Emma’s Stepping-Stone Shoes
What is the origin of your shoes?
These are my favourite shoes, I purchased them from a fashion store in Warrnambool whilst I was working there. They were an expensive purchase for me. I was drawn to the leather lace work, the colour and the wedge - I can’t walk in heels without looking like a newborn calf!
What have they done?
As someone who hates wearing shoes, wearing anything on my feet often feels uncomfortable. I much prefer to be barefoot with my feet in the Red Dirt around my hometown of Broken Hill. These shoes came into my life when I was stepping into new rooms - rooms I never thought I would find myself in as an Aboriginal woman and Artist. I feel like they elevated me physically and in the sense that I was choosing to elevate myself and how I wanted people to see me - as creative, talented, intelligent and with a lot to offer.
They helped me feel put together when I was internally struggling to find my space in unfamiliar places, with no comprehension of the importance of holding my ground, literally standing strong in my beliefs and the reasons I wanted to honour my culture and myself. I have literally worn them to death, and as I reflect on that, perhaps that version of myself is now dead too. I know my place, I know what I’m capable of, despite others often underestimating my ability as a creative and a businesswoman, working in a place with mostly male counterparts.
What do they signify?
To me, these shoes are symbolic of stepping into myself - a new version of myself. Feeling feminine as a strength, as opposed to being less than those I was working with. My shoes remind me to always tread carefully and purposefully. They also remind me that the path I walk is a pathway for other women - those walking beside me, and those who are yet to walk the path. I look at these worn shoes with a deep sense of pride - they were worth the price tag, just as I am worthy of the places and spaces they have transported me to.
What did/do you love about them?
Initially, it was the leather lace, the deep earthy colour and the wedge, but over time they became so comfortable and versatile. They went with me everywhere and could be worn with just about anything
Is there anything you dislike about them?
The fact that they are no longer functional shoes. but I love what they have transformed into.
What do you think would happen to them if you didn't give them a second life? How would you feel about this fate?
The fact that they have sat in my hallway for at least a year whilst I debated what to do with them highlights my attachment to these shoes. I think I would need to wait until I was in a declutter mood to actually part with them. I considered donating them to Goodwill, but knew they were really in no shape for someone else to wear or salvage. So inevitably, they would have ended up in a landfill.
Why do you want to deconstruct and/or transform these shoes?
My strong attachment to inanimate objects means they are close to my heart, and the opportunity to keep them in my life was such a glimmer.
The satisfying feeling of peeling leather from plastic. Emma Stenhouse, filmed by Alex Sherlock, 2026.
Emma, photographing a flat lay of her shoes in a circle formation. Image: Alex Sherlock, 2026
What did you make from your shoes, and were there any materials left over?
I made a sculptural neckpiece and a hairpiece, and I still have the wedge and insoles left to create with. These pieces will require me to cut them down and really think about how I can create something useful with them. I was thinking the sole could be cut, sliced up to make a game of noughts and crosses... a game of strategy.
How do you feel about the transformation? Do the things you have made feel like a continuation of the shoe's story, a rupture, rebirth, or something else entirely?
I absolutely love my neckpiece and headpiece, I feel super proud and a bit powerful if I’m honest, especially to share that I have made it from my old shoes - so now they provide another opportunity for me to connect with others.
What did you learn from the process of deconstructing and reconstructing your shoes?
I had no idea of the inner workings of my shoe - the fact that there was a massive screw sitting right underneath my heel was a bit shocking. I was also a bit surprised at how many components were part of my shoe.
What was the most successful or rewarding part of the process?
Telling people that my neckpiece was previously my favourite shoes!
What did you find challenging, and how did you overcome those challenges?
Dedicating time to thoughtfully think about how I’d like to reimagine my shoes, and also reflecting on how emotionally attached I had become to them.
Has the process changed how you think about your other shoes, or how you acquire, care for, or dispose of shoes more generally?
Participating in this workshop has opened my eyes to the waste from our shoes on this planet, the reality of what that means, and has given me the opportunity to think about how to move forward with these materials that don't break down. I have previously been someone who has had several shoes for every occasion, going forward I will now be more selective in the style and quality of the shoe, along with an understanding of the origin of the materials used, and the impact of those being discarded.
What advice would you give someone considering doing this with a pair of their own shoes?
Think Big!!! Be creative and absolutely enjoy the process, even the challenges. lean in to the support and guidance on offer, and honour your connection with your shoe - whatever that looks like.
To find out more about Emma Stenhouse, you can visit her website or follow her on Instagram.
Pennie and Alex wish to thank Emma for her passion and advocacy for the This Is Not a Shoe project. We look forward to witnessing the next phase of her shoes’ lives!