Ina Dyreborg’s Tufting Journey: Blending Playful Art with Interior Spaces

Danish textile artist Ina Dyreborg is renowned for her lively and whimsical creations.

Her tufted works are crafted with a Danella needle, a handheld tufting instrument. She occasionally blends in additional materials to heighten their emotional depth.

Her designs predominantly feature faces and masks inspired by both animals and people, reflecting her belief that masks can reveal our authentic identities or ambitions. Through her vivid use of color and artistic approach, she explores the balance of beauty and imperfection, masculinity and femininity, and our inner "beast." Ina frequently animates her masks by wearing them herself, breathing vibrant life into her distinctive artistic world.

Recently, Ina spoke at Pictoplasma in Berlin, an inspiring gathering of visual artists, designers, and creators. She shared her creative process and insights into the intersection of textile art and character design. We had the pleasure of speaking with Ina to explore her craft. We admire her ability to transform spaces with colorful, handmade tufted creations that embody individuality and emotional resonance. In the following interview, Ina opens up about her journey with tufting, the inspirations behind her playful designs, and the challenges of balancing creativity with the demands of running an art business.

What drew you to tufting as a medium, and how did that first rug evolve into what you’re doing today?

I got into textile art because I was looking at my floor one day and realized I needed a rug. I started searching for vibrant, fun, and colorful rugs, but couldn’t find anything that spoke to me. So, I began researching how to make my own. That’s how it all started, and it has since evolved into the work I’m doing today.

Your background is quite multidisciplinary—clothing, product development, urban and cultural work. How have those experiences shaped the way you think about your art and the creative process?

My diverse background influences my work every day. As a design student, I was encouraged to experiment constantly, often creating things that weren’t necessarily practical. When I started tufting, there wasn’t much guidance available—hardly anyone was using the Danella needle at the time—so I had to teach myself. I tested different materials to tuft into, explored various yarns, and learned how to work with the tools and the craft itself. My experience in fashion also plays a big role. I had an old tailoring teacher who taught me that clothing should be as beautiful on the inside as it is on the outside. I carry that philosophy into my work. For me, it’s important to put effort into making things look beautiful inside and out—not everyone shares this view, but I find it meaningful. It feels wholesome and tells a story that beautiful things take time and care to create.

What was it like teaching yourself this craft? Were there any moments early on that felt like big breakthroughs or big frustrations?

Learning tufting was nerve-racking and uncomfortable, but also exciting. Back then, there weren’t resources like YouTube tutorials or AI tools to guide me, so I had to figure everything out through trial and error. I embraced the idea that it’s okay to make pieces that aren’t perfect or meant for display. At my workshops, I always tell people, “It’s your first piece—it’s fine if it’s not your best.” Early on, my focus was purely on mastering the technique, not on creating art to sell. I didn’t worry about colors or designs initially; instead, I practiced with shapes to get comfortable with the tufting tool. This approach helped me avoid disappointment if a design didn’t turn out as expected. By focusing on the tool for about a year, I built confidence in the craft. When I eventually started creating figures and designs, it felt easier because I already understood the technique. Eliminating that initial worry about the tool allowed me to focus on creativity later. I did sell some of those early practice pieces, but my main goal was to perfect the technical side of tufting.

Photos by Luna Signe Hørdum Nielsen and Ina Dyreborg

Your work is playful and full of color. Where do you find inspiration when you’re creating new pieces?

I draw inspiration from everyday life and the little moments that catch my attention. Often, it’s a funny or quirky situation that sparks an idea for a character. For example, my gorilla piece came from picturing a guy standing in a nightclub corner, catcalling everyone but going home alone. That image came to me while listening to Bruno Mars’ song Gorilla, which is about passionate, primal energy. I couldn’t stop laughing at the contrast between the song and this character I imagined, so I had to create it. Another piece, the “eye mirror,” was inspired by a podcast called My Dad Wrote a Porno. The story mentions a character, Belinda, who rarely blinks, and I kept picturing this woman with dry, unblinking eyes in a hilariously non-erotic context. When something makes me laugh or giggle—like a podcast, a song, or a fleeting moment—I feel compelled to turn it into a piece. The story behind each work is important to me, even if the audience doesn’t know the full context. It’s about capturing that spark of joy or humor in my art.

As someone running a small art business, what’s the hardest part of staying creative while also managing the business side?

Running a small art business means constantly juggling multiple tasks, which is no surprise, but it’s challenging when the art itself isn’t the main focus. Right now, social media is a big hurdle for me. Instagram has changed so much—it used to be something I could do quickly and effortlessly, but now it demands a lot more time and strategy to get my art seen. That’s frustrating because it pulls me out of the creative flow. Instead of spontaneously capturing a moment, I have to think strategically about what makes a good photo or video for a post or reel. It’s not fun to feel like I’m forcing myself to film or take photos when I’m not in the mood. I’m working hard to bring the joy back into my daily process because creating art is so fulfilling and has a positive impact on me. My goal is to rediscover that sense of flow while managing the business side.

Social media plays a big role in sharing art today. How do you feel about showing your work (and yourself) online? Does it energize you, or sometimes feel like pressure?

I’m not going to lie—I hate showing my face online. I only recently started doing it, and I’m still getting used to it. When I began, I quickly trained myself to share my art on Instagram because I knew it was important for visibility. That part became second nature, and I didn’t find it too difficult to post my work. But with the way social media has evolved, I’ve been experimenting with showing my face more to connect with my audience. I’m not sure if I’ll keep doing it long-term, but for now, I’m trying it out to get more comfortable. It’s definitely something I’ve had to practice, and it still feels like a bit of a challenge.

Read more about the benefits of being surrounded by art.

Are there any rituals, routines, or mindsets that help you stay grounded in your work, especially during tough times?

