Do you have heroes? I do. Loads of them. Writers or filmmakers or musicians or even maybe you. We all need heroes, people to look up to and admire. They are our examples and the ones we love. The connection we have to our heroes is a strange one, because of the unevenness in the relationship. I've talked before, I think, about my desire for equality in relation to my fellows. I really like to be able to communicate with people, no matter who they are or what they've done. Everyone is interesting and everyone has a story to tell. Maybe I am becoming a journalist because of that. Because I want to know the stories of people.

But when you tell the story of your hero, journalism becomes a difficult job. It would be like criticising the person you are in love with for their figure. For some people it could even be like doubting god because heroes have taken the places of gods in our age more often then not. I don't want to interview god though. I thought Steven Wilson was hard enough. Maybe there is a border between a personal, emotional conversation and a professional interview. I suspect it may be a very grey area though. Because you cannot have communication without emotion. You cannot ask people things and expect sensible answers without being really interested. I have noticed this doing more regular journalism and especially local journalism. Interest also means emotional involvement in a way.

The funny thing is that I still notice how much emotions can create barriers for communication. From being tongue-tied in the presence of your greatest love to not being able to ask critical questions to an artist whose work you admire deeply. Perhaps it's easy to drown in love and admiration. It's a safe place, easy and calm. The funny part is that it is also a lonely place. This little warm dark cave of blind love is only big enough for you and your dreams. It will not get you the true story of your hero. The myths you can make up in your head can never become reality. You need to come out and meet these people, who you thought were far away or too busy to listen to you. They are humans all the same. The best way to talk to them is with words and not squeals, gasps or faintings.

Everything has to start somewhere. Usually it starts with an idea or that strange indescribable thing we call inspiration. Sometimes it seems like you don't have to do anything for that, it just pops up and suddenly you know what you want to do. Whether it's to make a painting, take a photo, write your thesis or build a house. And as hard as it may seem when you're in a creative drought, ideas will always return. That's a matter of patience and is more passive then we may realise.

The hard part is the real start. An idea, how great and awesome it might be, is never a real start. You can't pick up the idea to build a house and then tell everyone "Oh yeah, I'm building a house." There is a big difference between having an idea or the desire to do something and actually doing it. The border between the land of dreams and reality is well guarded and customs are strict. Those who want to bring an idea across must face many trials because for ideas, reality has a harsh climate. An unrealistic idea can be burned to cinders if it's confronted with reality and it may feel like the conceiver of the idea is burned right with it.

For me, this is one of the biggest hindrances for my work and an important reason to spend a lot of time between idea and execution. There are positive points to this, certainly. My ideas tend to stew and grow in my mind, from short vague flashes to complex concepts. The dangers, however, are even greater. The bigger an idea gets, the more it will burn when it's not compatible with reality and the bigger the chance that a certain element of the idea is highly volatile.

Only recently, I have realised how a quick execution of an idea is often a much more rewarding method opposed to letting it stew. My most recent works have mostly been a spur of the moment kind of thing, even though the themes and some techniques were already in my head long before that. In fact, I've come to greatly dislike an idea sitting in my head. Having discovered the burning sensations of large dreams incinerated by reality, I try to prevent failing through executing my idea instead of trying to prevent failing by hiding in the land of dreams.

Because I have discovered that I am a man of ideas. Dreams are in my blood, my genetic code. But those ideas will be worthless if they are not held to the fires of reality. Maybe it will melt them, transform them into something valuable like a plough or a sword. Maybe it will incinerate completely. But the important thing is to try and get the ideas across. Because in the end, the land of dreams is wonderful and immense, but it is also prone to wild, uncontrollable changes. An idea allowed to remain an idea for too long may just become too large and volatile to handle.

