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!
Well, this is one of the most difficult question for me and I think for any other person too. As I understand it is about my difference from others, about my peculiarity. At the moment of my way, I see my own peculiarity in my looks at some things, associated with the сreation and life as a whole. I am one of those people who attitude to their souls as to the treasure from which are always ready to find and getting something new, and operate it. I'm always looking...
How did you found out about deviantART and why did you join the community?
Honestly, I don't remember. I think that I found DeviantArt thanks to my friend who also enjoys photography and already had DeviantArt account. I decided to join DeviantArt because I always have a need to share my own creativity with others. And this community seemed like a great way to implement this needs.
When and how did you discover your passion for art?
I liked art from childhood. Parents took me to dance classes for children. Then, when I grew up a little bit, I went to ballet school. For four years I studied there, but I dropped out of school due to some circumstances. After that, I tried a different hobby like sewing, belly dancing, poing, fire shows, etc. I began to develop an interest to photography at university. It happened due to my environment at the time, it was mostly the people who are seriously involved in photography. And of course the fashion of the century of the photography made the great contribution. I visited various sites about photography and with bated breath I watched the works.
What inspires you the most and when do you think your creativity is at its maximum?
I'm inspired by the work of other photographers, which I find is very talented people, such as Lee Frost, Karezoid Michal Karcz, Gosia Jurasz etc. In the beautiful weather, like when a lot of light, or vice versa, when the gray and foggy I can find inspiration too. But most of all, perhaps, I am inspired by own mood, often all depends from him.
What do you think you'd be doing if you hadn't chosen this path?
If this is my way, I would not be able to choose another one. And if it isn't mine, then I would have found another kind of activity, most likely associated with other kind of creativity, because my need for self-expression is sufficiently high. My choice would be fell to the dancing maybe.
What do you think it's your most meaningful deviation and what makes it special? Does it have a story behind it?
I think the photography at this time is not my significant feature. And I still can not judge about my works, I am very critical.
Do you have any insecurities regarding your art?
As I say, I'm very critical of my works and to myself too. I'm always dissatisfied with something in my creativity. I still can't realize the fullness of an idea in the photography, and it the most annoying. I see the inferiority of any of my works. But it makes me move forward and making the progress in this direction.
Did art ever helped you to deal with your life problems?
I don't use my creativity as a means of solving problems, I use it as a means of expressing myself or problematic parts of me.
What is the one thing you always wanted to do but never got a chance to?
I always have a desire to participate in an international photo contests, but still can not, perhaps, because I have lack of information on this.
A few words for our fellow artists?
Honestly, I hesitate to make recommendations to others about photography as a creation. I need a huge amount of tips and tricks in the first place. Don't copy others, look for yourself and never stop! Always learn something new, you never know what you'll find useful tomorrow. And that is all can I say.
Coming Through the LightDarkness
That was everything. It was on all sides, pressing on him, telling him to give in. He wanted to give in, but something nagged at the back of his mind. He needed to stay awake, but why? He couldn't remember. It escaped him everytime he tried. And the darkness continued to beckon to him. It whispered of releif, of escape from the cold. Somehow it was ironic. Cold was a friend, but he couldn't remember why. Cold yelled his name when he was leaving. Cold was yelling for him to come back, to stay, to fight the dark.
A dot of lightformed in front of him. Yes, cold was agood friend, but there were more. More friends in the back, yelling for him to stay. Another dot appears. He didn't see the others much. They were always busy. But with what, with what? The children. Two more dots appear. He couldn't give in because the children need him. He has to fight the dark so the children could live in the light. So they won't be were he is.
The dots broaden till ther are one hole of
Thunder In My Dreams.In my dreams...
I saw you last night,
In my dreams.
You were angry.
I do not know.
The rain yelled..
As your tears fell..
The wind howled..
As your voice growled..
The thunder boomed..
A million more..
We were silent.
Silent all but the rain.
The angry tears.
And the thunder.
The horrid thunder.
You love it.
But I hate it.
It scares me.
As does the anger in your eyes.
There is not one,
But three more bursts,
Of the thunder.
The terrifying thunder.
You scream once more.
Telling me that it's done.
The debt has been paid.
The skies clear from above my head.
Yet, as you walk away,
I see the rain,
I hear the thunder,
And feel a piece of my heart,
Following you as you step away.
Never to be seen again.
The thunder falls in line,
With your steps..
I watch you leave me.
Boom. Boom. Boom.
RuminationShe’s not made of bones
(or sinew, or keratin,
and her back doesn’t elope a spine
to lean on, her weight
heavier than earth-bones.
The gushes of oil spills flowing like rain
is the only rivulet in her tears,
the fuel in her blood.
Conjoined with the nuts and bolts found
in the pits of Father’s attic
jaundice skin's impenetrable,
even to the flickering of the candle’s flame
hair rough as ash and long as veins--
she was a battlefield.
But there’s a heart that beats
somewhere in her chest,
rattling like broken teeth;
trying to shake its enigma loose
trying to thump,
trying to pump,
trying to bump
Like the dust in her lashes,
the forty years of silence in her lungs.
The cold of iron and tin and copper
turning to rust
the unexplainable famine
in her throat.
The yearning to read trembling lips.
The passion to remember.
The urge to touch
The will to listen.
All she ever wanted
in a body of loneliness.
The wind beneath her p
Underexposed-Photos is all about helping you get the exposure you'd like for your photographs on deviantART. Also it has a contest going on!
Please make sure to the article to help spread the dA love