Women’s Stories – Lena Maikon
A conversation with our Lena – the queen of hands and threads.
If you’re smart, she’ll be the first person you notice when you walk into the studio. One glance — and your eyes are drawn to her corner, where the magic happens: among the sketches, yarns, and models. There’s nothing Lena can’t do when she’s holding a hook and a thread.
She actually started out as a mathematician (!), but thankfully, she discovered she’s so much more. Today, she channels her creative-analytical mind into solving complex crochet challenges and crafting mesmerizing execution charts. She likes to say she’s not a designer — but for the past five years, she’s been bringing fresh ideas and deep interpretations to the table. She’s the beating heart of our creative processes.
Lena’s also full of style and knows every designer and fashion label worth knowing — and honestly, we all secretly want to be her when we grow up. Her story, honesty and directness, make every day in the studio much more fun and full of surprises — and they spark in all of us the urge to make something with our hands.
Give it a try
Can you introduce yourself?
My name is Lena Maikon. I’m in my fifties. I live with my husband, Sasha, and we have two sons — Ilay, 19, and Oz, 16. And no, despite being teenagers, they’re both wonderful and don’t give us a hard time. Well — aside from maybe eating us out of house and home.
I actually love young people. I know they’re different from us, and I don’t try to make them otherwise. They live in a different era, with different opportunities. I’m endlessly curious to observe and be part of their world in any way I can.
I live in Givatayim, but I adore big cities — Tel Aviv is one of my favorites. Commuting there every day, working in a historic building near Old Jaffa, is a joy. Walking through Jaffa in the morning — past the flea market, along Sderot Yerushalayim — it’s always a breath of fresh air.
Tell us about your work? What field do you come from?
At iota, I’m part of the design team. That means I’m involved in every step of product development — from the first idea to the final piece. We create custom yarns and cords to match the exact needs of each new design. I research, adapt, and sometimes invent crochet techniques to bring those ideas to life. I often make the very first prototype myself — I’m the first one to see the dream take shape.
That first version is rarely the final one. We tweak, refine, try again — until it feels just right. Then comes the next part of my job: documenting the process.
Crochet, like programming, has a technical language — universal and precise. There’s also a visual language, where each stitch is represented by a symbol. But none of that matters if you don’t understand the person on the other end. How will they read it? How can I make it easier? How do I reduce mistakes and shorten the learning curve? I find that challenge deeply engaging.
We work with a group of women in Turkey. In the past — back when the world felt more stable — we’d travel to Istanbul and meet them in person before starting new designs. We’d talk, laugh, learn to read each other’s minds. These days, that’s not possible. But we’ve found new ways: we send instructions, videos, diagrams, photos. We build bridges through words, images, symbols — and somehow, it works.
This isn’t the path I thought I’d take. I studied math and programming, got a degree in statistics, even tried teaching. Until I was thirty, it never occurred to me that I could be a designer. Creativity was always around me — in my community, in my friends — but I never saw it in myself.
Then something changed. I saw a friend wearing a simple square crochet hat, and suddenly thought: I could do better. I wanted to crochet — not just hats, but everything. That was the beginning of an obsession.
I started a brand called Leninka and spent years designing knitwear — from socks and hats to coats and trousers. I crocheted shoes, rugs, home accessories, worked with design boutiques, sold on Etsy, published six crochet books. I found a world where I finally felt at home.
But as is often the case, that world didn’t offer financial stability. Eventually, I had to stop. I even considered returning to my “official” profession. And then I saw a job post from iota. I looked at it and instantly knew: this is my place. My language. My home. I had zero doubt.
What inspires you?
Inspiration can come from anywhere. Sometimes it’s a material — yarn, rope, wire, thread — that sparks the urge to try a familiar technique, because that exact combination creates a perfect texture. Other times, I discover a new crochet method (there are so many!) and instantly see how it could become part of a design. Even the tools themselves can be inspiring — they’re an essential part of the process.
I’m also inspired by architecture. I mentally translate shapes into crochet forms. I see a tile pattern and want to recreate it with stitches. I want to use yarn to mimic wood and metal structures. To prototype ceramic forms in crochet. I’m fascinated by the idea of blending traditional techniques with modern materials to create something truly contemporary.
How has the current period influenced your inspiration and creativity?
I joined iota during the early days of the COVID pandemic. At the time, alongside our usual product lines, we developed DIY crochet kits for people stuck at home during lockdowns. I remember arriving in a completely silent Jaffa. Despite its beauty, the atmosphere was heavy. There was no clear reason for hope. The world was already changing, and it was scary.
But I would walk into the studio, start working, talk to my colleagues — and slowly sink into the world of imagination and design, which we somehow managed to keep building.
Since then, things have only become more difficult. What’s happening now is impossible to ignore. Each of us feels it deeply. And still — we create. We keep going. We support ourselves and each other.
I’m endlessly grateful for a place like iota. A place I can walk into every day — and just work, work, work.
Tell us a story about a dream that came true. How did you make it happen?
My dreams are pretty simple. I always wanted a family. Children. I wanted to be happy, to be at peace with myself and others. I wanted the people I love to never know sadness or hardship. And I want to keep creating — for as long as I have the strength and life to do it.
Maybe my biggest dream is never to stop dreaming. Some of it has already come true. Some, I hope, still lies ahead.
A life tip / exhibition / album / motto
Lately, I’ve been to the Gesher Theatre twice — and both shows were unforgettable.
The first was Richard III, directed by the young and incredibly promising Israeli director Itay Tiran. Despite the Shakespearean language, the play felt chillingly modern. It’s sharp, relevant, full of the dread that comes with power and destruction.
The second was Crime and Punishment, directed by Russian director Alexander Molochnikov. Yes — it’s a musical, which may sound strange for Dostoevsky, but that’s what makes it so powerful. The entire production is pure darkness, with no redemption.
I used to think Raskolnikov deserved empathy. Now I know better — there’s no justification for evil. None.
I also watched the series Bad Boy. Despite the heavy subject matter, it made me laugh and cry at the same time. I fell in love with Daniel Chen — not the character, the person. I watched all his stand-up and interviews. He’s incredibly talented.
And the show? A masterpiece. The boy who plays the young Daniel (Almog Panzan) is simply unbelievable.
What are you working on these days?
I’m always working on something new — something I hope will one day live not only in our studio but in your homes too. We recently finished a few pieces for our kids’ capsule collection, and hopefully, there’s more to come. It’s just the beginning.
We’ve also been experimenting with ropes — revisiting ideas we’ve touched on before. It’s not always easy — what looks ready often hits production difficulties.
There are some exciting collaborations in the works — some already happening, some still dreams. But even dreams take effort. That’s how they come true.
What’s your wish for the upcoming year?
My wish for all of us is this: never stop. Keep believing, creating, dreaming — no matter what.
And may everyone return. So we can finally breathe again.
