#writerswednesday: Inspiration, Muses and Impulses

Auf Deutsch lesen

#writerswednesday: inspiration, muses and impulses

Hey my dears,

one of the frequently asked questions I get asked is:
“What inspires you?”
“Where do you find inspiration in a phase when you’re absolutely not creative?”

Cliché would say: I find inspiration in everything, the world is full of wonders, you just have to open your eyes.

And although there is truth to it, I’m not cliché enough to let it stand like that without any additional information.
Besides that I think it’s time to give credit to those that spark inspiration and help me write.

So, yes, this life, this world offers so much that you can draw inspiration from, starting with a fresh wind in the morning transporting smells to you that set your memory in motion and make you think about an event, a person or a moment of your childhood for instance that you then reflect upon. Your cat jumping elegantly onto the sofa and moving in a dainty way and you observing her to learn. It can be the weather, a flower, the news, something you see, hear, touch, perceive with one or many of your senses.
Yes, the list would get really really long and the human mind is complex enough that probably you yourself won’t be able to trace back each and every spark of inspiration that just lit the lamp in your head, you know.
But sometimes you can determine exactly where the inspiration came from.
And I’d say there are several elements that quite frequently touch upon the creative corners of the mind:
* people
* overheard conversations
* emotions
* surroundings
* social observations

We’ll take it step by step: People

There are people that with their worldview, their attitude, their physical appearance and presence just make you stop whatever you’re doing and draw you into a sphere full of ideas and creativity. You just want to listen, to observe, yes, you want to inhale them, take a bite, devour this energy.
There is this notion that creatives are like vampires that suck out the creative energy from people and their surroundings.
Or these sweaters that state “Careful. You may end up in my novel.” (I always wanted to have one of these tbh, haha)
And it’s not too far off to say that oftentimes we draw inspiration from the encounters we have with other people.
What I don’t like is the idea of vampire in the sense that we take away from another person. We do, kind of, but I personally try to avoid leaving the table empty, so I make sure I bring something myself, that way, an exchange and a fruitful mutually inspiring place is created for both parties.
I’d like to take this moment to express my gratitude towards the people I was allowed to encounter that moved my mind and made me think, feel and explode into creative ecstasy.
I’m grateful and I want you to know that you are special.

Little excursion:
Oftentimes there would be two kinds of people: Those that think that what they bring to the table would never inspire anyone. And those that think they are so inspiring that you should have written a whole book for them already.
Let me tell you something: To those that think they don’t bring enough, when an artist sends you a poem, a text, a picture, they created because of the fire you or the interaction with you ignited, don’t take it as a compliment. Take it as the truth that you are special, inspiring and that you harbour more power within yourself than you probably know.
To those that think they’re giving so many great impulses: When you watch the works of an artist that you encountered, stop trying to read yourself into it and claim it yours, it will only end up in frustration once they tell you that it wasn’t you but someone else who lit that idea. And if you ever inspire an artist, know that this is something special.
I’m sorry to say that, but sometimes this cockiness drives me mad and raises another question: Would you also claim the inspiration for an artwork if it was ugly, rough, hurtful, nasty?
Everybody wants the flowers and the blooming blossoms of beauty, but you know what? Even if you encounter a critical, nasty poem full of pain, that was based on you, it’s an honour, cause you moved their emotions enough to make them write about it.
(I know it sounds weird, but let that just sink in for a moment.)

Back to gratitude: Are there specific people that you can always go to and be sure that you’re gonna go home with new ideas?
Yes and no.
There are people who have the tendency to inspire you again and again. These are the ones I’d call a muse. And I’m more than grateful to have been allowed to meet people like these.
Not many, one specifically, but it’s a precious treasure that I value a lot.
But it wouldn’t make me try to exploit that person for the sheer sake of inspiration.
Either it comes naturally or it doesn’t.
At least that’s my attitude towards it. And it is also connected to valuing and honouring your muse by not squeezing them like a lemon and leaving them empty.

