'I started writing as a way to deal with the most shattering of heartbreaks'
Ellie Domoney on how creativity makes her feel alive
Ellie Domoney is the creator of El Bras, a made to order underwear company. I wrote about El Bras in my debut novel Rosewater, and we even did a little a collaboration on a Rosewater underwear set which you can see here.
Ellie is a creative I deeply admire. She is a multidisciplinary maker whose work often focuses on the intersection of grief, death and sex.
I’ve always been a person who surrounds themselves with trinkets; knick-knacks - tiny boxes - spoons too small, spoons too big, functionless yet oh-so important objects. These objects have followed me around my entire life. I have no idea where a lot of them come from - they’ve always just been there on the periphery checking in on me. Making sure I'm ok. They sat on the dusty shelf in the yellow and green bedroom my brother and I built our forts in as children. They were chucked in a drawer at my uni halls, waiting patiently to be promoted onto a top shelf for all to see. They followed me from house-shares with friends to playing grown ups in flats with exes. The house on the seafront on top of the fish and chip shop. The house with the plastic spiral staircase leading up to my little attic room. On every dusty mantelpiece of my twenties, I’ve placed my trinkets.
My most prized trinket, as in the thing I would grab if my house was burning down, is a tiny functioning object. It’s a zip jacket that my grandma made for an Action Man belonging to my dad in the 70s. Measuring 5 centimetres tall, with an arm span of about 11 centimetres. These tiny useless objects that adorn my flat are the life force that make my house a home. Beyond my laptop screen now is a selection of trinkets sat on a wooden plate. There is a candle in the middle. And what connects each small, functionless, essential object on my makeshift shrine is a sprinkling of shells. Like Hansel and Gretel’s crumbs, these shells lead me back home. To memories of love and loss.
Shells. My new obsession. My new symbol-du-jour. I take symbols quite literally. A year ago my symbol was a butterfly. When my ex and I broke up we went to get tattoos. I got a little winged friend behind my ear to cement some sense into the nonsensical thing I had just done (break ups, eh). The butterfly - the symbol of transformation. The chrysalis stage - when a caterpillar breaks down into a magical metamorphosing goo is death, but the caterpillar re-emerges even more beautiful than before. Would this be the same for our relationship? During this time of heartbreak I saw butterflies everywhere I went. I stitched them into all my clothes. I still sleep with the butterfly shaped soft toy Con made me.
The desire to make sense of my life through symbols, means the shell has emerged as the next motif in my autobiographical sense making mission. Right now, I am a pebble on the beach admiring every shell, its aesthetic and the personality that shines through it. I’ve recently released a necklace in my new collection named ‘I slept and dreamed that life was beauty’. These necklaces are made of shells I collected on a beach in Mexico this time last year. I selected these little pieces of pink gold when my heart was broken into a million pieces. The break up had crept out of a depression and I didn’t see it coming. In Mexico, I wrapped the sweet ancient charms into a cloth and brought them back to England to show Con. I wanted to show her the little pieces of my heart that I’d found washed up under my toes, while we both grieved a relationship on different sides of the earth.
My brand is my art work. I’ve only recently allowed myself to identify as an artist. Previously I was just a ‘small business owner’, but I cannot fight it anymore. It’s become increasingly hard to control my desire to tell stories with the objects I come across. I want to weave them into the things I make. It’s still hard to fight the imposter syndrome as someone who didn’t do a creative undergrad and is a self taught sewer. I even actively disliked my art foundation when I was 18.
I’ve drilled tiny holes into the heartbreak shells so they can be worn as amulets. This requires a very delicate touch. I’ve acquired a tiny hand held drill and it’s recommended that you fill the shell with water while you drill it - like you’re soothing the shell and reminding it of home while you pierce its hard skin. Paired with a silky or chunky silver chain, the seashell goes from being ‘kitch-seaside-windchime-core’ to something witchy and ritualistic. I want to be a witch, I want to emanate Anne Boleyn, I want to be protected by nature’s gift. The shell conjures peace and tranquillity as it adorns my ageing neck.
Seashells emerge in all forms of art - see Botticelli and Leonardo da Vinci. They are associated with love, fertility and sensuality with its vulva-like energy. In Hinduism Lakshmi is ‘born of the churning ocean’. In Mediaeval Christian traditions they are associated with pilgrims. In most global religions shells will symbolise the safe passage of our souls from this world to another. They are remnants of a past life, once a home to a crab and now left to sit on the beach. A reminder of life that once was. They are protection. They are letting go of imperfections. They are immortal beauty in their imperfections. They are gentle and alluring. You can’t help going home from the beach with a pocket full of shells.
Art is about nurturing connection and joy and finding a way to communicate your experience of the world. I hope this gives an insight into how I formulate my ideas. Nine years ago I taught myself how to sew through watching hours of YouTube. It was a way to channel the grief of my father’s suicide. One year ago I started writing as a way to deal with the most shattering of heartbreaks. Both avenues of creativity have made me feel alive when things have felt close to - too hard. We have to express ourselves with the tools that we have. We offer up little pieces of our hearts for people to consume. To appreciate. To find solace or connection or beauty in. Creativity to me is to fall in love with the everyday.
What you can do with shells:
You can blow a conch shell to summon positive energy.
You can build a pagan altar - the shell is water, which lies on the West side of the altar. Earth sits at the north, air to the east, and fire to the south. Witches invoke all the elements before any ritual to protect the sacred space.
You can use the scallop shell to manifest. They also look very good as butter or soap dishes.
Shells make journeys, as we do, and incur knocks and scratches and loose chunks and change along the way. They remind us of the beauty in the simple things. Wear them during a journey to protect you from evil.
During moon rituals - use the shell to release what isn't serving you.
If you dream of seashells, good luck and growth is coming your way. It can also represent your desire for protection.
Listen to: Sea Glass by Yasmin Lacey.
Follow Ellie on Substack & Instagram and check out El Bras here.