Nothing Is Ever Completely Sustainable. A Conversation with Nathan Slate

Nathan Slate is a sustainable fashion designer, ceramicist, multidisciplinary artist and founder of the independent fashion label SLATE. Living and working between the English countryside and the island of Madeira, his practice moves effortlessly between textiles, ceramics, natural pigments, scent and installation, blurring the boundaries between fashion, craft and contemporary art.

His work rarely begins with a sketch.

It might begin with rain.

Or clay.

Or the scent of essential oils.

Or a plant growing by the roadside.

"I focus on natural pigments, dyeing using the rain and a lot of textile work"

Although trained as a ceramicist, Nathan has never felt confined to a single medium. For him, every material has its own language, and every project is an opportunity to explore how people connect with the world around them. His work is as much about atmosphere as it is about objects. Garments are designed to be worn, certainly—but also to be touched, smelled and remembered.

"Making can involve all of our senses."

Listening to Nathan, it quickly becomes clear that certainty isn't something he is particularly interested in.

Ask whether a material is sustainable and he will probably answer with another question. Is silk sustainable if it depends on silkworm farming? Are synthetic fibres always worse if they survive decades longer than natural ones?

Can artificial intelligence become part of a more sustainable future, even if it consumes enormous amounts of energy?

For Nathan, sustainability is rarely a fixed destination or a badge to wear.

It is an ongoing conversation. One built on curiosity rather than certainty.

Making Less, Caring More

Over the past few years, Nathan has found himself thinking less about producing new things and more about the reasons people make them in the first place.

The fashion industry, he believes, has become trapped in a cycle of endless novelty. New collections replace old ones before they have had time to be lived in, while trends encourage people to consume faster than they can appreciate what they already own.

"We already have enough clothes in the world"

It is a simple sentence, yet it sits at the heart of everything he creates today.

Rather than designing garments for a season, Nathan wants to create pieces that people form relationships with—objects that feel closer to artworks than disposable products.

A favourite coat. A hand-dyed scarf. A jacket repaired instead of replaced.

Sustainability isn't only about choosing organic fibres or natural pigments.It is also about emotional durability.

The longer an object is loved, repaired and cared for, the more sustainable it becomes.

In the end, the most sustainable garment may simply be the one that never needs replacing.

Questions Instead of Labels

Nathan is careful with definitions.

He describes himself as a sustainable designer, yet almost immediately questions what the phrase actually means.

"Sustainability, it's a really difficult one"

His own studio combines rainwater, natural pigments, ceramics, natural fibres and botanical processes. Yet it also includes artificial intelligence, digital technology and, occasionally, synthetic materials.There is no contradiction in that, he believes. Only context.

A synthetic garment that lasts for thirty years may have a smaller environmental footprint than a natural fibre that quickly wears out and ends up in landfill. The material alone cannot tell the whole story.

Neither can the label attached to it.

Nathan also points to the contradictions surrounding technology.

Artificial intelligence is frequently criticised for its environmental impact, yet few people stop to consider the enormous amount of energy consumed every day by the digital platforms they use without a second thought—social media, cloud storage, messaging apps or streaming services.

For him, this reveals something much bigger than technology itself.

It reveals how little we still understand.

"There is a huge educational black hole"

"No one has the answers yet."

Perhaps that is why Nathan remains suspicious of simple definitions.

Every material carries a compromise.

Every creative decision involves responsibility.

Sustainability, is not about claiming perfection.It is about learning to ask better questions.

Learning to Slow Down

Unlike many artists, Nathan doesn't describe the pandemic as the defining crisis of his career.

"If anything, it brought me and a lot of other people closer to nature."

Lockdowns slowed the rhythm of everyday life. Suddenly people noticed parks, gardens, changing seasons and the simple pleasure of walking without a destination. Craftsmanship, nature and making things by hand began to feel valuable again.

"As horrible as the pandemic was,it also brought a lot of humanity back to people."

That renewed attention has never completely disappeared.

He sees it in the growing interest in slow living, in handmade objects and in everyday rituals that once seemed insignificant. People have begun, as he puts it, to "romanticise small moments"—morning coffee, sunlight through a window, the texture of linen, the smell of fresh rain. For Nathan, these moments are not a passing aesthetic trend.

The climate crisis is not only about carbon emissions, legislation or technological innovation.

It is also about the pace at which we choose to live.

Culture, has the power to slow people down long enough to notice what has always been there. An exhibition. A garment. A ceramic bowl. A walk through a forest.These experiences may not solve the climate crisis on their own, but they can quietly reshape the way people relate to the world around them.

Sometimes awareness begins with nothing more dramatic than paying attention.

One Step at a Time

Nathan rarely speaks about change in revolutionary terms. He distrusts dramatic solutions as much as simple definitions.

Real change, he believes, almost always begins unnoticed.

In the grand scheme of things, it just takes one step forward.If everyone makes that step, then change has happened.

There is something quietly optimistic about the way he describes progress.Not because he believes transformation is easy.Quite the opposite. Meaningful change is slow.

One day, he suggests, people look back and realise that the world has already begun to move in a different direction.

Respecting Tradition, Questioning Tradition

One of the most difficult conversations around sustainability, Nathan believes, lies in the space where ecology meets culture.

Many traditions are deeply loved and have shaped communities for generations.

Yet some of them also raise ethical or environmental questions that cannot simply be ignored.

There needs to be a respect for culture. And a respect for sustainability.

Neither should automatically cancel the other.

The challenge is finding ways to honour cultural heritage while remaining open to change.

Nathan also reminds us that responsibility is not distributed equally.

Individuals are often encouraged to focus on tiny everyday actions—refusing plastic straws or carrying reusable bags—while much larger environmental impacts continue to come from global industries and major economies.

Those personal choices still matter. They shape our values.They influence how we choose to live. But they cannot replace systemic change. Both scales of responsibility have to exist together.

Artists See the Future Differently

Have artists become educators?

Perhaps they always were.

Artists, he believes, capture something that society cannot always recognise in the present.

They're a picture of the zeitgeist. People understand it ten, twenty, thirty—even a hundred years later. In that sense, art becomes a conversation across generations.

The difficulty is that the meaning often arrives much later.

A painting, a sculpture or a garment may only reveal its full significance decades after it was created.

Artists do not necessarily teach through instruction.They ask questions.

They reflect the concerns of their time. Sometimes society simply needs longer to hear what they have been saying all along.

Nathan resists making broad statements about what artists lack.

Every artist, is different.That individuality is precisely what gives art its strength.

His own answer, however, is refreshingly practical.

Right now, I'm lacking money to support the arts.

Behind every creative practice lies a simple reality.

Ideas need time. Time needs resources.

And even the most thoughtful work cannot exist without the conditions that allow it to be made.

No Final Answer

As the conversation draws to a close, Nathan is asked what should happen tomorrow rather than five years from now.

He gently questions the distinction. After all, the planet has existed for millions of years.

Human timelines, he reminds us, are remarkably short.Tomorrow matters.

So do the years that follow.

Sustainability cannot be reduced to one perfect decision or one definitive solution.

It grows through continuity. Through paying attention. Through making thoughtful choices again and again.

Nathan never claims to have found the answer.

In fact, he seems suspicious of anyone who believes they have.

Instead, he leaves us with something far more valuable.

The willingness to keep asking.

To keep noticing.

And to keep creating with greater care for the people, the materials and the world we all share.