Weirdos see the world as a blank slate for them to paint their masterpiece. Forget marching to their own drums. They make up their own instruments. Forget thinking outside the box. They don’t see boxes. They see circles and horizons and trapazoids.
Weirdos don’t see anything as impossible. Anything is possible. Just give us enough time.
Weirdos are contrarians. They think differently and act even more differently. Normals try to fit in. Weirdos stick out without really trying.
Weirdos aren’t driven by money. Money is a destination. Weirdos are all about the journey.
Weirdos don’t care what others think. They only care THAT they think and want to change HOW they think.
(Source: metathis)
‘Analog Tele-Phonographers’: iPod Amplifiers made from old brass instruments.
(via somewhereonlyweknow)
My novel, Isn’t It Pretty To Think So?, was published in June this year. I’ve been candid about my writing process from the day I decided to post my first chapter online until the day, years later, when the completed manuscript was forced out of my hands. But I haven’t shared too many of my…
So much truth here about the creative process. For me, the rigors of the journey that go into making a painting is always it. The finished piece, not always that much. I might be happy with it, but there’s always that emptiness that gnaws at you until you start on something else.
Steal Like an Artist by Austin Kleon. Now available as a 20x200 edition. Hooray!
(via 20x200)
Straightforward advice for getting past creative blocks: get to work!
David Foster Wallace, from a letter to the editor in Harper’s Magazine in 1996.
Earlier that year, Jonathan Franzen wrote his famous essay, “Perchance to Dream: In an Age of Images, a Reason to Write Novels,” where he lays out his attitude toward contemporary fiction, and proposed a template that would later be implemented in his novel The Corrections. The next month, Harper’s published a letter from Kurt Vonnegut in response to Franzen’s article, where he said, “Novelists are people who believe they can dampen their neuroses by writing make-believe. We will keep on doing that no matter what, while offering loftier explanations.”
Wallace sacked Vonnegut on this observation, calling it “horseshit,” saying that if Vonnegut’s statement were the whole truth, “who would want to devote hours of brain work to something somebody had written just to dampen his own neuroses?”
I love this whole exchange, from the spirited argument of purpose and ideals, to the importance and consequence of the audience’s presence. I have a tendency to romanticize the process of making and the opportunity of speaking directly and sincerely to other people, but it’s comforting to see that others can find the magic in the arrangement. We have a tendency to over-use “magic” for unfitting purposes without much mystery, so it’s encouraging to realize that there really are magical things out there accessible to all of us. Auspicious wonder need not live in an ivory tower, so I’ll continue tending to my sentences.
(via viafrank)
(via louobedlam)