My dog has been a lifesaver these past few months, keeping me grounded. Taking him for walks at least three times a day forces me to get out, which is incredibly healthy for my mind. Playing with him also helps. When I’m feeling stuck or uninspired, I keep creating, even if it’s something simple. I’ll work on smaller pieces, like my flower designs or eye mirrors, where the color combinations are straightforward. These pieces allow me to experiment with new colors in a familiar shape, which feels manageable. Even though I’ve made these designs many times, each one is unique. Starting with something small gets me moving again, rather than overthinking or procrastinating. If I’m not in the mood, I’ll work for a short time and head home early, but I make sure to show up and do something instead of avoiding it altogether.

Has your relationship with your art changed over time? What does it give you now that maybe it didn’t in the beginning?

My relationship with my art has definitely evolved. Initially, I was stepping into uncharted territory with tufting, and since there weren’t many people doing it, I faced uncertainty and nerves. I started with pieces like the eye mirror because they were functional and relatable, helping people understand my work when tapestries weren’t yet popular. Back then, I was very practical, focusing on showcasing my art and getting it out there. Now, I’m much more confident in what I do. From the start, I’ve prioritized creating for myself first, not just to please others. While I want people to enjoy my work, it’s important that it feels authentic to me, not like I’m chasing trends or approval. That’s why I avoid making custom designs, like someone’s pet in their favorite colors—it turns my work into production, which isn’t creative for me. My process is about exploring colors and letting them come to life organically. I usually draw by hand, avoiding tools like projectors to keep things intuitive. I might start with a loose idea of two or three colors, but I never plan the full palette because my mood or something I notice, like a color I see on a walk to the studio, will influence the piece as I work. This freedom to adapt and experiment is what makes my art fulfilling now, and it’s something I didn’t fully embrace in the beginning.

Read our article on how different colors can affect mood and atmosphere.

What do you hope people feel or experience when they encounter your pieces in real life?

I hope my pieces create a sense of connection for people, whether through the colors or the emotions they evoke. It doesn’t always have to tell a complete story; sometimes it’s just about capturing a moment—like needing a burst of sunshine in your life. The colors and shapes can evoke comfort, humor, or warmth. I want people to smile or feel uplifted when they pass by my work, maybe recalling a moment of kindness during a tough time. I’ve heard of my pieces being gifted to someone who lost a loved one, and I find that deeply meaningful. Instead of giving flowers that fade, my art offers something lasting—a reminder that things will be okay, even in difficult times. That’s what I love about what my work can do. Discover how colors shape our emotions and environments.

How do your pieces fit into an interior space—do you think about how they interact with home decor or the feeling of a room?

Growing up, I often visited my mom’s aunt and uncle, who were surrounded by sculptures and paintings from artists they had met. Their home felt like an adventure—my sister and I would discover new stories in the art or revisit pieces we loved. That experience shapes how I see my work in interior spaces. My pieces don’t need much room or special conditions; they’re versatile and can fit anywhere—on a wall, near the floor, or even in a kitchen, like hanging a sausage piece for fun. They tell their own story without overwhelming a space. I encourage people not to overthink creating a perfectly curated home. Art should make you happy and inspire you to explore your own space. You can always move things around, so my hope is that people feel free to hang my work wherever it brings them joy.

Do you follow interior design trends, or do you prefer to create in your own lane regardless of what’s popular?

I don’t follow interior design trends at all. I enjoy looking at magazines and getting inspired, but I don’t focus on things like the “color of the year” because that’s not how I work.

My approach to colors comes from what I’m drawn to in the moment—what I’ve seen or felt recently. Early on, I was aware of what might appeal to others, and I’d discuss it with a friend who shared my studio. She’d suggest neutral tones to balance my bold colors, and I tried it, but I quickly realized that working with beige, gray, or muted tones like “blue-gray” or “off-white” doesn’t excite me. Those subdued colors are common in interior design, but they don’t spark joy for me. Growing up, clothing options were limited before fast fashion, and I remember a school friend who designed socks with colorful soles—red, green, blue, yellow—to reflect your mood, but they were hidden under black uppers. I thought, why not show the colors? That moment made me realize how much I value bold, visible colors. People often stop me on the street to say my colorful style makes them smile, or they wish they could wear colors like I do. For me, it’s not something I overthink—it’s just who I am. So, while I don’t mind looking at trends, they don’t drive my work. I create in my own lane.

Great artists and designers are often recognized not for conforming to trends, but for their distinctive style and originality. Read here why the best artists and designers break the rules and ignore trends

Do you have any dreams or plans for your art or business in the future—new directions, projects, or something you’re excited to explore?

I’m currently preparing for an exhibition next year, which I’m excited about, and I plan to experiment more with my work over the summer. I have one or two additional projects lined up for next year that I can’t share yet, but I’m looking forward to revealing them.

My biggest dream is to open my own small gallery space where I can collaborate with other artists on exhibitions. That’s a long-term goal I’m working toward. For now, I’m also focusing on some fun projects and settling into a calmer rhythm. The past year and a half have been tough, so I think it’s important to have moments of stillness. Sometimes you need to pause and recharge, and I’m looking forward to finding that balance.

Lastly, what keeps you going? What fuels your persistence, even when the creative road gets tough?

What keeps me going is that I can’t imagine doing anything else. I know I’m doing what I’m meant to do, and I’m confident in my skills. When things get tough, I remind myself that setbacks aren’t about my art or abilities—they’re just part of life. Creating is what pulls me out of those low moments. Even if a piece only makes me smile for a second when I finish it, I know it can bring me joy or make me laugh later on. That’s what fuels me. No matter how bad a day is, creating is the most important part—it’s what keeps me going.

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