From Persepolis to the Studio: How Ancient Columns Became a Hex Sign
Some ideas arrive slowly, like dust settling after centuries. This one came to me in our library, surrounded by shelves of well-loved books, while rereading one of my archaeology volumes on ancient sites and architectural forms. I’ve returned to Persepolis many times over the years—first as a student, then as a lifelong admirer of how humans have always tried to leave something beautiful and lasting behind.
I majored in archaeology because I was fascinated by what survives. Columns, tools, fragments of painted walls—objects created not only for beauty, but for function, ritual, and endurance. The columns of Persepolis, in particular, have always stayed with me. Tall, rhythmic, and deliberate, they were designed to hold enormous weight while remaining elegant. Even in ruin, they still speak.
That idea—strength without harshness, structure without rigidity—felt especially resonant as I returned to the studio.
As someone who loves antiques, I’m constantly drawn to objects that have lived many lives: furniture worn smooth by hands, books with cracked spines, painted surfaces softened by time. Ancient architecture is the oldest form of that same impulse. It’s human intention preserved in material. When I began sketching this hex sign, I wasn’t trying to replicate columns literally, but to translate their rhythm into pattern—petal-like forms radiating outward, balanced symmetry, repeated shapes that echo the idea of support and endurance.
The color palette followed naturally. Deep blue like night sky and carved stone in shadow. Warm sandstone tones reminiscent of sunlit ruins. Muted greens and antique gold to suggest age, wisdom, and continuity. Each dot and curve was added slowly, intentionally—much like the way ancient builders worked, one measured action at a time.
Because this piece felt rooted in permanence, I knew it needed a spell—something not flashy or dramatic, but steady. The spell on the back is about standing, holding, and remaining. It speaks to patience, balance, and building something that can weather time. Just as columns were meant to support halls and ceremonies, this piece is meant to act as a visual anchor in a home or studio.
The back reads:
By stone and star, by hand and heart,
I call the strength that does not part.
Like columns rising, calm and true,
May balance stand in all I do.
Let patience root, let wisdom stay,
Let beauty hold the weight of days.
What I build now, let it endure,
With steady hands and purpose sure.
So it stands. So it holds. So it remains.
This hex sign is not only decorative; it’s a quiet talisman. A reminder that what is made with care—whether a column, a book, or a painting—carries meaning forward. That endurance doesn’t have to be loud. That beauty can hold weight.
In many ways, this piece brings together everything I love: archaeology, antiques, folk art, symbolism, and the act of making something by hand with intention. It’s ancient inspiration translated into a modern ritual object—one that honors the past while living fully in the present.
What we build matters. And sometimes, the oldest ideas are the ones that hold us best.