Even now, I can still feel the excitement of holding my first acrylic in my hands.
It was not just another print or file. I was my character, huge in the lights but an angel glinting slightly with light − lucid, thick, and somehow fleshy.
My art had only existed in pixels for years − glowing from behind glass screens, shared, and liked, then quickly swiped out of view. But this was different. This was real.
The edges glowed in a manner which made every color feel richer, every line more deliberate. I picked it up and gave it a roll between my fingers, where it captured the tiniest rainbow thrown by the window. For a moment, I didn’t feel as though I had made it; instead, it felt as if it were always there, just waiting to be seen in this way.
When Imagination Turns Physical
Making art is often an act of faith. You spend hours pouring yourself into a digital canvas, hoping that someone somewhere will feel something when they come across it. But when that art is something you can touch − a model of Monika, one of your acrylic standees − it feels like you are rewarding that trust.
The see-through quality of the acrylic is not just to show off the work; it provides it with dimension. It provides you with a feeling of presence. The design hovers above, not printed on something, but in it − floating in clear space.
And all of a sudden, it’s not just “a design” anymore. It’s a little world.
A moment of your imagination that has learned to stand.
The Emotional Quiet of Success
“What does success look like for an artist?” is a question I’ve heard more times than I care to remember.
For me, it was the feeling of having something that I once doubted would even matter.
A quarantine hobby, my acrylic standees became memorials for that quiet success − evidence that creativity doesn’t have to be enormous, or viral, to feel significant. Watching fans show them off on their bookshelves, on their desks or even hung up next to posters provided something social media never could: a sense of permanence.
Every artist should have that opportunity.
See also: Why Your Business Website Needs a Mobile-First Design
What the Clear Edges Represent
Those clear edges for me now represent something much more profound. It breathes for me something about the clarity that you have to have created − not so much in a self-doubt capacity, but in when I speak of it, what I’m speaking on is like cutting through and being able to say, “This is yours. This belongs here.”
They remind me that creativity is not fragile; it’s adaptable. That good design, like good feeling, doesn’t have to shout. It just needs to be honest.
Standing Still, Standing Proud
My first acrylic standee is still on my desk. Whenever I see it, I am reminded of what art is supposed to do − not just be but connect.
There’s no movement, no blinking, but it says more than any post ever could.
For one thing, for once, my art doesn’t just live only in imagination − it stands on either side of me.
