Why Akou Exists
I never woke up wanting to make rugs.
I woke up with a question.
A question that eventually gave birth to Akou.
When people ask me what I do, the simplest answer is:
I create textile artworks.
But that answer isn’t entirely accurate.
For years, the same question has stayed with me:
How can we help someone find their way back to themselves?
For a long time, I explored this question through writing. I tried to understand why we find it so difficult to love ourselves, why we spend so much time comparing ourselves to others, and why we sometimes forget who we truly are.
Then one day, I felt the need to create differently.
The words were still there.
But they had found another language.
Wool became that new language.
« I don’t create artworks to fill a wall. I create them to accompany the people who live with them. »
Why wool?
Because it doesn’t speak only to the eyes.
It speaks to the hands.
To memory.
To that feeling of warmth, softness and comfort that we instinctively recognize, without always knowing why.
I like to believe that even before understanding an artwork, we can already feel it.
That is exactly what I am looking for.
I don’t create artworks simply to dress a wall.
I create them to accompany the people who live with them.
I deeply believe that the spaces we inhabit influence the way we live, feel and sometimes even think.
An artwork does not change a life.
But it can transform an atmosphere.
Invite us to slow down.
To breathe.
To find a little peace.
And sometimes, that is already a lot.
I refuse to reproduce an artwork identically.
Not because I seek exclusivity.
But because I believe that no human being should live surrounded by an artwork created for someone else.
Every person has a story.
Every place has an energy.
Every creation deserves to be born from that encounter.
You may have noticed that an eye often appears in my work.
I am regularly asked why.
For me, this eye is not a symbol of surveillance.
It is a presence.
An invitation to look at ourselves with greater honesty.
To remember that there may be something greater than ourselves, whatever name each of us chooses to give it.
And above all, to remember that we all deserve to be seen as we truly are.
Perhaps, deep down, that is Akou’s purpose.
To create artworks that accompany us.
Artworks that live alongside the people who welcome them.
Artworks that do not simply ask to be looked at, but gently remind us that it is always possible to find our way back to ourselves.
Welcome to Akou.
Sometimes, an artwork begins with a question.
The next one is already beginning to take shape.
— Ryslein Sakouni
And you…
What question changed your life?
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