As a child, she loved the pipe cleaners in the dusty corner of every stationery shop.
Fluffy, flexible, and slightly ridiculous—they could become anything: a curly-tailed dog, a wonky butterfly, a lopsided crown.
No glue, no rules. Just twist, bend, shape. Her hands knew joy before her mind called it “art.”
Years passed. She became an illustrator—fluent in lines and layers, pixels and print.
But somewhere between deadlines and screens, the softness disappeared.
Until one day, while sorting old boxes, she found a bag of faded pipe cleaners.
On impulse, she twisted one into a dog with curly ears.
When a friend saw it, she went silent, then whispered:
"This looks like Dodo… My dog who passed away last year."
And just like that, something clicked:
Even a fuzzy wire could hold a memory.
She began sculpting seriously—learning how to shape ears, tails, postures that felt real.
She studied body language, matched pipe cleaner textures to fur types, mixed colors to recreate that one brown patch on the nose.
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A shy British Shorthair with a tucked tail, made to look like a nervous toddler.
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A senior golden retriever, bent with age, but still smiling.
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A cloud-like Bichon, hugging a sock—“He never let go of my shoes,” the client laughed, teary-eyed.
People started coming to her, not just for art, but for something to hold onto:
A goodbye gift.
A birthday for a still-here fur baby.
A tribute to a pet from childhood whose photo was long lost, but whose memory remained crystal clear.
She called her studio Twisttale—a tale told in twists.
She says, “I’m not a sculptor. I’m not a big artist.
I just use soft lines to help people keep what was softest in their lives.”
None of her pieces are perfect.
Some are a little crooked. Some lopsided.
But somehow, they look exactly like the pet that lives in your heart:
goofy, stubborn, fluffy—and loved forever.
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