August Moon Muse: Hadas Hayun

August Moon Muse

HADAS HAYUN

A Conversation on Stitching Motherhood, Design, and Slow Making

Hadas Hayun moves through her days with whimsical gravity; a painter’s eye, a stitcher’s patience, new-mother softness. In her Jaffa apartment colorful embroideries in progress sit atop the coffee table, a French press fills the air, Yehudit Ravitz low on the speakers- walls are layered with prints, sketches and framed embroideries; pattern collides with portrait, and the domestic is casually yet conversationally arranged with creation.

Hadas’s work is somewhere between illustration and object. It winds through books, prints and textiles; her embroideries, slow and intimate, have found their way into gallery contexts alongside her painted illustration practice. Hadas trained in commercial pattern work but moved back toward stitch as a counterweight: a slower, more deliberate making.

Home is both studio and salon alongside her husband Dima, a cinematographer. Hadas grew up in a household of artists and scholars, so dialogue and making have always been the family language. Now, with beautiful baby Lev at six months, that same generosity is being stitched into family life.

I met Hadas at the Fresh Paint fair, drawn to a large embroidery work about creativity that felt like a gentle provocation. “I thought I was an early bird, turns out I’m a late, late bloomer” stitched into textile landed exactly where I was- at a crossroads with my own creativity. The piece gave me permission to begin August Moon and now hangs atop my bed. Meeting her felt immediate and easy; our friendship unfolded naturally, and she went on to illustrate the August Moon universe, creating the artwork that turned a feeling into a world. I’m thrilled to introduce her to you!

Tell me about your journey as an artist. How did you arrive where you are now?

I started as a painter from the primal pull to create art. Then I did a master’s in textiles, got into industrial and commercial work, and spent years designing patterns for fashion houses and interior brands. It taught me discipline, to work quickly and efficiently- rolling with the pace of the fashion calendar. Embroidery came in as a counter: slow, meditative, intimate. After I married Dima, it became something I could do while we sat together on the couch in the evening- a quiet, shared time. Embroidery to me is healing, and it always brings me back to art.

Did you grow up surrounded by craft?

Yes. My mother painted our home in many colors and murals on the walls. That everyday decoration felt magical as a child and seeded my belief that creativity is part of domestic life.

How have you curated your home to reflect your practice and to spark Lev’s creativity?

Our home is a mix of works I love from artists I love, as well as things I make. I keep two of my own pieces out- one is an embroidery work in the living room. It was once for sale, but I couldn’t seem to part with it; it’s a dialogue between Dima and myself. I’m working on a big quilt for Lev so he can point at and learn from different images. I also have an embroidery corner where materials are always within reach- making for me has to be accessible.

Which parts of city life feed your work, and how do they influence family rhythms?

The city is a collage of textures- shopfronts, signage, fabrics, unexpected color combinations. That constant sensory layering influences pattern and palette. At home, it means we weave small rituals into everyday life rather than scheduling creativity as a separate project.

What practices do you do with Lev to nurture his visual sense?

We read a lot. I love books whose illustrations inspires me- like "TinTan VeHaNekudot" and "The Very Hungry Caterpillar." I made Lev a simple black-and-white sensory book: moons, stars, graphic shapes he loves. We talk about what we see in the street or at home; naming and noticing our surroundings.

How do you protect creative time for yourself amid parenting and design work?

I never begin the workday with admin or briefs. I start with something I want to make- a personal piece or research in reference books, and focus until about noon. That keeps my momentum and joy intact. For me, designers don’t get blocked; we show up and make. That is why this ritual is so important to me- a recharge.

Any family rituals that celebrate creativity?

I like to draw Dima. He enjoys being drawn, and it has become a little ritual- an offering and a lens. We both savor that exchange.

What do you hope for your family’s creative future?

I want creativity to be available and non-threatening. It can show up in the kitchen, in music, in play- maybe not traditional crafts at all. I’ll offer materials and alternatives to screens, but won’t impose. A friend warned me that Lev might only want to throw a ball, and I’m prepared for that. The point is to make space, not rules.