Now, does that mean if some of my close friends don’t inspire me, that I love them less?
Obviously, yes! What are they good for if they don’t lit a lyrical lamp?!
Just kidding, of course the amount of poems I write for, to or about you does say something about our connection, but it doesn’t necessarily say anything about the intensity of love I feel for you or about the love I feel for others.
There are a million reasons and a billion ways to love someone, and yes, it is a special connection you have with your muse, but none of it takes away the love my heart harbours for someone I’ve never written a piece for.
Just like the saying “The beauty of another woman doesn’t take away your own.” or however it goes, it’s the same with inspiration.
So there is no need to compete or to compare yourself and the amount of works someone produced for or about you to the works someone else inspired.
It’s a process set in motion that sometimes the artist themselves can’t describe in every detail. It just is.
Nevertheless, don’t take it for granted, but also, don’t feel bad if there’s is none or just one piece of art you inspired.
This doesn’t mean you have no meaning, and it surely doesn’t mean you’re not loved.

There is this saying that you can learn from anyone, even if it’s only what you don’t want or how you don’t want to be or want to behave.
So, inspiration can be drawn from “positive” encounters, as well as from “negative” encounters.
But often we’d prefer the feel good vibe of the word inspiration than reflecting upon the possibility that even moments and people that don’t makes us feel like cakes and cherry pie can lead to a spark of inspiration. We like this idea of being a positive impulse for our surroundings, and true, it’s nice. But let me tell you something: De Profundis by Oscar Wilde would have never been written, had he not been betrayed and sold by someone he loved and thought of as a partner.
Does this now mean we need to search for struggle and suffering in order to be great artists like Oscar?
Well, we could discuss that and I have many thoughts on this topic, too, but this would rather be dealt with in a separate post or in an additional format.
Would you like to talk about it? Well, my answer is yes.

Now, before this post gets too long, I recommend you join me on my balcony to continue this chat.
I’ll announce when the random rambling and prolific ponder is on.

How about you?
What inspires you? What inspires you in people?
Can you pinpoint it down and put a finger on specific traits, expressions, movements that ignite inspiration in you?

Please let me know in the comment section below.

So long, my dears.


#sundaystory: Fotograf

#sundaystory: Fotograf

Für Norbert Josefsson
Die vorgegebenen Elemente waren:
a) Deutsch
b) Fotograf
c) Sonne, Tod, Theater
d) dramatisch