In my last journal, already a few months ago, I spoke about taking your work seriously and taking chances to make your dreams come true. It actually provoked more and deeper reactions then I could have hoped. I suppose it's something we all wonder about at times. I also noticed that such musings can be dangerous, in a way. Because the more seriously you take yourself, the more you demand of yourself. If you feel that only a well thought out concept can have artistic significance, it's possible that you stare yourself blind upon making the shot matter. Significance can be an obsession, and a very entangling one. I personally have had this obsession for a long time, ever since I started using analogue cameras for my artwork. Or perhaps from the moment that my photography became artwork. Perhaps these are steps and stages in the development of an artist. As I've said many times before: You have to be aware of what you do if you want to be an artist. You have to take responsibility for your actions. In the beginning, this means you have to think about what you want your shot to be before you do it. If you don't, you'll just end up with more snapshots for in the family album or for a social networking site. It is a delicate balance though. But there will be a moment when you think you're out of inspiration. Everything seems dull or done before. And maybe it is. Our concious imagination is limited by what we put into it, really. That is why so many people who suffer from an artistic block also suffer from ennui, because they lack any input of new things. It may be hard to get up and out when you feel like you cannot do anything significant. Still, that is just what you need to do. Because that's when you can open yourself to the second phase, one of subconscious imagination.
It's a bit like dreaming, really. In dreams, you also create things that you never thought you would create. Horrible things, or beautiful things, or secret things. This is because in your sleep, the upper layer of your mind, the part that shields your thoughts from anything unwanted, falls away. What lies beneath is truly endless creativity. (Or at least that is how I see it. Anyone with more expertise in the area may correct me). Anyway. You can employ this 'dream creativity' by discarding the things that block you, like the need for significance. Not all of it may be art of the highest degree, but it will be yours all the same. And as such, you can give it significance or at least put it in its place, realise what you did and why you did it. Even if you can't, you still had a good time being out of the routine and being creative. Every bit helps.

As you may have noticed, I started a poll some time ago, asking my watchers and audience how seriously they take their own art. For some time now, I have been wondering about this. Partially because I like to take my own creations very seriously, but also because I believe that as an art-community, deviantArt has a lot of potential. We are, after all, the largest collection of artists that ever existed. By far. And over the entire globe.

I have noticed however, that a lot of people I meet on dA do not take their work seriously. Either they make what they do because they enjoy doing it and would like to do something productive with their time, or simply because they want to get a few laughs from friends. Much to my surprise, these two are the least given answers on my poll. Perhaps it's because the people who enjoy my art are generally more interested in being serious about art themselves. It might be a matter of simple target audience.

Which means I'm on the right track. Because that's just the kind of audience I'd like to target and the kind of audience I think deviantArt should target. Still, I might be wrong. Perhaps the poll failed completely and do the answers mean nothing. I'm getting this impression because of some recent experiences with a certain willingness from deviantArt officials as well as private initiatives to improve the communication towards the serious art community on this site.

Last month, I mentioned a contest that is being held in Holland these months. I made a news article about it to inform the community about this event. Still, out of the hundreds of Dutch deviants, very few people seem to have taken note of this article. When I brought it to the attention of the Artist Relations team on dA, they were rather reluctant to promote the article or contest for purely commercial reasons. Eventually it was linked in a popular and well-read journal, but still there were very few replies or s from the community. Some people seemed reluctant because they believed their work was not good enough, which I personally think is the sort of false modesty that can hinder your work and career significantly.

Still, it might tell us something about how an average deviant looks at their work: without a clear perspective on the possibilities and reluctant to try these possibilities out. The funny thing is: I am finally aware that I am doing exactly the same. Perhaps in a different way, but I have to admit that I am not all that active towards publication or otherwise some sort of recognition outside the internet community. I am participating in the contest and occasionally make steps for exhibitions or something like that, but I'm sure there is much more that could be done, if only I went out of my way to do it.

A big part of this is fear of failure. Or rather: the fear of my work not being that which I'd like it to be. Disappointment. The reason for me to take the steps that I manage is that I really want it. I feel that I must overcome my fear and in a way can also see that I will loose nothing or very little by trying. Last year I participated in Het Vierkante Ei and it was a great experience. Very motivating and helpful, even though I didn't get further then the first round (which was still quite an honour). I had my doubts about participating again, but eventually I thought 'what the hell' and just send something in. Hopefully it'll get me at least as far as last time and if not, well, whatever. There will be more chances.

Still, and this is something I'd like to give to you all, every chance is one. Seize them when they come your way and if you have the time and courage, search for them. Het Vierkante Ei is a great contest and give you the opportunity to see your work hanging in a real gallery or museum, being judged by professional art-critics who are also very willing to give you their opinion personally as well as win a prize. The great part is there is no real punishment for loosing. Except for the one you might give yourself. The only punishment there can be is the one of a missed chance if you don't participate. See it as a free lottery if you have absolutely no faith in your abilities.

Just go to the site and send something in. Give some to the newsarticle so more people will know about it and you might meet some fellow deviants too. I would certainly like that. At the very least it can give you the feeling that you got off your behind and did something. Carpe diem and all that. No matter how hard it is.