My deviantART Story

          I can't exactly remember my first moments of deviantART; my first encounters with its mellow, olive-green layout. I just remember that I was rather young at the time, and just as messed up (or maybe less so) than I am now. Trying to bring the memories back into existence, I know that a few friends talked me into it towards the end of middle school. From there, it became my sanctuary.

          Throughout my entire childhood, I had a massive fascination with lots of little things: magnets, lights, creation. My mother and sister always helped those fascinations grow, especially in the case of creation. I had my first camera by the time I was 8. Albeit, it was a "novelty," cartoon-themed digital camera that was no better than the ancient webcam we had on our computer at the time. (Ah... old technology...) By the age of 14, I was snapping pictures with my first "real" digital camera: a cheapo, screen-display-only Vivicam. It blessed me with quite a few memories, including some of my favorites within my gallery.


          Over time, I discovered more about photography, thanks in no small part to some of the wonderful photographers on this site. I eventually began using a better camera, and while my interest in photography was waning, I simply couldn't help myself when it came to capturing what I saw.




          When photography simply couldn't convey what was on my mind, I turned to poetry. My early attempts were disastrous. Most have been hidden away, never to be seen by anything other than dust. In fact, there are few of my written works that I feel proud of, and a vast majority are simply bad memories that I never stop wishing away.




          I never truly wrote because I wanted to, or because I liked to. I only ever did it because I had to. I was compelled to let the toxic thoughts escape me in the only form I safely knew how to do. It was always so simple, so natural to put the pencil on the page, or open up Word, but only when I was miserable. My love, my joy, my determination, could only ever be showcased by creating. 

          Throughout the years, I tried time and time again to get into drawing. The ability to summon an insurmountable quantity of details from the tip of a pencil and force them to arrange themselves flawlessly is the envy of many an artist. But it's not always so easy. Learning to draw well takes years of dedication and hard work.



          I, personally, had advanced, but not at the speed I had imagined; not anywhere near as fast as those I followed on here. Much like photography, it became more of a chore than a hobby; constantly trying to improve so that I may accurately convey may imagination. Thanks to the wonderful amenities at my high school, though, I was offered the opportunity to do that which only a limited population in this country get to attempt: glassblowing.

          Unfortunately, the road to glass is paved in shattered hell. (That feels backwards, but we'll go with it.) Before being allowed the chance to blow glass, students had to complete a year of ceramics; half introductory, half wheel-thrown. This time, I found my love.







          There's ShawnCoss, the dark comic I've followed since pieces as early as Love Slave,




Here's a song for seven years
Of filling lands with art;
A place where all can gather,
From countries far apart.

Here's a chant for seven more,
The most recent amassed,
And while we'll party merrily,
The time will quickly pass.

Here we are, at fourteen years,
A joyous, grand event,
We couldn't ask for fourteen years
Of time that's better spent!