Es war ein heißer Tag. Die Sonne brannte unerbittlich und jeder von seiner Stirn fallende Schweißtropfen verdunstete sofort auf dem Asphalt.
Er hatte sich dazu hinreißen lassen, die Vorbereitungen für das Fest auf dem Vorplatz des Theaters fotografisch festzuhalten, damit es beworben werden konnte und hoffentlich dementsprechend viel Zulauf erhalten würde. Überredet dazu hatte ihn die nicht mehr ganz so junge, aber junggebliebene Hauptdarstellerin des neuen Stücks, das am Vorabend der Festeröffnung Premiere feierte. Raffaela war nach ihrer Ausbildung in der Gegend über Umwege und viele Serpentinen auf ihrem Lebensweg zu einer doch relativ bekannten Größe im Theater aufgestiegen und kehrte nun an ihren ersten Spielort zurück.
Er, seines Zeichens gelernter Fotograf, hatte Raffaela zu Beginn ihrer Karriere in der Umkleide eines kleinen Hinterhoftheaters kennengelernt, als er zum Zwecke der Erstellung einer Fotomappe für seine Abschlussarbeit die ungeschminkte Wahrheit portraitieren wollte. Damals noch mit einer Tasche voller Filmrollen bewaffnet und Tagen, die in der Dunkelkammer zu nächtlichen Gleichnissen verschwammen, hatte er sich mit der ausdrucks- und willensstarken Künstlerin in der Umkleide nach der Vorführung bei starkem Tee mit süßer Milch angefreundet und sie hatten noch stundenlang bis spät in die Nacht geredet.
Die daraus erwachsene Freundschaft hielt nun schon mehr als 30 Jahre an und hatte geographische Distanzen und verschiedene Lebenswege durchstanden. Auch wenn sie sich manchmal jahrelang nicht sahen, stellten sie immer sicher, sich Briefe und Postkarten zu schreiben. Noch heute, nach all den Jahren, zierten viele bunte Ansichtskarten von allen Spielstätten, die Raffaela mit ihrem Ensemble bespielt hatte, seinen Kühlschrank. Und noch heute, nach all den Jahren, befand sich auf Raffaelas schnörkelverzierter Schminkkommode eine mit Muscheln und Perlen besetzte Holzbox, in der sie all seine Briefe und Karten aufhob. Hin und wieder, während der präzise gezogene Lidstrich auf einem Auge noch trocknen musste, nahm sie willkürlich einen Brief oder eine Karte aus der Box und las mit dem geöffneten Auge die Zeilen, die sich vor ihr wie ein Band der vergangenen Jahre zu einer Perlenkette aufreihten und manches Mal musste sie schmunzeln. Weinen wäre auch undenkbar gewesen, immerhin hätte dies verheerende Auswirkungen auf das Make-up gehabt. Dann küsste sie die Karte oder den Brief mit den Lippen, auf denen sich der frisch aufgetragene und noch nicht getrocknete Lippenstift befand und legte sie zurück in die Box.
Wenn es ihnen möglich war, hatte sie seine Ausstellungen und Veranstaltungen und er sie an ihren Spielstätten besucht.
Nie ohne diese Begegnungen fotografisch festzuhalten, nie ohne starken Tee mit süßer Milch als Abschluss eines außergewöhnlichen, von Lachen erfülltem Abend.
Und nun trafen sie sich wieder. Das letzte Treffen musste mittlerweile fünf Jahre her sein, eine lange Zeit, die sich bei der Verbindung der beiden und durch den Briefkontakt jedoch nie nach einer Ewigkeit anfühlte.
Sie trafen sich vor dem Seiteneingang des Theaters, der hinunter zu den Umkleideräumen der Darsteller führte. Während er über den Vorplatz schlenderte und die sengende Sonne die Luft vor seinen Augen zum Flimmern brachte, konnte er schon ihr altbekanntes breites Lächeln ausmachen. Das einzig wahre Lächeln, das Lächeln, das anders war als jenes, das sie auf der Bühne und in Interviews und bei Fotoshootings zur Schau stellte. Das Lächeln, das er manches Mal sogar bei ihren gemeinsamen Tagen geschafft hatte fotografisch für die Ewigkeit einzufangen. Auch wenn sie es hasste und ihm drohte die Fotos zu zerreissen.
Sie empfing ihn mit einer überschwänglichen Umarmung und er drückte sie und hob sie hoch, sodass ihre Füße ein paar Zentimeter über dem Boden baumelten. Alles wie immer.
