Photo by Zayira Ray

Misha Japanwala, one of fashion’s rising stars, isn’t designing traditional flowy gowns or tailored suits. As she put it, she is not here to make “pretty clothes.”

Rather, the Pakistani artist and designer has garnered attention from some of the most prominent industry figures for her daring body sculptures that are equal parts fashion and art. To date, the designer has created custom creations for the likes of Halsey and Cindy Bruna; collaborated with Gigi Hadid for her guest-edited issue of V Magazine; and was tapped by Cardi B to design a piece to design a piece for her viral pregnancy announcement and music video.

Her work, which stems from a deeply personal place, has resonated with a wide community inspired by the social and political message imbued within her craft. Here, Japanwala shares an insight into her creative process, her background in fashion, and how she deals with criticism of her work. Read our interview below.

Tell us about yourself. Did you always know you wanted to work in art and fashion growing up? 

I’m a Pakistani artist and fashion designer currently based outside of NYC. My work focuses on the body and the discussion of themes such as bodily autonomy, moral policing, shame, sexuality, and censorship. My work is as much a reckoning with and intentional rejection of external control as it is a celebration. I always knew I wanted to be an artist/fashion designer but growing up, I could never have imagined it would be in the way I am now. I spent my childhood filling sketchbooks with dresses and gowns and here I am today making casts of nipples and vulvas! A journey!

Your senior thesis collection at Parsons seems to be the basis for your work now. What inspired this collection?

I went through a period of reflection during my senior year at Parsons where I realized I had the opportunity to create a body of work that communicated who I was and what was important to me. Until that point, I had always thought that the only iteration of creation for me as a fashion designer was to make pretty clothes. We already have a lot of people making a lot of pretty clothes in this industry, and I pivoted my research to looking at themes relating to my existence as a Pakistani woman that were seldom discussed and considered taboo. It kind of opened the floodgates to everything I had internalized and digested from the world around me, thinking those things could not be spoken about loudly – especially not by me. The development of that collection was the first time I had ever really sat down to ask myself: What am I making? Who am I making this for? And how is the creation of this work benefiting and impacting my community? Those three questions are ones I continue to ask myself and will continue to ask as long as I am creating work.

You’ve also worked in fashion at companies like ELLE and Proenza Schouler. What did these experiences teach you that helped you in your work today?

I am so grateful for the friendships made, the industry knowledge gained, and the many lessons learned from my time at what are two iconic pillars in the global fashion community. Understanding the way those companies operated better prepared me to navigate the industry as an independent creator. There is no way I would have ever known what LOR stands for if I hadn’t spent my time in the ELLE fashion closet. Significantly, both experiences made it extremely clear to me how the industry as a whole continues to uphold obsolete and problematic ways of functioning, with all those existing under it being forced to play by the outdated rules, whether they want to or not. It made me look towards rejecting some of those rules and push myself to fumble through charting a different way.

Do you remember your first big breakthrough moment?  

The first time molding my own body. Something shifted in me when I saw an exact and external iteration of my body. It was terrifying, powerful, and profound. It was an insistence for my body to occupy physical space and for me to recontextualize it as art, armor, and documentation. That I as a Pakistani, Muslim, immigrant woman am here, and have every right to be.

We have to talk about the Cardi B look. What was the process like creating a look for this moment? 

Did that really happen? It’s still crazy for me to think about that moment. The process was STRESSFUL! The pressure of creating not just one but two looks for someone during such a special time in their life, but also the fact that this someone is a global megastar. I was honored to get to work with her and Kollin [Carter], but I am not exaggerating when I say that I was passed out on the floor from exhaustion after staying up for days to get these pieces ready in time for them to shoot. Fashion, it’s so glamorous! It’s also important to reflect on the impact of a moment like that, for me and other young artists of color. It lets all of us know that if a young, experimental Pakistani designer have their work worn by someone like Cardi B, a lot more is possible than you allow yourself to believe. The power of that understanding can be a really beautiful thing.

Your work seems to be quite polarizing. What has the response been so far and how do you deal with criticism? 

I could write an entire novel to just this one question. The DMs are OVERFLOWING! Reception of my work falls on the two extremes of the spectrum and I also get a sprinkling of everything in between. The word ‘shame’ comes up a lot in the response to my work. We know people are angered, terrified, and disgusted by the female body, but I didn’t realize just how deeply rooted those feelings were and just how many people felt that way. I’ve become good at not allowing that rhetoric to paralyze me, but when people say women’s bodies are shameful, that they’re lesser than, that they’re obscene – that enables real world actions of violence and erasure that impact real bodies and real people. Which is horrifying, and thinking about that really breaks my heart and makes me fucking angry. I use it as confirmation and motivation to keep my head down and continue creating the work.

I always end questions like this by talking about the positive impact because I am in awe of the community I have been able to build through sharing my work. The people that champion me uplift the message that our bodies shouldn’t need to prove anything other than being allowed to simply exist. To receive a message from another Pakistani woman telling me that my art allowed them to drop the shame and trauma they had been carrying within themselves for so long – that’s powerful and necessary. No amount of vomit and poop emojis can discredit the importance and beauty of that.

Where do you hope your work takes you, and what are your goals for the future?

Revolution, obviously. But really – I hope my work continues asking me and everyone viewing it uncomfortable questions, forcing the recontextualization and reframing of ideas forced upon us in an effort to control our bodies and keep us in our place. The goals for the future are to continue growing a community as I build my practice, sharing the message of my work, allowing it to teach me, and finding a way to pay rent while I do all of the above!

mishajapanwala.com

@mishajapanwala