point, with petals and decorative elements repeating around the centre.
I began experimenting with different constructions—layering petals, leaves, scallops and small ornamental details around a central flower.
Some of my rosettes became quite geometric. Others feel more floral. And a few landed somewhere between a flower, a medallion and a tiny piece of decorative architecture.
That is one of the things I’m beginning to appreciate more and more about historical ornament: a motif doesn’t necessarily have to represent something literally.
A flower can become geometry.
Geometry can become a flower.
And repetition can transform both into something entirely new.
From Motif Studies to Foulard Patterns
Once I had a little collection of paisleys and rosettes, the inevitable question appeared:
What happens if I turn these into repeating patterns?
That led me into another area I’ve been exploring recently—foulard-style pattern design.
Traditionally associated with small, orderly repeating motifs, foulard patterns often have a beautiful rhythm to them. Individual motifs may be quite detailed, but when they’re reduced in scale and repeated across a surface, they create something that feels cohesive and surprisingly sophisticated.
My rosettes eventually became the foundation for Rosette Society, while my paisley drawings opened up another playground entirely—colour, spacing, rotation, scale and all the little decisions that can completely change the personality of a repeat.
I’ve especially been imagining these designs on scarves, where the smaller ornamental motifs can really come alive across the fabric.
Learning the Rules So I Can Play With Them
One thing I’m enjoying about studying traditional pattern forms is realizing that learning their history doesn’t restrict creativity—it gives you more vocabulary to work with.
Paisleys, rosettes, ogees, foulards and other ornamental forms have been interpreted by designers and craftspeople for generations. I’m not interested in simply recreating what has already existed.
I want to understand why these forms work.
How does the eye travel through them?
Why does a certain arrangement feel balanced?
What happens when a centuries-old motif is drawn by a contemporary designer, given an unexpected colour palette and placed onto something completely different?
Those questions are becoming an important part of how I approach pattern making at artkohaus.
And perhaps that is what I love most about studying ornament.
These motifs may be old.
But the possibilities are nowhere near exhausted.
— Cecile
Lead Surface Pattern Designer, artkohaus
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