Gemeinsam stiegen sie hinab in den wohltuend kühlen Keller und steuerten ihre Umkleide an. Ihr Lachen hallte von den Wänden zurück und die Freude über das Wiedersehen erfüllte den Gang. Als sie die Umkleide betraten lief ebenfalls alles wie immer ab. Ihre Bewegungen waren zwar über die Jahre langsamer, jedoch nie weniger grazil oder elegant, geworden. Sie nahm vor dem Schminktisch Platz und legte ihr breites Haarband an, um die Strähnen aus dem Gesicht zu halten, während er sich auf einem mit Samt bezogenen Schemel niederließ und die Kamera aus der Tasche kramte.
“Danke für die Einladung, ich freue mich so dich zu sehen!”, murmelte er, während er den Akku überprüfte.
“Ach, Dummkopf, seit wann bedankst du dich denn dafür? Es war doch klar, dass ich dich einladen würde, wenn ich hierher zurückkehre.”, lachte sie.
“Ja, hier hat alles begonnen.”
“Naja, nicht genau hier, aber in dieser Stadt, da hast du Recht. Gibt es das kleine Hinterhoftheater eigentlich noch? Ich hätte zu gern dort gespielt. Um der alten Zeiten Willen, weißt du?”
“Ach nein, leider nicht, daraus haben sie vor zwei Jahren eine Bar mit angeschlossener veganer Küche oder sowas gemacht. Aber vielleicht könnten wir dort gemeinsam essen. Um der alten Zeiten Willen, weißt du?”, grinste er.
“Pah! Ich bin Italienerin! Wenn meine Mamma hören würde, dass ich ausgerechnet mit dir, ausgerechnet in dieser Stadt mein Essen in einem veganen Restaurant einnehme, ich sag dir, sie würde sich im Grab herumdrehen! Das kann ich ihr nicht antun. Dann biete mir lieber Pommes Currywurst Mayo an. Das würde sie zwar auch ärgern, aber immerhin wäre Fleisch dabei.”, empörte sie sich scherzhaft.
Endlich hatte er die Kamera einsatzbereit und fing an ein paar Probeaufnahmen zu machen und die Einstellungen den gegebenen Lichtverhältnissen anzupassen während sie ihr Gesicht mit einer dicken Schicht Feuchtigkeitscreme eincremte.
“Ich möchte, dass du dir heut besonders viel Mühe gibst, mein Lieber. Du musst alles festhalten. Das wird der Auftritt meines Lebens! Dieses Stück habe ich noch nie gespielt, es ist eine absolute Premiere!”
Er runzelte die Stirn, irgendwas lag in ihrer Stimme, das er nicht genau definieren konnte. Er schaute sie prüfend an.
Sie atmete kurz ein und setzte ein Lächeln auf.
“Na, was ist?”, lachte sie und schmierte ihm mit der Fingerspitze einen dicken Klecks Creme auf die Nase.
“Hey!”, machte er und wischte sich die Creme mit dem Handrücken ab. “Ja, natürlich! Es scheint dir ja sehr wichtig zu sein.”
“Absolut. Es ist wie gesagt eine absolute Premiere und du weißt, man hat nur ein Mal die Chance, da alles im Detail festzuhalten.”
Sie drehte sich zu ihm und nahm seine beiden Hände in die ihren. Ihr Blick wurde ernster und sie schaute ihm direkt in die Augen.
“Es bedeutet mir wirklich sehr viel, dass du heut gekommen bist und dass du derjenige bist, der die Momente der Premiere einfängt. Du musst alles festhalten. Alles! Es ist mir wirklich wichtig. Und ich weiß, dass du es verstehst.”
Überrascht über ihren plötzlichen Ernst drückte er ihre Hände ein kleines bisschen fester und versicherte ihr, dass er sich die allergrößte Mühe geben würde, die großartigen sowie die kleinen Momente des Abends einzufangen und festzuhalten.
Dann bat sie ihn, sie noch für die letzte Stunde vor der Show allein zu lassen, wie sie es immer tat, um sich komplett auf ihr Spiel vorzubereiten.
Währenddessen ging er ins Foyer und machte ein paar Detailaufnahmen und ging dann hinaus auf den Vorplatz, passte die Kameraeinstellungen wieder den Lichtverhältnissen an und dokumentierte fotografisch die immer größer werdende Schar von Menschen, die sich zusammenfand. Trotzdem fand er auch hier und da Zeit mit alten Bekannten, wie dem Kartenverkäufer Johann und der Choreographin Christina zu plauschen.
Dann war es endlich so weit und die Platzanweiser baten das Publikum auf den vorgesehenen Plätzen, errichtet aus Paletten und bestückt mit bunten Kissen Platz zu nehmen.
Er positionierte sich so, dass er die ganze Bühne, die im Eigentlichen die Stufen des Theatereingangs waren, gut im Blick hatte.
Es wurde ruhig und das Stück begann.
Durch den Sucher seiner Kamera verfolgte er das ganze Stück, hielt jedes Lachen, jeden dramatischen Moment, jeden Kuss, jede Ohrfeige und jeden Tanz fest.
