We’re about to explore Nikury art. The spooky-cute world of pastel creatures and surreal charm.
For years, Nikury filled her sketchbooks with wide-eyed creatures and pastel chaos. Cute cats. Spooky snacks. Ghosts that would definitely follow you home.
But when her work started getting stolen and sold by people who didn’t even bother to change the color palette, she almost gave up.
Almost.
From Equations to Illustrations
Born in Finland and now based in the Netherlands, Nikury didn’t always believe she could be an artist. “I always thought I didn’t have the skills,” she says. Her math brain was often praised more than her drawings, so she figured a practical path like engineering or coding was more realistic.
At her game design school, everyone spent the first year trying everything: coding, design, art. After testing both coding and game art, she realized where her heart really was. Coding felt empty, but art never stopped pulling her back. She had always loved it, even if she doubted she was “born with the skills.” That year taught her something else: practice matters as much as talent. So she put together a portfolio, sat for an interview with an art teacher, and was accepted to study game art. That chance was the real beginning.
From there her style grew steadily. Soft, colorful, and instantly recognizable. Bright characters and pastel worlds started taking shape in ways that felt entirely her own.
Her characters may look soft – tea‑drinking cats, pumpkin familiars – but behind them is an artist who’s had to fight harder than she ever expected. That fight began when she realized pastel worlds aren’t safe from copycats.
When pastel worlds get ripped off
Fast forward: her cats and magical snacks had built a following. Then came the rip‑offs.
“I was so incredibly sad and felt hopeless,” she says. “The art that I poured so much of my soul and time into being stolen hurt so bad that it almost made me quit pursuing art as a career altogether.”
Evenings disappeared into Google rabbit holes, searching for help. Then another artist pointed her to Edwin James IP.
She didn’t quit. She got justice.
For a while, quitting felt like the only option. Watching counterfeiters profit off the very designs she’d poured her heart into was crushing. But instead of walking away, she dug her heels in.
That decision changed everything. With support from EJIP, the cases that once kept her up at night started turning into wins. Instead of searching forums in despair, she began receiving updates that made her feel seen, supported, and most importantly – defended.
“It’s been very easy working with the team,” she says. “They do most of the work for me and keep me updated on how our cases are doing. The team is also full of such lovely people.”
What had once felt like the end of her career became the beginning of something steadier, tougher. The pastel worlds stayed pastel but now there’s iron underneath. She knows the value of her art, and she knows there are ways to fight back when someone tries to take it.
Her advice to other artists is simple, and it comes with the conviction of someone who’s been there:
With justice on her side, she finally had space to create again.
Still sketching. Still evolving.
These days, she hops between sketchbook, iPad, gouache, fineliners, colored pencils, and a steady stream of Japanese ambient videos. On her desk sits a Snufkin candle with a line she loves:
“You must go on a long journey before you can really find out how wonderful home is.”
That theme of rediscovering what matters runs through her work. Soft on the surface, with quiet resilience underneath. Darker, witchier themes are creeping in too, without losing the comfort her art is known for.
Outside the studio she’s plotting her first Hobonichi planner, keeping cozy with Japanese reality shows, and hoping to return to Finland someday. Sometimes you only understand the magic of home once you’ve left it.
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