I didn't plan to create a brand. Sincreto was born as a space for exploration, a refuge where I could play with concrete and let my hands do the talking. I started making planters and coasters, never imagining that this process would gradually lead me to tell a much more intimate story.

Since university, I've worked with the body and what it means to inhabit it as a woman. It was my way of resisting, of understanding myself, of questioning ideas that had hurt me since childhood: the need to fit in, to be silent, to appear desirable according to someone else's mold.

Over time, Sincreto became a space for catharsis. A universe of my own where I could create beauty from what once made me feel out of place. I realized that many of my wounds stemmed from not having had validating spaces: neither for what I felt, nor for how I saw myself.

Today, that is my intention: to create objects that are symbols. Pieces that embrace, that question, that reflect diversity and reality. I want more women to be able to make their homes a safe place, where art resides, yes, but also recognition, representation, the possibility of seeing and feeling themselves.

Sincreto is not just about bodies. It's also about everything we were told we should be. It's the inner struggle, the creative chaos, the tenderness, the motherhood, the scars, the story each of us carries. It's a visual language that tries to say: there is beauty here too, even where you were never told it existed.

— Aislinn Ross