I have always been drawn to the quiet ones, the figures who carry a world behind their ribs without making a sound. Setsuna is the embodiment of that silence. In drawing her, I felt the pull of the underworld—not as a place of death, but as a space of profound, solitary focus. She is the guardian of the gate, yet here, she is simply a woman defined by the curve of her spine and the weight of her purpose.
My pencil followed the long, elegant lines of her limbs, seeking the tension where the skin meets the air. I wanted the graphite to feel like shadows pooling in the hollows of her collarbone. There is a specific friction in the way a lead tip moves across the grain of the paper when you are trying to find the exact point where a gesture becomes a plea. I didn't want her to be a caricature; I wanted her to be flesh and bone, anchored by the gravity of her own power.
There is something inherently erotic about the concept of time—the way it lingers on a surface, the way it eventually strips everything away. By stripping her down to her essence, I found a different kind of intimacy. It isn't just about the reveal of the body, but the reveal of the soul behind the duty. She offers the power of Pluto, yes, but she also offers a moment of pause, a reprieve from the rush of the world.
“I wanted to capture the intersection of celestial duty and the raw, human vulnerability of a woman who holds the key to the end of things.”— Kaethe Butcher, Studio Notes, 2023
Looking at her now, I see a reflection of the endurance we all need. She is a reminder that power is often found in the quietest corners of our own anatomy. She doesn't need to shout to be felt. She simply exists, holding the key, waiting for us to recognize the strength in our own stillness.