In the old Norse sagas, Odin, the God of War, never walked alone. He had two black ravens: Huginn and Muninn. Thought and Memory. They scoured the world every day, taking in everything they saw and felt, then returned to whisper the truth in his ear.

We took our name from that story. Because for some of us, the memories we carry aren’t legends, they’re the kind that haunt the dark. They replay when the world goes quiet. But memory, when faced head-on, can be sharpened. It can be forged into something that works for you instead of against you. That’s what our name stands for: the moment when what haunts you stops owning you and starts shaping what comes next.

Some of us came home from war carrying more than we left with. Scars you can’t see and moments that won’t let go. That’s the unfinished part of combat; the part that needs closure, a place to pour the pain. So we built that place.

Two Black Ravens Foundation was born from that need. Veterans. Artists. Storytellers came together. People who know the weight of what you’ve seen, and that there’s no shortcut to putting it down. Sometimes, the only way forward is to face it, piece by piece, until it loses its grip.

We use art, photography, storytelling... not as therapy, not as a promise of easy answers; but as a way to give voice when words fail. A way to reconnect with family, with friends, with community, and with yourself.

Through the lens of a camera, the stroke of a brush, the rhythm of a written line, we show that creation is survival. That expression is strength, not weakness. Every project we lead builds a bridge between the world that shaped us and the one we’re still trying to live in. And sometimes we invite civilians across that bridge, because healing isn’t one-way. The lens becomes a meeting point. The story becomes common ground. Understanding becomes shared work. And those things create a better community of understanding.

We don’t chase pity. We don’t sell tragedy. We don’t reward staying stuck. What we offer is a way to start again; with purpose, discipline, and quiet courage, the kind that keeps you standing when nothing else will.

In the end, we’re doing what those ravens did: carrying what’s been seen, honoring what’s been felt, and returning home with the truth. So the next generation can see the real toll of combat, and why the story matters.