Welcome to the 6th volume of Spreading the DA Love
As the title suggests, this news article series aim to promote wonderful aspects of the deviantART community, from showcasing beautiful works of art, to informing you of great groups, and to interviewing inspirational deviants. I feel so happy being part of such a wonderful community and I hope to make it better, even if it's only a little bit, by making these articles. My goal is to bring to light everything that impassions me and, hopefully, inspire you!
Showcasing Gorgeous Artwork
Here I will showcase art that has simply left me speechless from all genres, from digital/traditional, artisan, emoticons, fractals, etc.
Showcasing Wonderful Photography
Here I will showcase photographs that have left me in awe from all genres, from nature, macro, fashion, conceptual, abstract, etc.
Showcasing Lovely Literature
Here I will showcase literature that has motivated & moved me from all genres, from prose, poetry, flash fiction, short stores, etc.
flickerlet's find solace in the candlelight dripping through the cracks in the glass. let's find comfort in the twisting limbs of the hearth. there are no burns this time, just warmth. just warmth hugging itself around us and wrapping us in its arms. nothing more, nothing less.
a spark is all we need to start a forest fire; but we'll need an ocean to douse it. yet sometimes a spark is all we need to see in the looming darkness; sometimes a spark is all we need to hear in the raging silence. fire is fear. fear is fire. but let's not run from the flames.
fire doesn't bite every time.
there's a sort of hidden ferocity in the way a flame lowers itself to the wind, yet will then jump back, renewed and restored, in a greater fury. fire hides a rebellious spirit, but remember, even rebels know when to yield. remember, the chains of gravity still bind fire to the ground.
let's not fear the heat or the brightness. let's climb closer to it, brush it with our fingers and just watch it dance in its own w
Luciana's LamentI feel only you,
I see only you,
I hear only you.
As the darkness creeps around me,
It threatens to suffocate.
Never enough to just take my innocence,
You turned me into something
I never wanted to know.
For all the things you've done, for your own greed,
Never once thought about your own child
Fragile as a porcelain doll,
now broken once more.
I dream about a world,
where I am free again.
It was never my fault.
I can still taste the blood
Of the many innocent souls,
It shouldn't have ever been like this.
Will I ever be pure once more?
I cry from the pain you put me through.
I cry as I carry the weight of the world on my shoulders.
It never should have been this way,
And it was all because of you.
I.My bones were glass blown:
Crafted to curve lowly -
(un)beautifully - furling like
Imagine me transmuted, bursting through
desquamated skin. Picture my
clay-molded contours liquified
and awakened, shifted:
But I am unseasoned - grape-shelled,
guileless. Esotericism is overflowing
in my veins:
This path is as smudged as
its traveler (skidding yet
never slowed), clotted
Watch my fingers splay, breaking
from my tendons to
grasp tangible air
You can neither scorch nor
whittle me into
nail-sized hopelessness, only
Steeled, my jaw is set -
diffident, not shattered.
If...If you want to feel the wind, learn how to run.
If you want to feel the sun, learn how to stand still.
If you want to laugh, learn how to cry.
If you want to cry, learn how to be a shoulder to cry on.
If you want to protect someone, learn how to face your own fears.
If you want to have strength, learn how to let yourself be weak.
If you want to be intelligent, learn how to admit your ignorance.
If you want to be trusted, learn how to trust others.
If you want to walk, learn how to crawl.
If you want to stand, learn how to kneel.
If you want to see, learn how to listen.
If you want to hear, learn how to feel.
If you want to love someone, be someone worth loving.
And above all, learn how to love.
The Knife's SpeechIn the early eighteen hundreds, a sixteen year old girl decides to leave her hard home life and go out to seek her fortune. She takes with her a blanket, some food and her father's old knife. On the road to London, the knife speaks to her.
I left the forge in years long gone by,
with blades of great renown and greater strength,
but none of them has done so much as I,
though they may be recalled whilst I am not.
It was with them that men waged cruel war,
displaying awesome power before the world.
I'm agent of small deeds which no one saw,
but which will have effect until Earth's end.
There's little in those youths who name me beautiful,
run fingers down my spine to test me,
feel my balance, call me graceful
and having paid that tribute soon abandon me.
To them I'm but a toy that men outgrow
and leave behind with boyhood.
My subtler power's a power they'll never know
in heat of war and sound of soldiers' feet.
