CNTRFLD. You were born in the Philippines, raised in the United States, and have spent much of your adult life in London. How has this diasporic experience shaped your visual language, and do you feel your work carries traces of these layered identities?
JP. I am like a sponge: I absorb what is around me. I love learning about other cultures, other times, and simply ‘other’, therefore I have really taken in what and where I have experienced. Naturally, that has shaped my view and my visual language. I believe like my work has always been multi-cultural; part of being mixed-race in addition to absorbing from the environments I am in. Do I feel my work carries traces of these layered identities? I can’t really say for certain. My work is ‘me’, after all, so it must but it is not so much a conscious decision of stating: ‘ok, let me combine all of these identities into my work’, it just evolves without me thinking so much about that. It is just as much influenced by artists who I have really admired and adored.
Living in different places has also meant that my understanding of culture has never felt fixed or singular. Each place brings its own visual rhythms, materials, colours, and histories, and I find that these things naturally settle somewhere in my subconscious. Sometimes it might be a way of approaching ornament, sometimes a sensitivity to texture or craftsmanship, and sometimes simply an openness to mixing references that might not traditionally sit together. Because of that, my work tends to feel layered rather than rooted in one particular place. The experience of moving between cultures has also made me comfortable with hybridity, with allowing different influences to coexist without needing to resolve them into a single narrative. That sense of fluidity feels very natural to me and, in many ways, reflects the way my own life has unfolded across different countries and cultural contexts.
CNTRFLD. You’ve spoken about a longing to understand your Filipino heritage growing up. Has returning to that part of your identity influenced your work in ways that are visible—or perhaps more subtle and internal?
JP. This is sort of related to my answer for question 6, above. I think usually it has influenced my work in more subtle and internal ways, however, I am, at the moment, very inspired by the traditional Filipino barong shirt and it’s embroideries, as well as ‘rara’ traditional woven mats. I am also consciously making a decision to incorporate some Philippine woods into my Francis de Lara pieces.
At the same time, returning to that part of my identity has also been a process of discovery rather than something I grew up fully understanding. Looking more closely at Filipino craft traditions, textiles, and materials has opened up new ways of thinking about detail, pattern, and structure. Even when those references are not immediately visible, they influence how I approach surface, ornamentation, and the relationship between material and form. There is also an emotional dimension to it: reconnecting with that heritage creates a sense of grounding and curiosity that feeds into the creative process. In some works the influence might appear quite directly through materials or motifs, while in others it may simply shape the atmosphere or sensibility of the piece. In that sense, it becomes part of the internal language of the work rather than something that always needs to be explicitly stated.
CNTRFLD. Your career has taken you through multiple geographies—from Minneapolis to Hong Kong to London. Where do you feel most “at home” creatively today, and how does place continue to shape your thinking and practice?
JP. London is most definitely home. Although I am not English, I am a Londoner most certainly. Much of London is made of people who did not grow up in this city, or even in the UK, and that diversity is a huge reason as to why it is so incredible. My large group of friends is from all over the world but they share that position with me. Artistic events and exhibitions also host such a diverse international mix, which constantly inspire and affect me. The city is always evolving, moving, changing. I call that ‘kineticity’: kineticism meets electricity, and it sparks the souls of many artists.
I must also say that whenever I go to Florence, Italy, where I took my sabbatical to study Renaissance jewellery, I also get so inspired as soon as I am off of the plane and into the city, the very second I step onto its cobbled streets. In an ideal world, I live part time in London and part time in Florence… and lots of long-stay holidays in different parts of the world.
CNTRFLD. Having navigated both commercial industries and institutional art spaces, what differences have you observed in terms of support systems for artists? Where have you found the most meaningful forms of support or community?
JP. Overall, the strongest support I have found is in the friends and colleagues I get along with, over all of these years. Those with not just a creative vision, but with integrity, intellect, and empathy. We constantly support and inspire one another, and sometimes even create together.
In the art and fashion industries, I have found more support in the art community, and in the fashion community pre-2013, when something started to change in the fashion industry and budgets began to go down, down, down, and hand in hand with that, respect for the creatives (photographers, stylists, glam teams). What I love about the art community is that whenever I am invited to participate in a project by a museum or art entity, I am treated with such great respect, even kindness. That is lacking in fashion today. Most magazines have no budget for shoots, and how is that respectful of the creatives, and of true sustainability, of which they all seem to be so concerned about? The fact is that it is not and that is hypocritical. There is a real problem in the fashion industry regarding fair budgets and fees for the creatives, and that is not simply in editorial, but also in commercial, projects.
CNTRFLD. For emerging artists—particularly those working across disciplines or navigating between fashion, design, and art—what advice would you give about sustaining a practice that is both conceptually rigorous and materially ambitious?
JP. Let things take the time they need, but at the same time don’t fall victim to procrastination—and equally, don’t rush in without doing some research and having at least a bit of a plan. A practice that moves between disciplines requires patience, curiosity, and a willingness to learn the language of different materials and fields. Spend the time understanding what you are doing and why you are doing it. Personally, I find it helpful to have one day for photography, one day for eyewear, one day for jewellery, as if I combine them all into one day, I am less productive even with the same amount of hours spent on each hand.
Conceptual clarity often comes from that process of investigation.
Financially and economically, it’s important to be realistic from the beginning. Try to understand the real costs of what you are making—materials, fabrication, time, transport, and presentation, then add a buffer on top of it. When possible, allocate your resources to the elements that truly matter to the work: the right materials, the right tools, or the right collaborators. Sometimes that means investing more in a critical component rather than spreading your budget too thinly. If you can, spend what you need to spend on the things that are essential to the integrity of the work.
At the same time, learn to work intelligently with constraints. Limited resources can often lead to inventive solutions. Try not to take shortcuts unless doing so actually opens up a new creative direction or forces you to solve a problem in an unexpected way. Constraints can be productive, but cutting corners simply to save money often compromises the work in the long run.
Also allow your practice to evolve naturally. When you work across fashion, design, and art, the boundaries are already fluid, so resist the pressure to define yourself too narrowly too early. Follow the ideas and materials that genuinely interest you, even if they lead somewhere unexpected. At the same time, remain disciplined: document your process, test things, prototype, and refine.
Finally, remember that building a rigorous and materially ambitious practice takes time and money. Develop your eye, your hand, and your thinking simultaneously. Be patient with the process, but serious about the work—and mindful of the economics that allow you to sustain it.
