On a Mediterranean island, Ivana has built a creative world that moves at the pace of real life. Her YouTube channel, the republic of me, brings knitting, spinning, weaving, painting, gardening, and ordinary household rituals into the same frame. A skein of handspun yarn may sit beside fruit from the garden; a garment in progress may lead into a reflection on time, identity, or the things we choose to keep.
Ivana describes her work through slow living, authenticity, simplicity, and everyday ritual. Those ideas are visible across her YouTube videos, Instagram, and website, but they are never presented as a perfectly arranged lifestyle. Projects stall, plans change, rooms need resetting, and inspiration comes and goes. What remains consistent is her willingness to look closely at the process.
The First Scarf, and the Craft That Felt Like Home
Ivana first learned to knit at around nine years old, taught by her grandmother. Her first project was a burgundy garter-stitch scarf for her father, worked on long metal needles. At the time, what fascinated her was the apparent magic of making something from almost nothing. Looking back, she understands that her grandmother was also passing on less visible lessons: presence, patience, and the quiet confidence that grows when the hands learn to create.
Knitting then receded as school, university, and adult life filled the years. When Ivana eventually returned to it, she was in a period when she felt lost. The movements came back through muscle memory, and the craft felt like coming home.
She began knitting for hours, sometimes wondering whether she was using it as an escape. Her own conclusion was more precise: it was not an escape, but a refuge. She did not need to solve everything while she knitted. She only needed to make the next stitch.
That distinction explains much of the emotional clarity in her work today. Repetition quieted the many simultaneous conversations in her mind without demanding complete concentration. Knitting gave her enough focus to stay present and enough room to think. It also changed her relationship with progress. A sweater, wrap, or pair of socks cannot be rushed into existence; it asks the maker to continue before the result is visible.
For Ivana, patience became active rather than passive: it meant showing up repeatedly, accepting slow accumulation, and trusting that small actions could lead somewhere meaningful.
She applies the same generosity to mistakes. Unless an error threatens the structure or dominates the finished piece, she may work around it and leave it as part of the object. Persistence matters more than flawless execution. This is why her simplest projects can carry the deepest weight. A handspun skein is already beautiful, but it is also full of possible forms. Like the blank canvases she paints, yarn is never empty in her imagination.
Sometimes she begins with a clear picture; sometimes she lets the material guide her. Either way, making becomes both an object and an inner adjustment—a practice that leaves her a little more grounded than when she began.
From a Lockdown Bet to an Intentional Community
The republic of me began during the COVID lockdown period, when Ivana was in her early forties. The immediate push was playful: she, her husband, and their two sons made a family bet that they would each start a YouTube channel and see who could attract the most subscribers. Ivana had already considered filming, but the challenge helped her press record. Her earliest videos focused on the activities filling her days—knitting and spinning first, then weaving, painting, gardening, and the wider texture of creative life.
Starting did not mean feeling instantly at ease. Ivana has spoken openly about how rigid she looked in early videos and how anxious it felt to address a camera lens. From the beginning, however, she set one non-negotiable rule: the person on screen had to remain recognizably herself. She imagined her children watching years later and wanted them to see their mother, not a manufactured online personality. That commitment to authenticity became the compass of the channel. Six years later, it also explains why her audience trusts her reflections even when they are complicated, unfinished, or not conventionally polished.
What surprised her most was the community that formed around that honesty. She had wondered why anyone would want to hear what she thought or see what she made. Viewers answered by returning, commenting, and sharing their own experiences. Over time, the channel grew into friendships and a maker circle that has accompanied her through creative momentum, quiet periods, and changes in direction. Knitathons, seasonal vlogs, project updates, and community conversations give people more than finished objects to admire; they offer the reassuring experience of making alongside someone else.
Her projects show a creator who prefers exploration to a fixed category. She spins yarn, weaves wraps, experiments with brioche and mosaic knitting, makes socks and blankets, returns to painting, and has explored resin and wet felting. Her In & Out Raglan recipe translates that openness into a practical design: a top-down sweater framework intended to work across yarn gauges and be adjusted to the maker’s own measurements. The project is characteristic of Ivana’s approach—structured enough to guide, flexible enough to become personal.
More recently, she has brought the same thinking to consumption. A no-buy year, the gradual editing of her handmade wardrobe, and projects built from random or leftover skeins have shifted the question from what to acquire next to what can be discovered in what is already present. She has knitted and crocheted substantial blankets from her stash, worked handspun yarn into garments and wraps, and even given old T-shirts another life.
This is not austerity performed for the camera. It is an ongoing attempt to align her home, wardrobe, creativity, and spending with the life she actually wants. For viewers, that makes the republic of me quietly influential: it demonstrates that a creative practice can expand not through constant novelty, but through deeper attention to materials, habits, and choices.
Hand-Stitching a Babylon Leather Bag
Ivana’s collaboration with Babylon Leather began with curiosity about a material outside her usual fiber practice. In February, she showed the newly arrived kit and explained that she had been invited to choose a bag herself. She selected a structured design she had seen another maker complete, choosing black leather with silver hardware. The appeal was straightforward: the pieces arrived cut and punched, with thread, needles, hardware, and access to an assembly video, but the bag would still be sewn entirely by hand. Her finished project can be seen in her May collaboration video.
Make the same project
Discover Ivana’s Babylon Leather Bag Kit
Explore the leather kit featured in Ivana’s collaboration and make your own version step by step.
Get the Same KitWhen she shared the finished bag in May, her response was characteristically specific. She admired the construction and silver details, and left off the extra scarf and decorations because she preferred the bag simple. The saddle stitch was easy to understand and repetitive in a satisfying way. Although the technique was straightforward, the result felt more personal because she had built it stitch by stitch. She planned to use it both as a handbag and a place to carry yarn.
She also named the genuine difficulty. Black thread against black leather made the pre-punched holes harder to see, especially where the needle had to pass through three layers. Strong lighting and a slower pace were necessary. Her advice was practical rather than dramatic: a lighter leather color would likely make the process easier, while the black version remained entirely manageable with patience.
A Republic Built One Small Act at a Time
Ivana’s creative story is not organized around a single breakthrough. It is made from returns: returning to the stitches her grandmother taught her, returning to painting after a pause, returning to the camera after quiet periods, and returning to materials already waiting at home. Each return carries more self-knowledge than the one before it.
That is what makes the republic of me feel both personal and widely relatable. Ivana does not promise that a slower life will be effortless or perfectly calm. She shows that steadiness can be practiced—in one row, one honest conversation, one reused skein, and one ordinary day at a time. The finished objects matter, but the person being shaped through their making matters more.

Laisser un commentaire
Ce site est protégé par hCaptcha, et la Politique de confidentialité et les Conditions de service de hCaptcha s’appliquent.