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Little thing called TalentLittle thing called Talent
"My name is Marc, my emotional life is sensitive and my purse is empty, but they say I have talent."
In general, talent means the skill that someone has quite naturally to do something that is hard, a high degree of ability that a person was born with. It's hard to argue that some people indeed have more of an inherited talent for arts than others. They are able to get to a certain level rather quickly and get a lot of praise along the way. However, relying on talent will only last for so long, there's a point to be reached when nothing but hard work gets you through.
"Talent is so loaded a word, so full to the brim with meanings, that an artist might be wise
May 2013 - 31 day PAINTING challenge!UPDATE:
This challenge was certainly a great experience for me. I made some mistakes that cost me a lot of time, for example sometimes I spent 5 hours on a piece that turned out wrong and instead of moving on I took a new paper and tried to make new work within the remaining hour or so. During second week, I've decided to keep the scrap works a part of my challenge, even though I won't publish them they still appear as a thumb on my challenge table. It's simply not possible for me to do 7 good pieces sometimes. Also, posting every day took way too much time to keep up, so I've decided I will be publishing remaining artworks through June continuously.
What I learned during this project of mine? It gave me a better idea about how much time I spend on one piece and what amount of time I waste on post-production. I had to make a few arrangement that hopefully make me more effective today. But mostly, I've tried new subjects that I totally LOVE, mostly architecture and flow
Places #10: June Facebook FeaturesDid you know that Sense-Create-lnspire has also a FACEBOOK PAGE ?
One specific part of our FB page is dedicated to Landscapes & Scenery category, artwork album Places. Every other day a new artwork is featured there.
This is a summary of all landscapes featured on our page during June 2013.
Enjoy the view
PE: Presentation mattersPresentation matters
It's not just the artwork that tells you something about it's creator - on the internet, the way you present it is at least equally as important. Your painting can be a masterpiece, hanged in a local gallery, but as long as you post a blurry, badly cropped picture named "1564873" along with "..." in an artist's description, nobody will ever bother visiting your gallery. Creating a nice, representative profile page and setting a certain visual quality standard takes extra time and effort, but if you really care for your work (even if it's just a hobby), you should treat it with some respect.
I've already written a related article called The power of context that tried to explain how to place your work in a context in order to better connect with your audience, this one is focused
last night I was inspired."Last night I was inspired.
It was a sad, cold, lonely night. Thoughts screaming, yelling at me. I literally wrote nonsense on the wall for hours, about beating hearts, fragility and failure. About skeletons that had no legs and hissing fangs that glared at me.
Once again my cruel best friend arrived, embracing me with its gleaming coldness. She was dressed in silver and scarlet; our favorite colors. She danced as I wrote and sang as I cried. And then I was suddenly left in the dark; lonely, hating her -hating them-, and crying.
Yet it was strange that what I only got to feel then, was inner peace."
"Anoche fui inspirada.
Era una triste noche, fría y solitaria. Pensamientos chillando, gritándome. Escribí cosas sin sentido en la pared durante horas, sobre corazones que laten, sobre fragilidad y fracaso. Sobre esqueletos sin piernas y colmillos siseantes que me mataban con la mirada.
Una vez más, mi cruel y mejor amiga llegó,
Shattered Ice, Festering WoundsShe studies her face in the mirror; frigid turquoise eyes stare back, imitating the blank eyes of the dead. A sheet of white fabric floats idly around her black hairline, framing her pale, angular face. Absentmindedly, she brushes the cloth away before pressing her toughened hand against the glass, watching her mirror image do the same.
At least I have you.
Indecision lies in the curling of her youthful fingers, the worry of her lowered brow. Without a word she pulls the spider’s web of fabric over her face- an obscuring, shielding veil- and examines herself in the mirror.
Do I look the part of the jubilant bride?
She eases her lips into a masked, shy smile. She feels naked, though she’s wrapped in swaths of fabric. In the mirror, she resembles a doll dressed up in layers upon layers of heavenly snow. Just a mannequin, perhaps; a mold, practice for reality.
Maybe he won't notice.
Pushing herself into motion, she mechanically makes her way out of her roo
What to put in a Children's Book Portfolio!!
Our guest post today comes from established Children's Book Artist Donald Wu. Don is a San Francisco Bay resident with a huge portfolio of success under his arm that includes more than ten published books to date. If anyone can tell you what it takes to be successful and stay successful it's him! So please join us as Donald helps to walk you through putting together the most important tool you'll need to establish yourself and start getting work, your portfolio!
Every now and again, I get asked the question, "What should I put in my portfolio?". So, I wanted to take a moment and share some tips and suggestions you might consider when putting together an illustration portfolio. Specifically, a po
Be Mine ForeverHold me tight; stroke my hair,
Kiss my lips and twirl me in mid air.
Call me Luv; watch me pray,
Lock me in your arms and caress away.
Sing me songs; brush my tears,
Just let me clutch and my fears shall disappear.
Recite my jokes; and the silly bed-time stories,
Make me accept and bring back the glory.
Be my hope; the one who always inspires,
As you are the one who my heart desires.
Be my strength; show me light,
Watch the stars be aligned tonight.
Show me reality; make me believe.
Else love is the last thing I shall ever perceive.
The Coffee GodThe Coffee God behind the counter shuffles foot to foot, a dance of steam and espresso. Black painted fingernails, inch gauged ears and a gray striped sweatshirt, hood crooked on his back. There's a cigarette tucked behind one ear; it bobs and twitches with each step.
“Non-fat caramel latte,” he calls, just as he always does, part of a spell, part of a mantra, toneless (just a tuck at the end). I reach. He looks up.
The espresso maker hisses.
There's something like a grin, something like a spark, something like a shared secret linked eye to eye. When he passes over the drink (rough cardboard sleeve hot to the touch), he lingers. Our fingers brush, a shiver, a jolt, a ten-watt shock.
The Coffee God tilts his chin, shouts, “Hey, mind if I take my break now?”
and ducks around the counter without waiting for a reply.
He slips his cigarette between his lips without taking his eyes from mine. I follow him out the door.
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