Odious is a multidisciplinary artist exploring narrative, transformation, and worldbuilding through digital and experiential art. Since beginning their journey on-chain in 2020, nearly the entirety of Odious’s practice has lived in public view, minted, archived, and evolving across the open network.
Each creative era marks a distinct evolution in tone and form: Sad Love, Bubblegum Forest, and now, The Shade. These periods act like connected worlds within a growing universe, each one leaving behind traces that shape what comes next.
At the core of Odious’s practice lies a restless curiosity, the desire to build a creative village that bridges imagination and experience. Through these interconnected projects, Odious continues to expand an ever evolving world where art is alive, participatory, and transformed by those who encounter it.
. a place whispered of by those who never returned. It is not distance, but departure, the slow unbinding of what was once real.
. a place whispered of by those who never returned. It is not distance, but departure, the slow unbinding of what was once real.
. the first coffin, disguised in gentleness. It teaches you how to sleep so death will not feel strange when it comes again.
. the first coffin, disguised in gentleness. It teaches you how to sleep so death will not feel strange when it comes again.
. life’s final generosity. In surrendering itself, it feeds the endless mouth of becoming.
. life’s final generosity. In surrendering itself, it feeds the endless mouth of becoming.
. the oldest river. It runs through the skulls of the living and the silence of the dead, carrying fragments of both toward the same sea.
. the oldest river. It runs through the skulls of the living and the silence of the dead, carrying fragments of both toward the same sea.
. those who truly mourn do not cry, they listen. And in the listening, they hear the faint reply of what they thought was gone.
. those who truly mourn do not cry, they listen. And in the listening, they hear the faint reply of what they thought was gone.
. the only truth that needs no witness.
. the only truth that needs no witness.
. the proof that death is not final. It breathes through the seams of all endings, turning the once living into the food of futures yet to be born.
. the proof that death is not final. It breathes through the seams of all endings, turning the once living into the food of futures yet to be born.
. a shape given to the formless. Through it, the soul learns weight, learns pain, learns the sweetness of existence.
. a shape given to the formless. Through it, the soul learns weight, learns pain, learns the sweetness of existence.
. it does not hunger, it does not hate. It simply remembers, and in remembering, keeps the dead from vanishing entirely.
. it does not hunger, it does not hate. It simply remembers, and in remembering, keeps the dead from vanishing entirely.
. the thread the world refuses to cut. It binds the fallen to the living, the living to what waits beneath. Through it, the promise of ending is quietly undone.
. the thread the world refuses to cut. It binds the fallen to the living, the living to what waits beneath. Through it, the promise of ending is quietly undone.
Odious is a multidisciplinary artist exploring narrative, transformation, and worldbuilding through digital and experiential art. Since beginning their journey on-chain in 2020, nearly the entirety of Odious’s practice has lived in public view, minted, archived, and evolving across the open network.
Each creative era marks a distinct evolution in tone and form: Sad Love, Bubblegum Forest, and now, The Shade. These periods act like connected worlds within a growing universe, each one leaving behind traces that shape what comes next.
At the core of Odious’s practice lies a restless curiosity, the desire to build a creative village that bridges imagination and experience. Through these interconnected projects, Odious continues to expand an ever evolving world where art is alive, participatory, and transformed by those who encounter it.
. a place whispered of by those who never returned. It is not distance, but departure, the slow unbinding of what was once real.
. a place whispered of by those who never returned. It is not distance, but departure, the slow unbinding of what was once real.
. the first coffin, disguised in gentleness. It teaches you how to sleep so death will not feel strange when it comes again.
. the first coffin, disguised in gentleness. It teaches you how to sleep so death will not feel strange when it comes again.
. life’s final generosity. In surrendering itself, it feeds the endless mouth of becoming.
. life’s final generosity. In surrendering itself, it feeds the endless mouth of becoming.
. the oldest river. It runs through the skulls of the living and the silence of the dead, carrying fragments of both toward the same sea.
. the oldest river. It runs through the skulls of the living and the silence of the dead, carrying fragments of both toward the same sea.
. those who truly mourn do not cry, they listen. And in the listening, they hear the faint reply of what they thought was gone.
