When Roots Begin to Behave Like Stories
When I draw twisting botanicals—roots curling into spirals, vein-like lines threading through petals—I often feel as though I’m tracing something older than the plant itself. These forms never stay purely botanical. They begin to resemble pathways, choices, memories, or quiet forces guiding a life forward. In my symbolic world, roots become the architecture of destiny: stretching, looping, returning, reaching. They echo the ancient belief, found in Baltic and Slavic mythology alike, that fate is not a straight line but a woven, living thread.
Roots as the First Language of Destiny
In many mythic traditions, the earliest symbols of fate were not written words but natural patterns—branching rivers, intertwined vines, knotwork, the spiral of growth buried in a seed. Roots, especially, were seen as the earth’s handwriting. In Slavic folklore, they were pathways for ancestral knowledge; in Baltic stories, they acted as unseen lines connecting the living to the spirit of the land. When I let roots twist across a composition, I feel this lineage. They begin to speak fate’s language: subtle, intricate, not fully decipherable yet deeply felt.
Vein Motifs as Emotional Pathways
The vein motifs in my work—thin glowing lines appearing within petals or silhouettes—carry a similar symbolism. They feel like inner threads rather than outer structure. These vein-lines often appear where emotion gathers: around a blooming centre, near a symbolic heart, along the edge of a figure dissolved into shadow. They behave like conduits for intuition, carrying something luminous through the artwork. In mythology, fate was rarely external; it flowed within. These glowing veins mirror that inward pull, connecting emotional truth to the broader web of destiny.
Twisting Forms and the Nonlinear Nature of Fate
Baltic and Slavic mythologies rarely imagined destiny as fixed. Instead, they envisioned a pattern that responded to character, choice, spirit, and circumstance. Fate twisted like willow branches, folded like soil layers, spread like mycelium beneath the forest floor. Twisting botanicals visually capture that nonlinearity. A root that loops back on itself feels like a life lesson returning. A sudden split in the line feels like a crossroads. A woven cluster of tendrils feels like community, ancestry, or shared path. These visual metaphors invite the viewer to feel fate not as rigidity, but as a living system.
Glow as the Luminous Thread
Glow plays a crucial role in shaping these metaphors. When light travels along a twisting root or pulses inside a vein, it behaves like a guiding thread—what many cultures called the “bright path.” In Slavic storytelling, destiny sometimes appeared as a gleaming strand, fragile yet unbreakable. In my artwork, glow becomes that strand. It reveals where energy flows, where decisions bloom, where intuition becomes visible. Glow turns roots from simple organic shapes into illuminated routes through the subconscious.
Shadow as the Folded Depth of Myth
If glow marks the visible thread, shadow marks the hidden one. Many myths speak of destiny woven partly in light, partly in darkness. Shadowed roots in my compositions feel like those unspoken parts of a life—the paths not taken, the memories buried, the protective forces working unseen. Soft darkness gives depth to the twisting forms, reminding us that fate is not fully transparent. Some threads reveal themselves only when we are ready to look.
Symbolic Figures Intertwined with Root-Paths
When symbolic figures merge with these twisting botanicals, their silhouettes begin to feel guided by something larger. Roots wrapping gently around a torso may evoke protection or inherited wisdom. Tendrils rising toward a face can suggest insight, awakening, destiny brushing against awareness. These figures don’t appear trapped—they appear connected. In them, fate is not an external force but an intimate weave between the self and the natural world.
Destiny as a Botanical Phenomenon
Seeing destiny through botanical forms fundamentally changes its mood. It becomes organic rather than predetermined, sensitive rather than rigid. A root can break, regrow, reroute. Veins can thicken with light. Paths can multiply. This is what feels emotionally true to me: that our lives unfold like plants—guided by inner codes, shaped by environment, strengthened by cycles, altered by unexpected turns. Twisting botanicals express this beautifully. They let fate feel alive.
Where Mythology Meets the Inner Landscape
Ultimately, roots of destiny emerge from both myth and emotion. Baltic and Slavic traditions offer the symbolic vocabulary; my intuitive practice offers the imagery; the viewer provides the meaning. Twisting botanicals become threads of fate not because they dictate a story, but because they help us recognise the invisible structures shaping us.
In their looping, glowing, shadow-soft forms, we find a reminder that destiny is not a straight journey. It is a braid—tender, complex, and always growing beneath the surface.
