My Story
Where texture
meets energy
For as long as I can remember, I’ve been someone who curates — drawn to beautiful materials, textures, and the quiet art of bringing them together into something you can feel. Give me a quiet afternoon, some natural materials, and a spark of an idea, and I’m happy. There’s something in the rhythm of working with your hands — the selecting, the shaping, the stitching — that nothing else in life quite matches. It’s a sensory experience, from first touch to finished piece. Curating isn’t just what I do. It’s how I think, how I unwind, how I make sense of the world.
Tengology grew from that love. It started with wool felt: soft, honest, full of warmth. And it grew into something I never expected.
Chapter One
The wool felt years
I grew up watching my mother’s hands. She was the kind of person who was always making something — whatever craft was popular at the time, she’d be doing it. She used to take me to craft shops and fabric stores, and most of my childhood was spent in those two places. She even made clothes for my Barbie dolls by hand. That was my normal.
So when I first picked up a sheet of wool felt years later, something clicked. The way it holds its shape, the richness of its colour, the warmth of it between my fingers — it was a sensory experience before it was anything else. I began with hair accessories: bows, clips, headbands. Small things, but each one given the kind of attention that only someone who grew up in craft shops understands.
Before long, I was at craft shows across England, meeting the people who wore my pieces. Mothers buying clips for their daughters. Women choosing brooches to brighten a winter coat. Every conversation reminded me why I do this — to bring a little bit of handmade joy into someone’s day.
Chapter Two
Discovering gemstones
I remember the first time I felt crystal energy. I was young, visiting a crystal shop that had an enormous amethyst geode — the kind you could fit your whole arm inside. The shop owner asked me to place my hand inside. I felt something I’d never felt before: a tingling at my fingertips, almost like tiny needles pressing gently against my skin. A strange, subtle numbness. I was hooked.
When I was fifteen, I bought my first crystal — an amethyst pendant. I’d heard it could help with focus and studies, so I wore it to school every single day. And it did help. I felt calmer, more centred. I wore that amethyst right through to my final exams.
The day after my last exam, I was in the school bathroom and the chain simply snapped. The amethyst fell and was gone before I could catch it. I couldn’t get it back. But strangely, I wasn’t upset. It felt like the crystal was telling me its work was done — it had carried me through, and now it was time for it to go. That was the moment I understood that crystals aren’t just beautiful objects. They carry something. They hold intention, and when that intention is fulfilled, they move on.
Years later, when I began working with crystal beads — threading them into bracelets and necklaces, choosing each stone for its colour, its energy, its feel against the skin — I brought that belief with me. Every crystal has its own character. My job isn’t to overpower that. It’s to honour it, and to pass it on to someone who needs it.
Chapter Three
Batik & belonging
I was born in Sabah, Malaysia — right on the edge of Borneo, close enough to Indonesia that the cultures blend into one another. Growing up, Batik was everywhere. Not the Malaysian style most people picture, but Indonesian Batik — bolder, more intricate, with flowers and patterns that feel almost alive on the cloth.
When I moved to England, I carried that with me. And eventually I began to wonder: what if I could wear those patterns differently? I started cutting individual flowers from Batik fabric, adding tiny beads for detail, and turning them into earrings and brooches. Each piece is like preserving a small fragment of the culture I grew up in — something traditional, reimagined into something you can pin to a lapel or wear to dinner.
There’s a particular joy in working with Batik. The fabric is already a work of art — hand-stamped or hand-drawn by artisans. My role is to select the most beautiful sections and give them a second life as jewellery. It feels like a conversation between two sets of hands, separated by thousands of miles.
Chapter Four
My father’s
glass
My father ran a glass shop. I grew up surrounded by sheets of colour — light pouring through textured panes, casting patterns across the floor that shifted with the time of day. I didn’t think of it as beautiful back then. It was just the world I knew.
Years later, the idea arrived the way they always do: what if I could take leftover pieces of his begonia-patterned stained glass and turn them into something wearable? I began cutting the glass into small shapes — teardrops, circles, petals — and using traditional stained glass soldering techniques to set them into earrings and pendants.
Every piece in this collection carries something of my father’s trade in it. The glass has texture you can feel under your fingertips, and when light passes through it, it glows the way I remember it glowing in his shop. Of all the things I create, this is the collection closest to my heart.
The Thread
What connects
everything
Wool felt, crystals, Batik, stained glass — people sometimes ask how they all belong together. To me, the answer has always been obvious: every collection starts with a material that means something. Something I’ve touched, grown up with, or inherited.
Wool felt is the warmth I found in England. Crystals are the earth’s quiet energy. Batik is the culture I carried with me from Sabah. Stained glass is my father’s legacy. They’re different materials, but they arrive in my hands the same way — with their own texture, colour, and story — and they leave as something personal, something you choose to wear because it means something to you.
That’s what Tengology is really about. Not a category of product, but a way of curating — selecting meaningful materials and shaping them by hand into pieces that are designed to be felt as much as they are seen. Every piece is a sensory experience, and every one is designed and crafted by hand in England.
What I believe in
Materials
Wool felt in two weights — 100% wool, and a 40% wool blend where a colour or a shape calls for it. Natural crystal and stone, batik and floral cotton, and glass I cut and solder myself. I would rather name exactly what a piece is made from than round it up.
Intention
Every piece begins with purpose. From the colour I choose to the stone I select, nothing is random. I want you to feel that intention the moment it touches your skin.
Energy
I believe handmade things carry the energy of the person who shaped them. Each piece passes through my hands with care, focus, and a genuine wish for whoever receives it.
Craftsmanship
No machines, no mass production. Just patient, skilled handwork. The small imperfections aren’t flaws — they’re proof that a real person made this, just for you.
Come and see for yourself
Whether you’re drawn to the softness of wool felt or the quiet power of crystals, there’s something here that was made with you in mind.