Three circles in…
A long time ago in Norse mythology, Baldr, the god of light, beauty, and purity, was killed not by an enemy, but by his blind brother Hodr.
Simply because someone else placed the dart in his hand and pointed him toward his brother.
That story stayed with me for days
Not for its tragedy but for what it reveals:
Sometimes, destruction doesn’t come from darkness.
It comes from blindness. From absence. From a truth no one dared to tell.
This became the seed of my new artwork.
A few months ago, I received a message on Instagram.
They’d been following my work for a while, drawn to my detailing and intricacy, they said, but this time, the ask was different.
“Can you design something for our brand? Something rooted in mythology. We want Baldr and Hodr. An arrow. And intricate patterns. One Victorian. One minimal. Black and white. No gold and digital.”
Two things immediately stood out:
- No gold.
- Primarily digital, though they still wanted a handmade version as a keepsake.
Challenge accepted.
It forced me to step outside my usual materials and process. No gold. New texture. New tools.
Just pure concept and clean execution. And that made it interesting.
This is the first reveal, shared only here, with the people who’ve been part of this journey.
Let’s Learn: Designing Without Your Default
Working on this piece reminded me that constraints aren’t just creative limitations, they’re filters. They show you what matters.
Because when you strip away your usual strengths, you learn with what’s left. You also realise what you’ve been relying on, sometimes without knowing.
When I’m working with gold, I know how to create impact. But when that tool is taken away? I lean deeper into design thinking.
Ask: What do you assume makes your work strong?
Then: Try removing it. What’s left is your true skill.
A Thought to Reflect On
When I read about Baldr and Hodr and Loki’s role in setting it all in motion, it reminded me:
Some wounds are not visible. Some arrows are handed to us. But we still get to choose whether we let them fly.
Every artwork carries a story.
Some of joy. Some of glory. Some of grief.
Frida Kahlo’s The Wounded Deer is a perfect example.
A deer with her face, pierced by arrows not just a visual statement, but a response to real pain after a failed surgery and heartbreak.
She apparently painted it to process.
I may not be Frida Kahlo.
But I know what it’s like to create from a place that hurts.
To bring meaning to things we may never fully understand.
💌 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.
