In the hands of Ayomikun Lasaki, yarn is not merely a material for garments-it is a language for living stories. As the founder and creative mind behind Knots by Ayomikun Lasaki (KAL), the Nigerian crochet artist has pioneered a distinct visual signature that bridges the gap between global pop culture, anime, high fashion, and structural textile art.
What began as personal experimentation under Aj’s Knots has evolved into an internationally recognized creative practice. By taking beloved cultural references-from Dragon Ball to One Piece-and translating them into complex, sculptured wearables, Lasaki is challenging long-held perceptions about traditional domestic craft. Through 100-plus-hour masterworks, mentorship programs, and a growing international audience, she is positioning crochet as both modern statement fashion and fine art.
In this interview with IFEOMA OKEKE-KORIEOCHA, Lasaki opens up about the internal shift behind her brand’s evolution, the technical mechanics of balancing fluid textiles with rigid forms, and why the future of her craft lies in storytelling over replication.
What shifted internally that prompted the transition from Aj’s Knots to KAL?
The shift was really about realizing that what I was building had become bigger than the name I started with. Aj’s Knots was very much connected to me learning crochet, experimenting, and figuring out what I could do with the medium. But over time, I became much more intentional about why I was making certain pieces, how I was interpreting references, and what I wanted people to feel when they encountered the work. I became less interested in simply asking, ‘What can I crochet?’ and more interested in asking, ‘What can I make people feel with crochet?’ That shift is what KAL represents for me. Knots, to me, represent stories and important moments – whether they come from animation, pop culture, or people’s own lives. So KAL became about storytelling through me, for people, with crochet. The name changed, but more importantly, my relationship with the work changed. I started seeing crochet not just as a technique, but as the medium through which I could build a much larger creative world.
How would you describe your visual signature?
I think the easiest way to describe it is that I take things people already have an emotional relationship with and translate them into crochet. A lot of my work starts from something recognizable – anime, football, music, cartoons, science fiction, pop culture – but I don’t want the final piece to feel like a printed image transferred onto crochet. I want the material itself to become part of the interpretation. So my visual language is really a combination of recognizable references, strong colour relationships, texture, scale and construction. Sometimes the reference is immediately obvious; other times, it takes a second to understand what you’re looking at. I like that moment between recognition and discovery. You see the piece first, and then you realize what it is connected to.
How do you redefine crochet as modern statement fashion and fine art?
I don’t really approach it as trying to prove that crochet can be something other than what it has traditionally been. Crochet already has that history, and I think that history is valuable. For me, the interesting question is what happens when you take that same medium and apply it to ideas, scales and contexts that people don’t necessarily associate with it. A crochet piece can be functional, but it can also be sculptural. It can exist on the body, but it can also exist on a wall. It can reference something from popular culture while still functioning as a textile artwork in its own right. So I don’t think crochet is the subject of the work. It’s the medium. The storytelling, construction, colour, texture and scale are what allow me to push it into fashion, art and other spaces. I’m interested in what happens when something traditionally associated with domestic craft enters a contemporary visual and cultural conversation.
How do you translate anime characters and motifs without making them feel like cosplay?
I think the key is interpretation rather than replication. If I’m inspired by a character, sometimes I use their face on the piece I’m creating, but I don’t just paste it onto the garment. I design the piece in a way that is fashionable and intentional, and I take attributes from the character and incorporate them into the design. For example, the Goku vest I made was intentionally a vest – and specifically a V-neck vest – because I wanted the person wearing it to feel like Goku from Dragon Ball while wearing it. I wanted the design to allow them to show off their biceps, because that is part of the physicality I associate with the character. And sometimes, I’m not interested in putting the character’s face directly onto a piece at all. I might take their colour palette, silhouette, personality, symbolism or a particular visual element and translate that through the construction of the piece. That’s why two pieces inspired by the same anime character can look completely different. One might make the character the focal point, while another might only reveal its reference through colour or details. I want the person wearing the piece to feel like they’re wearing fashion that happens to carry a story they love, rather than wearing a costume of that story. The reference can be very obvious or very quiet. Both are valid. What matters to me is that the final piece still feels like a considered piece of fashion or textile art.
Can you share a story about a wearer or client connecting personally with a piece?