Yet gentle women know my power well;
and quiet girls unleash my strengt
A Firm Grasp He told me,
Through words that hands
Had carved into monolithic stones and
A voice that could carry over mountains,
Though instead reverberated against
Hallow walls of being,
"The world will end
Neither with a bang,
The felling of trees and men
In the creation of eternal dusk,
Nor to the dissonant screams
duke of earl.he was a spring baby and the duke and duchess
placed a blue flower in his crib. he grew up in
the beautiful gardens of the dukedom, under
the protective covers of the willows and oaks
and cherry trees. the leaves rustled gently as he
climbed their trunks and picked their fruits.
it was deep into august when charlie took a
liking for annabelle with her long, fair hair -
soft but kind of dry, her high cheekbones, her
thin and very much protruding collar bones.
she was a beauty to him and he plucked a
precious red rose from the flowerbed for her.
he chopped off all the thorns so the rose
would not scar her delicate hands. he threw
the thorns onto the paved ground. it rained
that night and washed away all the fibres
of rose thorn to clear the path for morning.
years later charlie married annabelle and they
produced one radiant december daughter.
she decided the dukedom was not enough for
her. so her father cleared the land and built her
a metropolis. but early in april after the
HubrisThe world is not a skeleton. It does not ache bone-deep with our atrocities, nor is it fragile and ready for the breaking. It knows nothing so human, except perhaps to forgive our pride. Let me explain:
Young, I am a bright star with small, pudgy hands for guiltless flower-crushing. Before even that, I am a wispy squall for food, unused to knowing anything but myself, and warmth, and hunger.
The concept of a hero is a natural progression from understanding speech. I am Me. I am the one all the stories talk about, born special, to whom both innocence and wisdom are possible. I am so great a part of my own self that I do not know it can be detached.
I am eleven, narrow-boned and alone in the red earth, when I first feel it.
A seagull slews out of the bright sky and pegs its beak to the stones, draws it up wriggling. I watch its gullet bob. My hand floats up to mirror the lines of its head against the air. There is a cry, and its eye is a pond of yellow fire staring at me, the air a storm
Second-Long ThoughtI watched scarlet honey-drop fronds unfurl slowly,
its particles of time visible through lace sheaths.
I wanted to love you immensely; to trap you in my
sticky-sweet fingertips and suck the life right out
of you, sip-by-sip.
(There wasn't much there.)
Instead, you sped up my pulse, with your
amphetamine rush of concocted chemicals;
stopped me mid-stride and stole my heart.
(But grew thoughts like wildflower.)
Lacking all physicality of passion-painted particulars,
and chewing apart my newly manifested mind;
-listening to the discord of a minor strum-
(It's what I'm left with.)
Now, I'm tone deaf and praying to faulty gods for
swift, unruly departure from this unnatural,
superficial world, wrought full with censorship
and no purpose of bei
A Weekend in SeptemberI hear the bones and muscles in your shoulder
creaking beneath my head,
like the joints in a wooden ship
floating somewhere on an ocean no one's written about yet
as you cradle me against your steady pulse.
I remember you said it's the small things in life,
like new windshield wipers in the face of a storm,
or doing my laundry
or sitting on our roof in the coming chill
just to appreciate each others warmth
and smoke a cigarette with tousled hair and contented eyes.
I am filled with the remembered feeling of pumpkin spice and fallen leaves,
teetering on the thin line between a bittersweet fall nostalgia
and a deep, halcyon autumn happiness,
but this year, there is no question
who will carve jack-o-lanterns with me
or hate my icy feet when the weather gets colder.
I just wanted to tell you:
I have never been more content
than when you kissed my naked stomach
and I imagined our curly-headed child hiding there, waiting for you.
I have never been more beautiful
than when you held me in fron
BonecrushI opened my eyes to blue sky. Lush grass weaved through my hair and parted fingers, thick crushes of it pressing up against the nape of my neck and tickling a patch of lower back where my jacket and shirt had ridden up. Softly, so faint it was thunderous, I heard a reeling heartbeat. I looked left. Inches from my nose, curled on its back, lay a chipmunk. It was frozen. The tail and the back of one hind leg were mangled. Tension lines ran through the tiny, quivering ribcage. One eye, wide and unblinking, stared back at me. The eye was not bright. The black reflected the sky: empty and pale.
I looked away. On my other side, the Devil was luxuriating in the summer light. A spaded tail flicked lazily in, then out of sight. He noticed my stare and rolled, propping himself up on one elbow. "Do you know when you are?" he asked.
