I’m working on 100 kitschy, design-inspired illustrations to pair with each of the Primitives, my on-chain framework that encodes an emotional vocabulary through color, form, and structure.

When I first built the emotional vocabulary, flowers were part of it. Each emotion-color pair had a corresponding flower, chosen through the lens of floriography and color theory. That early version was fully integrated. But the more I worked with it, the more it felt like baking the flowers into the system was too limiting. It closed off future possibilities, so I stripped them out and kept only the colors. That decision gave the framework the openness it needed, but I always knew I’d return to the flowers on their own terms.

That’s where I am now. I’m revisiting the original instinct, not to constrain the Primitives but to build a second layer around them. A layer rooted in floriography, Vanitas, color psychology, and a personal archive of memory and emotion.

The illustrations lean into kitsch, intentionally. There’s something compelling about using a playful, almost throwaway aesthetic to explore deeper emotional symbolism. That contrast feels honest to me. Some emotions hit like a sledgehammer, others like a cheap sticker on a notebook you’ve carried for years.

This isn’t about kitsch for the sake of it. It’s about finding resonance in symbols that have followed me for decades. The daisy, for example, has been in my work since high school. Sometimes as a nickname, sometimes as a tattoo on someone I loved. Always tied to something real.

I think the first question people might ask is, “Why flowers?”

Maybe it’s too on the nose that my mom’s name is Rosa (some call her Rose). Maybe it’s just coincidence that I’ve always linked flowers with the women in my life. But whenever I’ve bought flowers, I’ve thought about what they mean. The arrangement, the symbolism, the message I’m sending. Not only the color or form.

I’ve always been drawn to floriography, the symbolic use of flowers. It was formalized in the Victorian era, but the idea reaches back through ancient cultures. That sense of continuity, of something timeless being reinterpreted, is part of what makes it compelling to me.

This isn’t new. It’s just now coming to the surface in a more formal way.

None of these illustrations are for sale. That’s not the point. Like the Primitives, they’ll be minted on-chain so I can reference them later, build on them, and connect them to future projects. It’s about creating a layered, composable catalog. One that’s personal, but scalable.

In a space that can feel manic, with artists under pressure to generate attention constantly, I’ve chosen a slower path. One focused on meaning, connection, and longevity. That shift started with visualizing emotions, became the Primitives, and now extends into this floral layer.

These illustrations might look like cheap stickers, but to me they function as sacred symbols. Each one carries memory, emotion, and intention.

Each piece is part of a larger, living language.