. those who truly mourn do not cry, they listen. And in the listening, they hear the faint reply of what they thought was gone.
. the only truth that needs no witness.
. the only truth that needs no witness.
. the proof that death is not final. It breathes through the seams of all endings, turning the once living into the food of futures yet to be born.
. the proof that death is not final. It breathes through the seams of all endings, turning the once living into the food of futures yet to be born.
. a shape given to the formless. Through it, the soul learns weight, learns pain, learns the sweetness of existence.
. a shape given to the formless. Through it, the soul learns weight, learns pain, learns the sweetness of existence.
. it does not hunger, it does not hate. It simply remembers, and in remembering, keeps the dead from vanishing entirely.
. it does not hunger, it does not hate. It simply remembers, and in remembering, keeps the dead from vanishing entirely.
. the thread the world refuses to cut. It binds the fallen to the living, the living to what waits beneath. Through it, the promise of ending is quietly undone.
. the thread the world refuses to cut. It binds the fallen to the living, the living to what waits beneath. Through it, the promise of ending is quietly undone.
Odious is a multidisciplinary artist exploring narrative, transformation, and worldbuilding through digital and experiential art. Since beginning their journey on-chain in 2020, nearly the entirety of Odious’s practice has lived in public view, minted, archived, and evolving across the open network.
Each creative era marks a distinct evolution in tone and form: Sad Love, Bubblegum Forest, and now, The Shade. These periods act like connected worlds within a growing universe, each one leaving behind traces that shape what comes next.
At the core of Odious’s practice lies a restless curiosity, the desire to build a creative village that bridges imagination and experience. Through these interconnected projects, Odious continues to expand an ever evolving world where art is alive, participatory, and transformed by those who encounter it.
. a place whispered of by those who never returned. It is not distance, but departure, the slow unbinding of what was once real.
. a place whispered of by those who never returned. It is not distance, but departure, the slow unbinding of what was once real.
. the first coffin, disguised in gentleness. It teaches you how to sleep so death will not feel strange when it comes again.
. the first coffin, disguised in gentleness. It teaches you how to sleep so death will not feel strange when it comes again.
. life’s final generosity. In surrendering itself, it feeds the endless mouth of becoming.
. life’s final generosity. In surrendering itself, it feeds the endless mouth of becoming.
. the oldest river. It runs through the skulls of the living and the silence of the dead, carrying fragments of both toward the same sea.
. the oldest river. It runs through the skulls of the living and the silence of the dead, carrying fragments of both toward the same sea.
. those who truly mourn do not cry, they listen. And in the listening, they hear the faint reply of what they thought was gone.
. those who truly mourn do not cry, they listen. And in the listening, they hear the faint reply of what they thought was gone.
. the only truth that needs no witness.
. the only truth that needs no witness.
. the proof that death is not final. It breathes through the seams of all endings, turning the once living into the food of futures yet to be born.
. the proof that death is not final. It breathes through the seams of all endings, turning the once living into the food of futures yet to be born.
. a shape given to the formless. Through it, the soul learns weight, learns pain, learns the sweetness of existence.
. a shape given to the formless. Through it, the soul learns weight, learns pain, learns the sweetness of existence.
. it does not hunger, it does not hate. It simply remembers, and in remembering, keeps the dead from vanishing entirely.
. it does not hunger, it does not hate. It simply remembers, and in remembering, keeps the dead from vanishing entirely.
. the thread the world refuses to cut. It binds the fallen to the living, the living to what waits beneath. Through it, the promise of ending is quietly undone.
. the thread the world refuses to cut. It binds the fallen to the living, the living to what waits beneath. Through it, the promise of ending is quietly undone.
. to fall into it is not to vanish, but to shed, to become raw possibility, waiting for form to find you once more.
. to fall into it is not to vanish, but to shed, to become raw possibility, waiting for form to find you once more.
. to fall into it is not to vanish, but to shed, to become raw possibility, waiting for form to find you once more.
. to fall into it is not to vanish, but to shed, to become raw possibility, waiting for form to find you once more.
. to fall into it is not to vanish, but to shed, to become raw possibility, waiting for form to find you once more.
. to fall into it is not to vanish, but to shed, to become raw possibility, waiting for form to find you once more.