gildedheartstudio

[gildedheartstudio]

Specimen File: ABYSS-13

Abstract This specimen was recovered from a volcanic vent system on Planet 5812. Initially cataloged as inert geological matter, subsequent trials revealed the object to be a passive-responsive construct of unknown origin exhibiting behavior consistent with sentient design.

Field Journal — Personal Entry [ABYSS-13]

Archivist ID: 141.Q Date: 19/08/2131 Location: Debrief Station B

It was white-hot when the probe made contact.

Not radiant—contained. Like holding the heart of the fissure itself.

Heat saturated the shell evenly, no hotspots. Internal readings were stable. Controlled.

But as it rose from the vent, something changed.

The heat didn’t dissipate. It retreated.

By the time it broke surface, the shell was cold. Ice-cold. No cooling curve. No natural transition.

It shut down. Completely.

Not dead. Not inert. Preserved.

Gas pockets remain suspended inside, perfectly rounded. Filaments curled but intact. No movement.

The structure mimics volcanic vent shells—silicate casing, heavy minerals, organic trace patterns like frozen breath.

It hums when unobserved, perhaps it's a seed. No emissions. No measurable signal.

Just the sense that something inside is waiting.

This isn’t something that survived the deep.

It is something born of it.

What we call void— it calls home.

[gildedheartstudio]

Hi! I'm the artist behind Gilded Heart Studio.

I don’t really know what to call the things I make. Artifacts, maybe. Relics. Little personal myths or strange stories that happen to take physical form.

This whole thing started as a side project—a way to make the kinds of objects I couldn’t stop thinking about. Things that didn’t fit anywhere else. A little world inside a glass turtle. A stone heart engraved in 24k gold. Giant dice that feel like they came from a ruined temple. I like making pieces that feel excavated from a world that doesn’t exist. A relic from another timeline. Or something you find in the woods, half-covered in moss, humming with old magic.

My design process is chaotic. I don’t sketch something perfect and then build it. I chase an idea until it stops running. Most pieces go through 10–20 failed prototypes before they settle into themselves. Some stay unfinished for months—or years—until I learn the technique that finally unlocks them. I’ve learned to be okay with that.

I’m an engineering student, so yes, I do put those SolidWorks and Fusion classes to use (ask me how many times I’ve crashed the school computer trying to make a mold from a complex mesh). But these days I lean more into Nomad Sculpt, Blender, or honestly just sketching in a notebook like a little Victorian gremlin.

I love contrast. Hard with soft. Ancient with futuristic. Something brutal and minimal that still makes you feel something. I love when a piece feels like it’s from a civilization far more advanced—and more poetic—than ours. And what I really love about engineering is how sometimes, when it’s done right, it feels like magic. Like you’re holding something impossible in your hand. And maybe it didn’t come from math or code—maybe it came from putting old things together in a new way.

Every piece is made by me. Every design starts with a question.

Thanks for being here. I hope, as you wander through this little world I’ve built, something here makes you pause. Makes you feel. Makes you wonder. And maybe it brings a little magic to your world too.