A shadow loom
Mother I Can Feel the Soil I'd never seen a face so pale. There was no blood beneath that white, white skin, standing in sharp contrast to the black satin it rested upon. But besides the lack of color, the girl looked as if she was only sleeping. If I stared long enough, I even believed I could see the slight rise and fall of her chest.
I stood over her, mesmerized by the delicate and disturbing beauty of such a young thing lying in such state. The chilly room was filled with gentle sobs and sniffles, but I didn't feel that same sorrow. I just looked at the girl, not even twenty, lying in the coffin with her lush red hair brushed over her shoulders, her long, thin fingers locked together over her stomach. I ran my hand down the length of her body, just barely hovering above the surface of her skin, and shuddered. The slight static and
Black Rainbow.Cigarette Lips.
The grey of your T-shirt.
A splash of wet green grass.
Orange co-ordinated love.
It's funny how you've played
so well with the yellow sands
of the Hourglass.
How you've got me painting
you with colours of
If they ever ask.
If they ask again-we'll
throw a volley of heartbeat blue
at questions our
love doesn't like.
We've just begun some
black love and poetry.
You cannot go away yet.
Leave that stain of nicotine
on my fingertips
before you disappear
into the dawn.
All these days.
I have been painting.
Today I write.
Showcasing Fun Groups
Here I will inform you of cool groups I have come across or have been recommended to that I feel need some more exposure.
The dA Related Zine is a webzine founded by bradleysays which aims at featuring and promoting news and artwork found within the dA Related gallery.
The group is still fairly new, but if youre interested in anything deviantART related, go check it out & stay tuned for future updates! And if youd like to help make the group super, send your donations to dArZine-Points.
Here I will showcase a selection of DDs I have suggested this month and any that have been accepted.
Here I will interview an inspirational deviant I have picked or one suggested to me.
My name is Martin/Marty! I don't actually have much of a nickname. At all. Unless you consider Marty one.
The story behind your username?
Basically I attempted to make a deviantART account, but had ZERO inspirations for a good username. So, I just went with what was in front of me - a Pikmin plush and a Sailor Moon manga book. I know it wasn't the best idea, but I had just been to the dentist, and apparently was under the influence of laughing gas. I starting disliking my username not long after, but recently I've come to appreciate it.
Tell us about yourself:
I was born in the city, but spent most of my life in Hill Country Texas. I take an interest in trains/railroad stuffs, as well as early computer systems, especially those from the late-1970s-early-1990s. Personalitywise, I really don't know much about myself aside from I'm a bit of a nerd.
How did you discover deviantART?
Probably from searching for images of random anime girls on Google Images. (Just random ones, I didn't know any actual names. "brown hair anime girl" would be a good example.) I honestly don't remember details, this was about 3-4 years ago. My memory doesn't contain that much RAM.
I'm a multimedia artist, I specialize in pixel art. I've been trying to become better at digital art and photography, but I'm still not that great. Outside of the art world, I specialize in video games, especially ones such as Super Paper Mario, Pikmin, or Super Mario Sunshine.
Your Personal Favorite(s) From Your Gallery:
Favorite Inspirational Deviant:
I actually have a couple favourites. im-not-sana and hiddendelights. They're both so kindhearted, and make me want to strive to become a better person, inside and out.
What are your favorite aspects of deviantART?
Probably groups or chats. I mean, you have the ability to connect with so many people, you can make friends with people all around the world, share ideas, and build your own community of artists with similar interests!
Where do you draw your inspiration from?
Mainly from music, or various cartoons I used to watch as a child. In most of my deviations, you'll notice I put a Youtube video in the description, usually the video contains the song that inspired the whole drawing. Typically, any song that's stuck in my head at the moment of the drawing. is my inspiration, in some way. For instance, my drawing of Yuki Kaai was inspired by www.youtube.com/watch?v=0ghyZ6…...
How do you strive to further improve your work?
I look at a LOT of art to gain various ideas. Of course, I never outright COPY anything, but I usually try to imitate various styles over and over to get a good feel for certain aspects of drawing. Same with emotes.
In photography, however, I try to improve by thinking up interesting concepts or finding cool things to take pictures of.
Do you have any advice to fellow aspiring artists?
Stay strong, stay positive, listen to (and try to follow) all advice, even the negative stuff. You never know what your future is going to hold!
Thank you for taking the time to read this article!
Please make sure to the article to help spread the DA love
If you have any art/groups you would like me to showcase or a deviant you would like to be interviewed, please note me. Or comment here in this journal specifically for suggesting deviants to be interviewed. Thank you!