create more

felt that i lost pretty much from my creative side on the last months. need to get it back.

I haven’t built enough things, developed enough ideas into reality as i feel i should. So i might start by making a few things I’ve been wanting to make, roughly 10ish good things will be worthwhile enough for me for now

i work in a technical design role yet i am ‘trained ’ so to speak in fine art. I obtained my degree over 8 years ago ( although i do believe artists are from the heart and all that degrees do is help chanel that talent)
Like a lot of people after uni I got a bit sidetracked and went to where the money was so i could pay my bills etc and am now working in a commercial design role. After work i’m ready to drop and need that extra motivation to create my own work and move to the next level now i’m in a better position in my life.

I’m an artist. But unlike most artists my day job is highly technical. Sometimes I can get drained thinking about induction, bernoulli’s principle and proper forms documentation. I need to remember who I am, and understand the simple fact that how I make my living doesn’t define me.

In order to do that I must resist the urge to fall asleep after work and create.

well, i’m doing the 43Things thing, and I’m blogging more and starting to do some self-discovery writing. it’s a start.

I ventured out into a field yesterday evening with a joint, paper and markers. Sat in the dirt, shielded my face from the black flies with my hair like a mosquito net and began drawing. It was as if my hands were guided. I had no idea what I was going to draw, no expectations what so ever just letting hands go violently crazy over the lined paper. What I got after an hour or so maybe was an evil clown. I’m quite pleased with it. I’d never be able to so loosely combine all those colors into one normally.
I mean it’s not a masterpiece but it’s special to me.

I may try writing, but I think I’m much to jittery to write in that condition. Although I do get some great ideas.

a couple month ago a can of white paint leaked in my closet, and my red bag got some splotches on it. yesterday I finally took the time to sit down and paint it, the way I intended months ago (to cover the messiness). It is developing quite nicely, a mix of realistic locust leaves/flowers, a butterfly and a crazy spiral. I’ll paint the otherside sometime this week!

Have been trying to do something creative at least every other day

Daniel Johnston
Kurt Cobain
and all the other lovely, crazies out there.

I want my room in my new house to be psycho. A clutter all over the walls, and creativeness streaming through the windows, steaming up from under the bed, and radiating at me from the four walls, all around me, like blinding light and the still darkness of night when it needs to be. An energy that stuffs my head and sends my mind into alive, hyperactivity. It should fill my every reality with the dreams that come to me in the night now.

Music and writing, and art, and thinking. My own characters staring back at me from their spots taped on the walls.

A student’s small, make-do, room to an alternate reality.

Can I do this without being crazy? I have no time to go crazy, but sometimes I wish I could for just a month or so. Maybe more. I just don’t know if I’ll have enough time on my hands that’s all.

“Going Away”

The boxes are packed
The suitcases are too
The garbage taken out
Not a lot left to do

This is it for us
Or scheduled good bye
But the ending is empty
No matter how hard we try

We reminise over dinner
With serious chatter
About our new lives
but somehow it doesn’t matter

When was it that we grew up?
That we tied ourselves down
Became “friends” with our parents
So they could move out of town

How is it that we’ve become so detached
That we can leave everyone behind
On our way to something
We can’t seem to find

You told me not to take down the pictures
It makes the room look bare
The fact that we’ll never have this again
Just doesn’t seem fair

The exams are written
The marks have come in
There are no tears as we talk of
What a good year it’s been

Still, know that after I have boarded the car
And have waved good-bye
I can hardly see clearly
Because of the tears in my eyes..