Touch and Go

Artists Yvonne Wells, Liam Lee, and Misha Japanwala talk bodies, homes, and how to get out of your own head.

Spring / Summer 2025

A woman in a colorful patchwork dress and glasses is kneeling on the tiled floor of a room, looking over her shoulder. The room has white walls, a black door, and a ceiling light fixture. There is a green plant on the left, and a yellow chair and small stool near the woman.

WORDS Heather Samples
PHOTOGRAPHY & STYLING Braylen Dion

Yvonne Wells is a former schoolteacher, quilter, and folk artist based in Tuscaloosa, Alabama. Born and raised in New York, Liam Lee is an artist and furniture designer who works primarily in merino wool. Pakistani fashion designer and artist Misha Japanwala molds the body to create casts worn as sculptural garments. We brought them together to chat about the overlaps in their work, from craft and technique to a shared reach for radical connection.

A woman with dark hair and makeup, sitting shirtless in a room with wood-paneled ceiling and walls, holding a fabric onto her lap.

FULL LOOK Misha’s Own

A woman stands in a room with wooden panel walls, with art pieces resembling human torsos hanging on the walls. She has dark hair tied back, wears dark makeup, and drapes metallic fabric over her shoulders, covering her chest and waist. The room contains art supplies and sculptures in progress, with various colored sculptures in the foreground, and a table with artistic tools and materials.

HEATHER SAMPLES: I thought we’d start by talking about touch. The work each of you makes really begs to be touched. I’m wondering what you hope will happen when someone touches it.

YVONNE WELLS: When it’s touched, you will know, to me, what it means. If I pick up a piece of broadcloth or a cornmeal sack, that to me means harshness, or being without. They touch it and they feel it and they say, “I can identify with this quilt because of how it feels.” It’s talking to them just like it was talking to me when I made it.

LIAM LEE: For all of us or for anyone who makes things with our hands, and in particular, making functional objects, whether worn on the body or interacted with in the home, we all have a very intimate relationship with the materiality of an object. We’re all very craft focused, and as craftspeople who really engage with the material, we have to know what something feels like.

MISHA JAPANWALA: That intimacy is so important, not just for the process but for the narrative of my work. The main thing my work addresses is this idea of shame and shamelessness, and I think the antidote to shame is care and understanding of one’s body. Touch is one of the ways in which we understand not just other bodies but our own bodies.

A man with dark hair and a neutral expression stands in front of a large, decorative green panel with twisted designs. He is wearing a red textured short-sleeve shirt, light-colored striped pants, and brown shoes. The setting features dark wooden walls and a wooden floor.

FULL LOOK Liam’s Own, LOCATION Cooper Hewitt,
Smithsonian Design Museum

Woman sitting on the floor in a cozy living room, holding a large, blue knitted blanket, with a large potted plant nearby and a table with yellow decorative balls in front.

FULL LOOK Liam’s Own

HS: One step further in that connection between you and the viewer would be using the art object. What do you think would be lost if people never used your work?

YW: I think the whole art piece itself would be lost. If they never used my quilts, they would never get a chance to see what I was thinking, what I was using, what my idea was. If you don’t ever get a chance to use my work or any artist’s work, what good is it to do? Only self-satisfaction, probably.

A woman with curly black hair and glasses, wearing a white blouse, sitting in a room with colorful paintings on the wall, resting her chin on her hand and looking at the camera.

FULL LOOK Yvonne’s Own

A woman in an orange suit and floral shoes standing with arms crossed in front of colorful quilts with cartoon-style characters.

FULL LOOK Yvonne’s Own

MJ: I love the idea of leaving it open to the person who’s having their body molded to do whatever they want with it. I held an open call of nipple moldings a couple years ago in New York City. Some people wanted to have it up on the wall, someone turned it into a necklace, someone wanted to use it as a paperweight on their desk. Creating this relationship to that part of the body can only happen if you’re constantly interacting with, or seeing, or existing alongside the work. For the quilt and for the furniture—to exist with this piece, to live with it, is what is so special about these practices.

LL: I think you’re getting at a larger question of the distinction between art and craft, and whether these boundaries really matter, or how evaluation of work shifts when functionality is added. It would probably bum me out if nobody sat in the furniture. But it also can do, as Misha was saying, its own thing just by being in the space with you.

A woman wearing traditional jewelry and a sleeveless top, standing with arms crossed, against a dark, decorated background.

FULL LOOK Misha’s Own

A woman dressed in a black dress and orange shoes stands in a doorway with a blue background, a deer skull mounted above her, and a decorative tapestry with forest scenes. The room has vintage furniture including a wooden desk, a tan knitted blanket on a chair, and a potted plant.

FULL LOOK Misha’s Own

HS: Looking at your work, I find myself thinking about home—a place to be nude, to be under a quilt. A place for soft furniture that cannot survive outside. But you’re all also troubling the idea of home as private. You’re encouraging us to think about home as something that can only exist within a relationship to the world outside. What does home mean to each of you?

MJ: I have two homes that are now separated by thousands of miles. I live between two continents. The idea of home feels very complicated to me most of the time. Having this conversation is a nice reminder of the intimacy of home, how one carries it with themselves everywhere they go—a reminder to think of home as the body.

A man sitting on the floor with his chin resting on his hand surrounded by two sculptural chairs that look like stylized black animals with orange and blue accents, in a room with artwork, a fireplace, and various decorative objects.

FULL LOOK Liam’s Own

A young man with black hair sitting on a red velvet ornate Victorian-style chair in a room with wooden panel walls. He is wearing a red fuzzy top, cream striped pants, and brown boots, with his right hand resting on his chin and his left arm on his left knee. There are blue and pink velvet chairs partially visible in the foreground and a large window with what appears to be foggy glass behind him.

FULL LOOK Liam’s Own, LOCATION Cooper Hewitt, Smithsonian Design Museum

LL: It’s interesting, Misha, when you mention thinking of home as the body. When the pandemic hit, when I lost my job and we were all stuck in our homes, I had been thinking a lot about how the space of the home maps onto the body. Our bodies became these spaces of safety and refuge, but also anxiety and danger. We realized you can’t really control what comes in and out. So how do we bring in the outside world, make a dream space, a space that feels expansive?


YW: Home means a place of solitude, a place of doing what you want to without outside voices. Home is a place that you and you alone know. But home is also a place where people can come see the person who owns this place, and get something that will take them into the world. ❤

An elderly woman with curly black hair, glasses, and earrings, wearing a teal cardigan and black top, is sitting and working on a quilt with colorful patterns. She is inside a room next to a large green plant, a green chair, and a white door, with a quilt draped over her lap.

FULL LOOK Yvonne’s Own

STORY CREDITS
PHOTOGRAPHY & STYLING Braylen Dion, WORDS Heather Samples, HAIR & MAKEUP FOR MISHA Melissa Drouillard,
PRODUCER Masha Spaic, CASTING DIRECTOR Muzam Agha


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