If you’re a fan of the mythological fantasy game Ōkami, you probably remember a part of the story where the sun goddess Amaterasu must shrink down to the size of a needle head in order to infiltrate the Imperial Palace. This is a particularly captivating part of the game, as Ammy is thrust into the dazzling yet terrifying world that her diminutive companion Issun must cope with in his everyday reality. In this world, tiny clovers balloon into enormous trees, sweeping brooms serve as potentially deadly obstacles, and a human stomach transforms into a battleground to fight off a samurai virus (yes, it’s every bit as cool as it sounds). Exploring this eerie, disorienting environment is not only incredibly fun and challenging, but it also does a fantastic job at showing us what the land of Nippon looks like from the perspective of a person the size of a bug.
I bring this up in order to explain why I could never fully immerse myself in the world of The Minish Cap. Since Ōkami takes place in a three-dimensional environment, players can get a sense of scale and depth in order to better understand differences in size; as a result, the transition from the world of humans to the world of bugs feels all the more jarring and strange. Conversely, the flat, two-dimensional plane of The Minish Cap makes it difficult to grasp just how small the Minish are meant to be compared to the Hylians. This leaves me with an odd feeling of emptiness whenever I play the game, as if a vital piece is missing from an otherwise beautiful puzzle.
Luckily, I can always count on the fan art community to fill whatever void I may possess. For today’s piece, let us turn to ZimtHandmade, an artist based in Germany who specializes in artisan crafts. They primarily focus on needle-felted figurines (one such amazing creation warrants a separate discussion in another article), but in their beautifully understated Zelda piece entitled “Does it still rain?”, the central focus is a lone Minish composed entirely of tiny beads and wire. The excellent craftsmanship of the model is impressive all on its own, but the deceptively simple composition of the photograph is what transforms the piece into a truly exquisite work of art.
The Minish figurine is captured in such crisp detail, the sharp contrast between light and shadow making each colorful bead pop against the shiny copper-colored wire. The thumb-sized creature gazes curiously up at the sky, his hand tentatively held out to test whether or not rain is falling. His cautious approach makes sense, as what we perceive to be a gentle raindrop is a potentially harmful projectile to an unsuspecting Minish, and every shallow puddle is like a roiling, stormy sea. Fortunately, he seems to have ventured out during a lull in the tempest. The gritty surface of the pavement is slick with water, with large, soggy fragments of leaves scattered as far as the eye can see. With the light of the full moon reflecting his image in the pool of water at his feet, the Minish can rest easy knowing that it is safe to go out and explore — for now.
Thanks to this lovely, sweetly charming photograph, I feel more closely connected to the Minish than I ever have before. I can actually picture myself walking down this road after an evening storm, the air cool and moist as the damp leaves squish beneath my feet. Then, I see this tiny ball of bright red and green stepping gingerly into the road, using a four-leaf clover as a meager umbrella. I can feel his weight in the palm of my hand as I pick him up, and I can see just how vulnerable he is to natural and man-made forces that humans consider safe. For the first time, their world feels tangible and real, a dizzying wonderland filled with beauty and danger.
So even though Nintendo will probably never bring The Minish Cap to life in a detailed three-dimensional environment, it makes me happy to know that I can always turn to ZimtHandmade’s work to fill in the missing puzzle piece and breathe new life into this beloved Zelda classic.
