This year’s last post is going to be short. I’m just gonna say that it was a crazy year; a lot of stuff happened. I’m closer to becoming a professional writer. I self-published two novels, a couple of short stories, and a collection of essays. I wrote 200 blog posts.
And I founded an online magazine.
So, yeah, it was a good year. I’m not the one to complain.
Thank you all for your support! Let’s hope we all have a better, crazier (in a good way) 2013.
Yeah, it’s me in the photo. And I’m wearing an irevuo t-shirt.
So, basically I’m working like crazy on the site, trying to get it all ready before Saturday night. And I’ve still to send out e-mails to people, and last night I almost got some proper sleep. Oh, and this computer’s making funny noises… and I just changed practically everything in it a few months ago. How much I love technology, especially when it sounds like a desperate cricket. Or something.Continue reading “Work, work, work”
So, basically Christmas is around the corner. We can feel it in our bones. It hasn’t snowed yet here, but it sure is cold. Like 2-3 degrees Celsius at night (35 degrees F). So it’s cold, and it’s windy, and we all know it’s December. So Christmas must be near.
I’m quite excited about Christmas for the following reasons:Continue reading “For The Love of Christmas”
There are a lot of people out there who think that you have to suffer in order to create real art. For a long time I thought so myself. I think there’s something about the definition of the artist… a misunderstood individual with a reckless behavior, prone to addictions and depression, all that stuff. And there are numerous examples of writers, painters, singers, whose lives were terrible.Continue reading “Struggling Artists and Pain”
There’s a part of me that believes art to be a primordial aspect of the human condition. Art inspires, art is a way of achieving greatness, of building a better world. Art turns strangers into friends. Without art, without artists, we wouldn’t be ourselves anymore.
Because I feel that within the confines of any artistic form of expression, we allow ourselves to wear a mask. The artist hides behind words or paints or brushes. And he feels safe. He can be anyone he wants to be. His freedom is limitless. And he plays this bizarre game of hide and seek with the rest of the world, constantly changing the rules, until he decides – maybe on a mere subconscious level – to be himself, thinking that people will never find out.Continue reading “I am An Artist Because…”