EVERY BRAND HAS A BEGINNING, AND THIS IS MINE. I'M SHARING A BEHIND-THE-SCENES LOOK AT THE JOURNEY OF BUILDING ARTIST KIT COMPANY, BECAUSE I BELIEVE YOU SHOULD KNOW THE PERSON AND THE PURPOSE BEHIND THE PRODUCTS YOU CHOOSE TO SUPPORT.
It was never meant to become a company, or even a business. It all began in January 2020. I had always dreamed of creating a palette, mostly because the ones on the market never felt right to me. One night at 3 a.m., I woke up hungry and wandered into the kitchen to make ramen. That’s when the idea struck. Half-asleep but excited, I dug through a drawer, pulled out an old business card, a razor blade, and some tape. With those scraps, I built the very first prototype of Palette 1.0.
After countless DIY prototypes, I finally took the leap and placed a large deposit to have a mold made in March 2020. Just days later, New York City announced the COVID shutdown. In that moment, it felt like I had made the worst decision of my life. With no chance of a refund, my only option was to move forward and see where it would lead. Looking back, I realize that if the shutdown had come just a few days earlier, Artist Kit Company might never have existed.
At the time, I was living in Harlem with two roommates, spending most of my days and nights in my room trying to figure everything out. There was so much to learn, but lockdown gave me the one thing I needed most, time. In that first year, Palette 1.0 didn’t arrive assembled. I had to inspect every piece, cut and place each magnet, insert each pin, assemble and pack every palette, prepare every order, count each pan, and bag them one by one.
In the first year, I chose to launch Artist Kit Company anonymously. It felt like a wild experiment, a way to challenge myself and let the product truly speak for itself. I wanted people, even my closest friends, to love it for its quality, not because they knew me. But staying hidden wasn’t easy. With tattoos covering my arms and hands, I often had to wear gloves while filming or ask my roommate to step in. This photo is from a reel I posted after a full year of anonymity, when I finally walked into frame without saying a word and revealed myself on Instagram for the very first time.
Before the launch, there was endless tedious work to be done. I spent countless hours in my room inspecting and assembling palettes by hand. Even then, I had no idea if anyone would actually buy them. The page had only a handful of followers, and I was building everything on faith alone.
I launched Artist Kit Company on my birthday in June 2020, choosing the date so I could always be reminded of it each year. That evening, my neighbors and roommates had put together a small surprise party in the backyard, but my mind was fixed on the launch. I remember stepping away from the celebration to take the site live and within ten minutes, over a hundred orders had already come in. By the end of the hour, the entire first production run was completely sold out.
In the beginning, the online shop was only open one day a week. I would pack every order by hand, load them into blue duffel bags, and walk them over to my local USPS office to drop them off. Eventually, I opening the shop on a few extra days after many artists reached out, explaining that they couldn’t shop on certain days and educating me about Shabbat.
Eventually, I bought a wagon to carry the orders to the post office, a total game changer, and I still have it today.
I’m grateful for my photography background, it let me create my own visuals without hiring anyone, which was especially important during lockdown when spending more money was definitely not an option. By that point, I had already spent a significant portion of my savings and had no income coming in.
I bought project boards from the dollar store, along with wall plasters and paint, to create my own textured backdrops for content, and I still use them today.
AS MORE INVENTORY CAME IN, LACK OF SPACE BECAME THE BIGGEST ISSUE.
I would wait until midnight and head to my local grocery store to grab these black veggie baskets, which I still use today.
I ran out of space in my room, and thankfully my roommates let me take over the hallway. I ended up spending most of my time in this little corner.
I got my first business sign, and for some reason, it became a huge source of motivation while I worked.
Very soon, I had taken over the living room too. That’s when I realized it was time to figure out the next steps.
My bedroom was no longer a bedroom, it had become the stock room. Sometimes, there was even inventory piled on my bed.
I rented a storage unit down the street to offload some inventory, but it didn’t take long before I outgrew that space too.
Remember when I said my room had become a stock room? Here’s a behind-the-scenes look at what it usually looked like.
I took the big leap and signed a lease for a commercial space. I moved to NYC with just a backpack, sleeping on couches along the way. I never would have imagined having my own office in the heart of New York City.
This was one of my biggest accomplishments. I grew up with very little and have always worked for everything I have. Signing this lease was also the first official lease I ever signed on my own in New York City.
I’m grateful to my friends who helped me move in. I definitely built those racks wrong because I didn’t want to follow the instructions and surprisingly, they haven’t collapsed yet.
I spent most of my days at the office with a sleeping bag on the floor. Sometimes I worked overnight packing orders and would end up sleeping right there.
I genuinely enjoyed what I was doing, which made going to the office a joy. I didn’t have to be there every day, but I wanted to be.
Remember that wagon I got back in Harlem? It’s still going strong.
THEN I GOT A DAMN CAT.
I didn’t give him a name. He usually just watches me work or stares at a wall. Nowadays, he gets more visitors than I do.
This is the basement where my family and I lived for over six years in Massachusetts when we first arrived from Vietnam. It was my mom, dad, and two older siblings. All of us worked at Walmart or McDonald’s. I never realized how small it was until I went back to visit. I just sat there, looking at the four walls and one fake window. It wasn’t much, but we were happy. At the time, I didn’t have the perspective to compare what’s a lot and what’s little. I’ll forever cherish those years in that basement, because without them, I don’t think I would be able to truly appreciate everything I have today.
This photo was taken at the airport on the day we left our home in Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam. After five years of waiting, my uncle’s sponsorship was finally approved, and he was able to come to the United States to start a new life. We moved to Westborough, Massachusetts where all of our lives began again. Our second chance. Our fresh start.
