Hope – Notecard
$5.00
This piece is the word 'Hope' built from layered quilled paper petals that fan outward like a sunflower in full bloom. The letters sit on top of hundreds of individually shaped leaf strips that radiate from the center, each one curved and pinned to create dimension and movement. The color shifts from deep coral and burnt orange at the top, through warm peachy tones, down to soft yellows and pale cream at the outer edges. Every petal was hand-rolled from narrow paper strips and shaped to catch light differently.
The construction here is what makes it work. I started with a white background and began layering from the center outward, building the letters first so they'd sit proud of the surface. Then came the petals, layer after layer, each one slightly offset so you can see the depth and the subtle color variations between them. The whole thing throws soft shadows that shift depending on where light hits it. There's no printing, no shortcuts. Just paper, glue, and the kind of repetitive patience that comes with understanding exactly how many curved shapes you need to fill a space.
The piece carries weight without being heavy. 'Hope' is a big word to put in someone's hands, but the softness of the construction and the warmth of the color palette keep it from feeling heavy-handed. It reads as earnest without being saccharine. You're looking at genuine effort here, and that effort shows in every overlapping petal and every slight variation in tone.
At 5x7, Hope becomes a gift-giving moment. The card front is filled with the full composition, warm coral bleeding to soft cream, the word readable and impactful even at smaller scale. The back is blank inside so you can write your own message. It feels like you're giving someone a piece of dimensional art they can display on a shelf or pin to a board before passing it along again.
This piece is the word 'Hope' built from layered quilled paper petals that fan outward like a sunflower in full bloom. The letters sit on top of hundreds of individually shaped leaf strips that radiate from the center, each one curved and pinned to create dimension and movement. The color shifts from deep coral and burnt orange at the top, through warm peachy tones, down to soft yellows and pale cream at the outer edges. Every petal was hand-rolled from narrow paper strips and shaped to catch light differently.
The construction here is what makes it work. I started with a white background and began layering from the center outward, building the letters first so they'd sit proud of the surface. Then came the petals, layer after layer, each one slightly offset so you can see the depth and the subtle color variations between them. The whole thing throws soft shadows that shift depending on where light hits it. There's no printing, no shortcuts. Just paper, glue, and the kind of repetitive patience that comes with understanding exactly how many curved shapes you need to fill a space.
The piece carries weight without being heavy. 'Hope' is a big word to put in someone's hands, but the softness of the construction and the warmth of the color palette keep it from feeling heavy-handed. It reads as earnest without being saccharine. You're looking at genuine effort here, and that effort shows in every overlapping petal and every slight variation in tone.
At 5x7, Hope becomes a gift-giving moment. The card front is filled with the full composition, warm coral bleeding to soft cream, the word readable and impactful even at smaller scale. The back is blank inside so you can write your own message. It feels like you're giving someone a piece of dimensional art they can display on a shelf or pin to a board before passing it along again.