It's late at night. You wander an old house that creaks and cracks with every step, and a breeze blows frigidly through the ancient windows. You see a light on, and walk towards it. Someone is hunched reclusively over a candelabra, staring so intently at it while they work on perfecting every minor detail that they don't even notice you. You try to say something, but the person does not respond because they aren't there, they are in the world of what they are creating, lost in a dreamscape of imagination, darkness, mystery and wonder.
That person is me. I live in the land of whatever I am making, laser-beaming what I see into that one artifact. Creativity is my vice. It is the thing that has purged my demons for many years, and often times the shadow shows in what I make. I find the beauty in the dark, different, intangible and touchable. I have been a creator my entire life, and have spent most of…
- Joined December 5, 2010