One of my favourite examples was a client who commissioned a dress inspired by Trafalgar Law from One Piece. She loved the character so much that she actually called him her husband. She told me that when she looked at the dress, she wanted to be able to see his face. At the same time, her favourite colour was pink, and she really wanted pink incorporated into the piece. That was an interesting design challenge because pink isn’t really part of Trafalgar Law’s visual identity. His character has a much darker, more rugged visual language, so I had to figure out how to bring those two worlds together without compromising either of them. I went to the drawing board and designed the dress around both ideas – the character she loved and the colour that represented her. The result became this really dramatic, red-carpet-worthy piece that still felt personal to her.
She loved it so much that she eventually came back and commissioned more animeinspired pieces. That experience really reinforced something I love about this kind of work: I’m not just recreating a character. I’m taking something that already has emotional meaning for someone and translating it into something that is uniquely theirs.
How do colour and stitch techniques communicate concepts in the Crochet Archive?
I use colour almost like a visual vocabulary. A colour can separate two personalities, create contrast, or make two sides of a piece feel connected even when they’re visually different. Stitch techniques do something similar. Changes in density, texture, direction and structure can create contrast without having to explain the concept literally. The idea comes first, and then I ask myself what the material can do to communicate it.
What does your workflow look like on 100+ hour projects?
The first part is actually very slow because I spend a lot of time thinking before I start making. I’ll break down the reference or concept, think about the proportions, colours, construction and the technical problems I might encounter. Once I understand what the piece needs to do, I can start translating that into crochet. The physical process is repetitive, but mentally I’m constantly making decisions. I’m checking proportions, thinking about how one section connects to another, testing whether a particular technique gives me the texture or structure I need.
With a project that takes over 100 hours, consistency becomes very important. You can’t rely on motivation for that long. You need a process. There are definitely moments where the work becomes physically tiring, but there’s also something satisfying about seeing something that existed only as an idea gradually become a physical object stitch by stitch.
How do you balance fluid garments with rigid sculptural forms?
That’s one of the more technical parts of the work because crochet naturally has movement and flexibility, while a sculptural element might need to hold a very specific shape. I have to think about the garment almost like a structure rather than just a flat textile. Where does the weight sit? How does it move with the body? Where does it need reinforcement? What happens when someone actually walks, sits or moves in it? Sometimes the solution is in the stitch itself. Sometimes it’s in how different sections are joined or layered. I’m always trying to find that balance where the technical construction supports the visual idea without becoming visible as a technical solution. The final piece should feel intentional rather than like I’m fighting against the material.
What role do material choices play?
Material choice is part of the visual language.Yarn weight changes the scale and presence of a piece. Texture can make something feel soft, graphic, heavy or almost sculptural. Fibre composition affects how the piece falls, stretches and behaves on the body. So I don’t necessarily choose a material simply because it’s the easiest one to crochet with. I think about what the material needs to communicate and how it needs to behave once the piece is finished. For a pop-culture reference, that becomes especially important because I’m translating something that may originally exist as animation, illustration or photography into a physical textile object. The material is what bridges that gap.
What do you prioritize when mentoring emerging fiber artists?
One of the biggest things I try to teach is that technique is only one part of being a creative. Obviously, you need to know how to make things well. But I also want people to understand why they’re making something, how to develop their own visual language, how to solve problems when a technique doesn’t work, and how to keep improving instead of simply repeating what they already know. I also encourage experimentation. A lot of growth happens when you try out new things and allow yourself to make mistakes in the process. Especially for emerging artists, I think it’s important to develop both the hands and the eye. The technical ability allows you to execute an idea, but the eye is what helps you develop ideas worth executing.
How has documenting your journey online affected your trajectory?
Social media has allowed people to see the process behind the work rather than only seeing the finished object. When you’re working with crochet, people can look at a finished piece and not necessarily understand how much thought or manual work went into it. Showing the process makes that labour visible. People see the sketches, experiments, mistakes, progress and eventually the finished piece. It’s also helped me understand that the audience isn’t just watching the work – they’re part of the feedback loop. Sometimes someone’s reaction to a piece gives me a perspective I hadn’t considered. Commercially, that visibility has also opened doors to custom commissions, collaborations, training opportunities and conversations with people outside my immediate environment. But probably the biggest impact has been that documenting the journey has made the evolution of my work visible. People aren’t just seeing KAL as a finished brand. They’re seeing an artist develop in real time.