When I was still finding my rhythm as a gilder, I made a piece that took nearly three weeks — hand-prepared gesso, delicate layers, patient burnishing… the whole sacred dance.
One night, I sat alone with it under a lamp.
The gold shimmered like it was breathing.
Like it knew something I didn’t.
It felt timeless.
And for a moment, so did I.
The next day, someone messaged me on Instagram asking:
“Looks nice! How much for a similar one?”
I went blank. Not because I didn’t have a price, But because something deeper hit me:
I had learned how to gild. But I hadn’t learned how to price the invisible.
Not the years of failing quietly. Not the silence it took to understand gold. Not the fact that this piece might outlive me.
That day, I made a quiet promise: I will no longer price my work for approval. I will price it for its power. And that’s what this letter is about.
There’s an invisible thread running through the most meaningful art.
Not just in how it’s made — but in how it’s held.
It lives in the hands that shape it, and in the hearts that recognize it. A silent understanding between those who create, and those who truly see.
Let’s Learn: The 3-Point Attention Audit
Want to sharpen your focus—and your quality of life? Do this short weekly audit (just 10 mins):
1. What caught your eye, but didn’t deserve it?
→ Doomscrolling? Comparison? Clickbait?
2. What deserved your attention, but didn’t get it?
→ A real conversation? A walk? Your own thoughts?
3. What are you unconsciously mirroring?
→ Check: Is the pace you move at—and the way you speak, create, or show up—truly yours? Or something you picked up without noticing?
Write these down weekly.
You’ll start to see the threads you’re tangled in—and the ones you want to follow.
A Thought to Reflect On
Do you not throw old perfume bottles like me?
If yes, I think I know why.
It’s probably because scent is memory in disguise.
One whiff—and you’re back in that room, that year, that version of you.
Funny how the smallest things carry the biggest stories.
An old T-shirt that you refuse to give away, A childhood TV jingle, a dried flower pressed between pages of an old book
So here’s something to think about this month:
What’s one beautiful thing you own — or have made — that carries weight?
Take a moment today—hold it, smell it, wear it, read it—and write down the story it holds. You might be surprised what surfaces.
💌 Before You Go…
I write just one letter a month. That’s it.
For artists, thinkers, and seekers,  who still believe that beauty belongs in the real world—not just on screens.
If this resonated with you, forward it to someone who might enjoy it too. Share it with a friend here or simply reply and say hello.
And if you’re already part of this gilded little circle—thank you. For showing up. For staying curious. For choosing beauty in a world that rushes past it.