Die Kostüme waren atemberaubend und das Spiel aller Darsteller überragend. Raffaela spielte als ginge es um ihre Karriere, ihre Existenz, ja ihr ganzes Dasein und Leben. Sie war überwältigend. In all den Jahren hatte sie nichts von ihrer Anmut, ihrer Eleganz, ihrem Ausdruck, ihrer Stärke eingebüßt. Das Leben hatte seine Spuren in kleinen Fältchen um die Augen- und Mundwinkel und auf der Stirn, die sie sehr gut zu kaschieren wusste und in silbernen Haarsträhnen, die nun in der Abendsonne schimmerten, hinterlassen. Aber nichts davon nahm ihr etwas von ihrer Schönheit, von ihrer Präsenz.
Dem Spannungsbogen folgend wurde auch das Spiel immer intensiver, die Fotos eindrucksvoller, das Publikum ruhiger. Man hätte eine Stecknadel auf den Pflastersteinen fallen hören können.
Mitten auf dem Höhepunkt, der Klimax, als Raffaela in ihrer Rolle die wichtigsten Worte des Stückes sprechen sollte und sich dazu dem Publikum mit einer weit ausholenden Geste zuwandte, hielten alle den Atem an. Sie fasste sich an die Brust, ihre Hand ballte sich über ihrem Herzen zu einer Faust und sie streckte die andere Hand sehnsüchtig aus.
Er lies die Kamera sinken und blickte ihr direkt in die Augen. Dann brach sie zusammen.
Unsicher, ob es sich noch um einen Teil des Stückes handelte oder nicht, blieb es stumm im Publikum. Als jedoch die Darsteller anfingen, hilfesuchend nach den Platzanweisern und dem Regisseur zu schauen, wurde allen klar: Das hier war nicht mehr Teil des Stücks. Dies war bittere Realität.
Dann ging alles fürchterlich schnell. Der Krankenwagen wurde gerufen, alle rannten wie wild durcheinander, ein Sanitäter versuchte Erste Hilfe zu leisten, Christina die Choreographin koordinierte die fassungslosen Schauspieler und wies ihnen Aufgaben zu und Johann beruhigte das Publikum.
Er stand regungslos in der hektischen Masse, unfähig sich zu bewegen. Dann erinnerte er sich an Raffaelas Worte: “Du musst alles festhalten. Alles!”
Als wenn ihn plötzlich ein Blitz durchfahren hätte, riss er die Kamera hoch und fing an, alles zu fotografieren, die Hektik, die Menschen, das Abendrot, die weinenden und unter Schock stehenden Kollegen, dann sie. Wie schön sie dalag. Regungslos und doch noch voller Leben. “Du musst alles festhalten. Alles!” Er ließ die Kamera sinken und beugte sich über sie. Selbst der Tod stand ihr gut, mit ihrem perfekt gezogenen Lidstrich, den expressiven, rot bemalten Lippen. Selbst der Tod konnte ihr nichts nehmen. Außer dem Leben.
Er hielt sie fest bis der Krankenwagen kam und die Rettungskräfte sie aus seinen Armen nahmen.
Dann Ruhe. Stille. Leere.
Alles um ihn herum nahm er nur als schemenhaft, surreal war. Er saß da. Sonst nichts.
Es mussten Stunden vergangen sein, denn es war schon dunkel, die Straßenlaternen gingen an und der Mond brach hinter den Wolken hervor.
In der Zwischenzeit waren Bühne und Sitzplätze abgebaut worden, nur Reste von Glitzer und Konfetti, Teile des Bühnenbildes, gaben den Anschein, dass etwas stattgefunden hatte.
Ein Schatten näherte sich ihm. Es war Melina, die kleine Tochter von Johann. Sie blieb vor ihm stehen und streckte ihm etwas entgegen.
Den Nebel vor den Augen durch eine Geste wegwischend besann er sich.
“Was ist das?”, fragte er.
“Die Tante Raffaela hat mir das gegeben. Es ist ein Brief. Glaube ich. Also die Tante Raffaela hat mir das gegeben und sie hat gesagt es ist ganz geheim und ich soll dir das geben, wenn das Stück vorbei ist und alle nach Hause gehen. Also, sie hat gesagt das ist ganz ganz geheim und ich darf das niemandem sagen. Hab ich auch nicht!”, sprudelte Melina los und hob zwei Finger schwörend in die Luft.
Mit regungsloser Mine nahm er den Brief entgegen und starrte das Mädchen an.
“Willst du nicht aufmachen?”, fragte sie neugierig und beugte sich dabei leicht nach vorn und scharrte mit der Fußspitze über den Boden.
“Melina? Melina! Komm jetzt, es ist spät genug, wir müssen nach Hause, Mama wartet.”, das war Johann.
