I’ve always believed that a cozy home isn’t created by things — it’s created by feelings. Certain objects carry memories with them, and when you place them in your space, the room shifts a little. It becomes warmer, softer, more “you.”
That’s how I feel about the drawings my mom has made throughout my life.
They were everywhere when I was growing up — on the fridge, inside old books, tucked between homework sheets. Simple lines. Small characters. Nothing fancy. But they had a quiet comfort to them. Even now, when I see her drawings, it reminds me of a time when everything felt slower and safer.
Little Francky has that same feeling for me.
He’s minimal, but not empty.
Simple, but not cold.
When I look at him, it’s like a little moment of calm — the way certain childhood things have that strange ability to settle you, even as an adult.
That’s why I wanted to turn him into prints, not as decorations, but as small pieces of that feeling. Minimalist art doesn’t have to be stylish or “designed.” It can simply be something soft that gives a room a gentler mood.
When you place something like Little Francky on your wall — near your bedside, on a shelf, next to a plant — it doesn’t demand attention. It quietly becomes part of the room. It adds a bit of warmth without trying.
I think the reason minimalist art feels cozy is because it leaves space for you. Your own memories, your own emotions, your own interpretations fill the gaps. The simple lines become a mirror for whatever you’re carrying.
For me, that space is filled with childhood memories: my mom drawing at the table, the quiet scratch of a pencil, the feeling of watching her create something softly and effortlessly.
If Little Francky can bring even a small piece of that feeling into someone else’s home — that gentle, familiar kind of comfort — then it’s worth sharing him.
