Narrative, Made Material

A five-year collaboration between Studio TDD and the Lucas Museum of Narrative Art, spanning the Museum's collection and the Lucasfilm Archive — from concept to production.

Five years ago, when we first sat down with Tracey Bates, now LMNA CEO, and the rest of the Lucas Museum of Narrative Art team, I don't think any of us fully understood what we were starting. What began as a conversation about merchandise for a museum that didn't exist yet has become, quietly, the project I'm proudest of in my career. Not because of the scale of it, though the scale has been considerable — jewelry, apparel, ceramics, glass, a children's collection, collector boxes, objects spanning the full breadth of the Museum's collection and the Lucasfilm Archive itself. I'm proudest of it because of how it's been made, and who it's been made with.

There's a particular kind of trust required to do this work well, and the LMNA team has given us that trust from the beginning. They understand, in a way that's rare in licensing, that narrative doesn't stop at the edge of a canvas or a film frame — that a story can live just as legitimately in a piece of porcelain, a signet ring, or the weight of a t-shirt's cotton. They've never asked us to simplify an idea to make it easier to manufacture.

What I love most, though — and I don't think I've said this plainly enough before — is the sheer enjoyment of making things the traditional way. There's a satisfaction in traditional craft that nothing else replicates. Watching a porcelain R2-D2 come out of the kiln knowing that no two will ever be painted quite the same, because a person's hand painted them, not a machine. Choosing 1970s ceramic techniques over something faster because the object deserved the slower method. In an industry that increasingly rewards speed, LMNA has let us stay slow where it matters — and that's a gift I don't take for granted.

That same standard extends past the object itself. Packaging isn't an afterthought on this project; it's part of the story. If the object inside is a piece of narrative made material, the box, the tissue, the way something feels the moment it's lifted out — all of that needs to hold the same quality bar or the whole experience falls apart. We've spent as much time debating a box closure or a fabric-lined interior as we have debating a gold micron thickness, because the person opening that box deserves the same care as the person who painted what's inside it. Quality, for us, isn't a single checkpoint at the end of production. It's a standard applied at every single decision along the way — sourcing, construction, finish, presentation — and LMNA has never once let us lower it.

I come to this work from a background in fine art, with a real, personal connection to artists and to the discipline it takes to make something well. So when people ask what it means to design and produce museum merchandise for a collection like this, my honest answer is that it doesn't feel like merchandise at all. It feels like an extension of the same reverence for craft that drew me to art in the first place — just applied to a jewelry box instead of a canvas, a cookie jar instead of a sculpture. Five years in, with the Museum's doors about to open, I can say without hesitation that this collaboration has been the highlight of my career as a designer and producer. Not the highest-profile project, not the biggest, but the one where every single person involved — on both sides — cared enough to get it exactly right.

Narrative, made material. That's what we set out to do five years ago. I'm grateful we got to do it properly.

— Abi, Studio TDD