Lately, my Instagram feed has been filled with paper cutting art, shared by friends and creators whose hands seem impossibly steady and confident, turning ordinary sheets of paper into delicate silhouettes and layered scenes.
I often pause longer than I expect, watching scissors move slowly, corners sharpen, negative space appear, and entire images emerge from what used to be a blank page.
There is something deeply calming about watching paper being shaped with patience, especially when the process is shown quietly rather than dramatically.
At the same time, I can’t help noticing a small distance between admiration and participation, because their work feels so refined, so practiced, that it almost feels like a world I am only allowed to observe rather than enter.
Remembering That Paper Was Always There for Me
That feeling followed me for a few days, until I suddenly remembered something very simple, which is that paper has always been part of my creative life, long before I ever cared about technique or presentation.
Paper was the first material I felt free with, because it never felt precious or intimidating, and if something went wrong, the solution was always close by, another sheet, another idea, another attempt.
That memory sent me digging through drawers, folders, and boxes where unfinished projects tend to hide, and what I found surprised me, because I already had paper art that meant something to me, even if it did not look like what was trending on my screen.
A Garland of Little Ghosts Made From Old Pages
The first piece I want to share is a simple garland of paper ghosts, which still makes me smile every time I see it hanging quietly in my space.
I cut these ghosts from old paper pages, pages that had already lived a full life as notes, drafts, and half-finished thoughts, which made them feel perfect for something playful and lighthearted rather than serious.
Each ghost is slightly different, some taller, some rounder, some with uneven edges or arms that curve unexpectedly, and I never tried to correct those differences, because that is where their charm lives.
Once they were cut, I laid them out on the table, moving them around until the spacing felt natural, then strung them together with thin thread, leaving small gaps so they looked like they were floating rather than lined up too neatly.
This garland was never meant to impress anyone. It was made on a quiet afternoon, with no deadline and no audience in mind, and that ease is exactly what gives it its character.
Patchwork Paper Cards That Came Together Slowly
The second paper project I want to share is a set of handmade cards that I like to call patchwork cards, because they are built from many small pieces rather than a single sheet.
Instead of starting with a clear design, I worked with scraps, bits of patterned paper, torn edges from old envelopes, and leftover pages that were too small to use on their own, layering them until something began to feel balanced.
This process takes longer than it looks, because it relies on intuition rather than rules. I place a piece down, remove it, rotate it, trim a corner, add another layer, and repeat until the composition feels settled.
Sometimes I walk away and come back later, because seeing it with fresh eyes often changes everything.
Each card ends up different, carrying its own mix of color, texture, and rhythm, and even though they look simple at first glance, they hold a surprising amount of time inside them, which makes them feel more personal than anything printed or mass-produced.
Why Paper Cutting Still Feels Important to Me
What paper cutting reminds me of, more than anything else, is that creativity does not need to become more complex to become more meaningful.
Paper is humble, accessible, and forgiving, and those qualities make it powerful, especially in a world that often celebrates precision and perfection over curiosity and play.
When I finally shared these paper pieces on Instagram, I hesitated for a moment, because they looked simple next to the polished work filling my feed.
But the response reminded me that people are often drawn to honesty more than skill, and to process more than perfection.
