Eliza Redmann
Photo by Rich Voltz
Happy Friday! We hope your day is unfolding smoothly so far! We've been on the hunt for a compelling story—and we’ve found one. Meet Eliza Redmann! Her journey truly knocked us out of our Birkenstocks. In 2018, Eliza was driving home when another car crashed into hers, leaving her with a significant brain injury. She never fully recovered: whenever she sees patterns, they appear to move and blur. What’s amazing is that this licensed architect, although unable to return to her regular job due to the injury, transformed her disability into a business—acoustic art, under the name: Folded Poetry! Today, Eliza decorates the walls of major national—and soon, international—corporations and is in the process of trademarking her unique invention. Let’s give it up for Eliza!
If you could fold time like a piece of paper, which moment in your life would you crease together to revisit over and over?
Not so much a moment, but a phase in my life—my early childhood in Minnesota. We had a beautiful setup, living in the backwaters of the Mississippi River. That time felt like a golden era, full of creativity, outdoor adventures, and carefree moments. It all came to an end when I was eight years old, after my father died. That’s when my childhood truly felt like it ended. So yeah, I’d like to be able to revisit this phase.
Imagine you could fold space like origami. Where would you make two places touch?
Nothing specific, but I’d choose a coastal city where I could literally swim in the ocean and crease it together with a mountain ski town. That way, I could ski in the mountains and swim in the ocean on the same day.
Is there a place like this somewhere?
Haha, maybe in Europe or Japan. I’ve heard Southern California might come close.
Would you rather have the ability to fold yourself into any small space or instantly unfold a complicated situation?
I’d choose to unfold a complicated situation, simply because it’s a skill that would serve me better in both my business and my family life.
If emotions could be folded like laundry, which ones would you tuck away neatly, and which would you leave in a messy pile?
I would tuck away shame and self-doubt. I’d leave joy, nostalgia, hope, and bliss in a messy pile—the ones I interact with on a daily basis.
What mystery would you unfold if you could?
Why bad things happen to good people.
