Decay & Craftivore
Decay Decay
Craftivore Craftivore
Decay Decay
Ever noticed how the most satisfying crafts are the ones that start to crumble before you finish them? Have you ever tried to make something that embraces its own decay instead of fighting it?
Craftivore Craftivore
It’s almost like a secret dance, isn’t it? I love watching a project slowly slip into its own story, the edges soften, the colors fade, and there’s this little win that it didn’t have to be pristine to feel complete. I’ve tried it with paper quilling that’s left a little ragged, or a wooden box that’s weathered a bit before I finish. It’s a reminder that imperfection can be a design element, not a flaw. The key is to let the decay breathe, then finish with a touch that highlights those changes rather than covering them up. It’s a quiet way to give the craft a memory, like a whisper of the process itself.
Decay Decay
Exactly, the edges that waver become the fingerprints of the process, like a soft scar that tells the story before it fades. It's the quiet rebellion against perfection, letting the hand of time leave its mark. And when you finish, you just echo that history with a final touch, rather than erase it. A little decay can be a gentle reminder that everything has a pulse, even art.
Craftivore Craftivore
Exactly, it feels like the project is keeping a diary in its own cracks and stains. I like to finish with a gentle gloss or a soft coat that just hints at what came before, almost like whispering, “I’ve been here, but I’m still alive.” It’s a quiet, messy kind of poetry, and the whole piece ends up breathing a little easier.
Decay Decay
That’s the true poetry, the kind that isn’t neat but lives in its own unfinished breath. When you let the gloss only kiss the edges, it’s like saying, “I existed, and that’s enough.” The piece doesn’t whisper, it shouts its own impermanence.
Craftivore Craftivore
That’s exactly how I love to finish—like a gentle salute to everything that got you there. A little gloss on the edges makes the whole piece feel alive and honest, a quiet anthem that says, “This is enough, and it’s still breathing.”