My name is Jacob Hades—I’m an artist, designer, and systems thinker creating objects that live where emotion meets form.
My products began with a single question:
How do people actually hold grief?
In our modern world, grief has become abstract, rushed, and buried under productivity. Through months of listening—interviewing grief counselors, hospice workers, and people mourning deeply personal losses—I created Whispered Remains, a narrative card deck rooted in storytelling and ritual. From that came the Afterlife Care Organizer, a practical tool to bring order to chaos.
Both were needed. But something deeper called out:
People didn’t always want tools. They wanted a presence.
Something they could hold. Something still, silent, and beautiful.
Some things are small—but they carry the world.
The ASML EUV scanner, the most advanced machine humanity has ever built, creates microchips with parts so small they can’t be seen with the naked eye—yet those chips power every phone, spacecraft, and AI system on Earth.
Then there’s the paperclip—a single bend of wire.
It has held together history: war letters, classified secrets, love notes, and last wills.
This is the nature of grief, too. It feels massive. But what we carry is often tiny:
A memory. A name. A gesture.
Invisible, yet enormous.
To honor this contrast, I designed something radical in its restraint:
The Twin Memory Paperweights
Two small, heavy objects. Forged in dark metal or stone.
No logos. No explanations. Only presence.
Each is etched with subtle lines, grids, and symbols—minimal and mysterious.
They come in a black box. Side by side.
They are not to be used.
They are to be held.
A sculptural poem.
A ritual object.
A relic of modern grief.
They represent absence, memory, and the unsaid—physical tokens of what cannot be solved, only witnessed.
We are entering a post-noise era.
People want less. They want depth.
They want ritual. Presence. Meaning.
This is the first product in a collection of modern relics—quiet luxury objects that speak to the part of life no one markets to: loss, remembrance, emotion, love. These objects live between:
Design and devotion
Art and healing
Stillness and power
They are sold not as tools, but as experiences. Not as gifts, but as anchors—objects that carry the weight of emotion without needing to explain it.
This is scalable, meaningful, and highly collectible.
We can produce these objects at low material cost, high perceived value, and enter multiple markets:
High-end design shops and concept stores
Art fairs, museums, and collector galleries
Luxury wellness and ritual retail
Legacy gifting and memorial spaces
The model expands into limited editions, collaborations, rare metals, unique materials, and even digital tie-ins (encrypted memory capsules, NFC ritual soundscapes, etc.).
And at its heart, it remains simple:
A product that honors memory.
An object that turns silence into presence.
I’m looking for a partner with the ability to see beyond trends—
Someone who understands the value of ritual at scale.
Someone who sees how the world is shifting—from noise to nuance.
Someone who knows how to build a brand that leaves a mark, not just a margin.
If you believe that the right object—quiet, beautiful, heavy—can carry the weight of memory,
If you believe that legacy isn’t built through speed, but through soul,
Then I’d love to build this with you.
Not to fix grief.
But to honor it.
To give people something they never knew they needed:
A way to hold what they thought they had to let go.
Let’s make something timeless.
Are you in?