A big part of being a kid was about finding doors.
These often weren’t in houses. We looked for them between stone circles and in the hollows of trees - tiny, sacred moments of crossing between this world and another. Thin points, we used to call them. It was in those places that our stories grew stronger and wilder than us; they became, for a while, our reality.
The older I get, the harder it is to find my way back to that feeling. When I am successful, it seems like I am brushing against yet another membrane - another thin point through which the mythologies of the past might trickle in.
I designed these objects for exploring such a gateway. Nowadays they are well-worn and retired - but they were once trusty companions to our hero, jumping fearlessly with him between worlds. Perhaps they are still up to the challenge.
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