As the title suggests, this news article’s goal is to spread the dA love into everyone’s heart! You will find here a little bit of everything, from awesome interviews with talented artists, art features, group promotion to random deviants' features. I hope you will find this informative and entertaining!
Tell us what defines you as a person.
I really am quite shy and quiet when there are many people around and feel most comfortable in the company of one or two friends, which for some reason are very hard to find in my case. Also I like to paint. How did you find out about deviantART and why did you join the community?
I have been looking for online communities that enable people to share their creative outcomes and deviantART was the first place I came across. Being quite clumsy when it comes to computers and anything digital I was glad to have found anything at all so I decided to join. That was many years back now (I had another account before this one) but I'm glad I stayed. When and how did you discover your passion for art?
I have to blame my wonderful mum for that. She used to engage me and my siblings in as many creative activities as possible from an early age on so it was something I naturally grew into and never really questioned. What inspires you the most and when do you think your creativity is at its maximum?
There are so many things that inspire me but if I had to pick one I'd say it's nature. I love taking endless walks through the forest or alongside the beach – you always discover something new and I get many ideas for projects from the most overlooked things.
At its maximum my creativity is probably right at the beginning of any new project and goes downhill from then on... which is why I unfortunately only finish such a small number of projects that I start. What do you think you'd be doing if you hadn't chosen this path?
It's hard to imagine but I'd probably be a mathematician. I always liked maths.
Or I'd have a 'lost&found' kind of shop. That'd be fun. What do you think it's your most meaningful deviation and what makes it special? Does it have a story behind it?Guiding the book
is a very special work I created for a very special project – a book that is traveling all over the world, uniting so many artists in such a wonderful, personal way. Everyone who finds one of those books in their mailbox one day will understand just what's so beautiful about it. Do you have any insecurities regarding your art?
Yes, many. But they are important to keep me going until some day I might be able to do my vision justice with the things I put down on paper. I'm quite certain that day will never come which makes it my aim in life – my purpose. Did art ever helped you to deal with your life problems?
It definitely boosted my confidence a lot. At a point when I pretty much hated everything about myself (as most teenagers do) I always knew I had this one thing I was quite good at. Living it out helped me more than once to forget all about the not so wonderful rest. What is the one thing you always wanted to do but never got a chance to?
To go swimming with dolphins. A few words for our fellow artists?
Don't let anyone discourage you in pursuing your aims! Keep on drawing (or whatever your creative passion is), and dreaming, and flying.
ruminationsyou left and my soul fell asleep.
no, that's not right, it was my body
rose-knuckled cherry-suckled and tiny bumps
your mouth on my neck, hot air
and spit; all of that
doesn't happen to me anymore.
i mean i get laid.
but lately when i run my
fingers over my skin it feels like
somebody else's face. a foreign cadaver,
knocked out with anesthetics. they tell you
not to look in the mirror when you're
high, jesus, but i think mirrors are
to be avoided altogether. halfway
to dreaming then woken
and cycled, my head
hates me for it,
i hate me for
it, i am tied
to both sides
and i am tired.
who the fuck
is "i", and will someone tell her
to shut the fuck
one and a half times,
forward to voicemail.
"oh." mouth opened, slightly,
"sorry i called, i"
annexing the soft phonations that maybe
wanted to stay secret a little
"will you still love me
if i wake up tomorrow?"
and if it was ever there in the first
close the door, please.
there is nothing here left
The water is all moving in the same direction.
To the left.
I like the left side of the boardwalk.
Sideways, not longways.
The sand's not moving. But I am.
my life is like a spinning platform,
the one you stand on
while you're trying to get into your log flume boat.
That doesn't make sense.
There's a peninsula
of charcoal rocks.
I want to be standing on the very edge of them.
I would be powerful
and then jump in for a swim.
There's nothing more mystical than laughing.
Everyone has such a nice laugh.
I see a middle aged couple nearby.
I want to be them one day.
The woman keeps putting her hands in the water.
It is fall.
I hope he loves her.
The water is green.
There are two birds by the water now.
They remind me of the couple.
except the sand.
You know how the world is on
such an angle when you lean your head
to the side?
craning your neck..
I wish I was falling when I di
She WasSometimes all I think about is the day when she'll come back home.
She used to be my April morning, my jazz singer, my bourbon on those cool Appalachian nights. I was her October evening, her dance partner, her tequila on those lazy mountain afternoons.
She was a transient entity, a golden placekeeper in my million-dollar hymnbook. Her stars were always aligned, it seemed, and whatever fruit was her favorite seemed to always be ripe and ready for her to pick. I sensed that she had a bag packed somewhere, hidden away, in case she was called west on some important, undisclosed mission. Her mind wandered, her soul searched, but her heart never fell far from our cabin.
The day she went away started the same as any other. I woke up early, made breakfast, served her in bed. She gave me a small smile and made space on the bed for me to join her. Through her reading glasses, glinting like treasures in th
SenescenceI. The trees are growing old again for the first time, giving up their summer. Their dying hearts fall in a continuous veil of golden autumn, quitting their arboreal ribcages, leaving their skeletons to cry stark against the sky.
The others follow suit. Green to gold to dead - I mean sleeping, of course we're just sleeping - and age coats dark branches in glimmering webs of frost and insidious dreams.
II. You are still beautiful.
You are still beauty, the full
moon, the luminous veil of my
sky is black
I can't put it to wordsit started before
here we are
and hearts break;
into the black holes
becomes that which
to do with being spoken
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