“Och, man! Du, sagst du mir, was drin steht, wenn du ihn gelesen hast?”, sie sah ihn erwartungsvoll an.
“Es ist doch geheim.”, brachte er hervor.
“Hm, ja stimmt.”, sagte Melina enttäuscht, bevor sie sich aufmachte, um ihrem Vater zu folgen.
“Danke!”, rief er ihr hinterher.
Als alle gegangen waren und nur die nächste Straßenlaterne den Vorplatz in schummriges Licht tauchte, öffnete er den Brief und las:
“Mein lieber, lieber Freund,
wenn du das hier liest, habe ich die größte und schwerste Rolle meines Lebens bereits gespielt, habe abgedankt und die Bretter, die die Welt bedeuten und immer meine Welt waren, würdevoll verlassen. Da du der beste Freund bist, den ich habe und du mich verstehst, wirst du alles, ja alles eingefangen haben, so wie ich dich drum gebeten habe. Es tut mir leid, dass ich dir das zugemutet habe, aber es ging nicht anders. Es war unser letzter gemeinsamer Tanz und ich wollte, dass du so viele Erinnerungen wie nur möglich davon festhältst.
Ich danke dir für jahrzehntelange Freundschaft. Es ist jedoch Zeit, dir mehr zu sagen als ich je vermochte. Zeit blieb mir keine mehr, und ich wusste es, ich wusste, dass es eine Premiere und ein Abschied sein würde. Daher nehme ich mir nun die Zeit, all die unausgesprochenen Dinge niederzuschreiben. Denn du, ja du hast noch Zeit. Zeit, diese Zeilen zu lesen.
Amore mio,
es gibt so viel zu sagen und so vieles, das du nicht weißt. Du kennst mich lang genug, gut genug und doch hast du so manches nicht verstanden, mein liebenswerter Dummkopf.
Ich hab dich immer geliebt. Vom ersten Tag an.
Ich hab dich geliebt als du als Lehrling mit zerzaustem Haar das Interview für deine Abschlussmappe und die fotografischen Arbeiten dazu mit mir erstellt hast. Ich hab dich geliebt, als wir uns in den niederländischen Grachten auf einen Kaffee trafen, weil ich dort spielte und du deine Ausstellung dort hattest. Ich hab dich geliebt als du mir Postkarten aus Rom schriebst, einzig mit Fotos von Gebäuden darauf, weil du wusstest, wie viel mir die Architektur bedeutet. Ich hab dich geliebt bei jeder Karte, die ich dir schrieb, von jedem Spielort dieser Welt, den ich bereisen und bespielen durfte.
Ich hab dich geliebt als ich Giovanni auf Wunsch meines Vaters heiratete, nachdem er und meine Mamma mir klarmachten, dass außer einem Italiener ihnen kein Mann an meiner Seite ins Haus käme und ich auch bei all meinen Mitspielern auf der Bühne ja nicht auf die Idee kommen sollte, etwas anderes zu denken. Ich hab dich geliebt als du die Hochzeitsfotos von unserer Hochzeit so liebevoll erstellt und überreicht hast. Ich hab dich geliebt, als du schließlich Beatrice gefunden und geheiratet hast. Ich hab dich geliebt, als ich dein freudestrahlendes Gesicht sah als du Vater von Zwillingen wurdest, einem Jungen und einem Mädchen. Ich hab dich geliebt als ich selbst erfuhr, dass ich schwanger war und ja auch als ich meinen Jungen unter Schmerzen auf die Welt brachte und ihn das erste Mal in den Armen hielt und Giovanni meine Stirn küsste, hab ich dich geliebt. Ich hab dich geliebt als du kreative Blockaden hattest, überlegt hast, alles hinzuwerfen, die Fotografie aufzugeben, ich hab dich geliebt, als deine Ehe zu scheitern begann, als deine Kinder sich gegen dich wandten, als du deine Freizeit vor dem Scheidungsgericht verbringen musstest. Ich hab dich geliebt als ich in einer Phase war, in der ich wieder und wieder abgelehnt wurde, die Rollenangebote ausblieben, Leute sich von mir abwandten und ich anfing an mir selbst zu zweifeln und du mir, obwohl ich nie darum bat, Mut zugesprochen hast und meintest, es kämen wieder bessere Zeiten. Ich hab dich geliebt als diese besseren Zeiten kamen und die Leute zurückkamen. Ich hab dich in jedem Wort, in jeder Zeile eines jeden deiner Briefe geliebt. Ich hab dich in jedem verschwommenen Foto und auch in den gestochen scharfen geliebt. All die Jahre, all die Zeit. Ich hab dich geliebt als ich erfuhr, dass meine Zeit begrenzt ist und wie begrenzt genau. Ich hab dich geliebt als du eingewilligt hast, diese eine, diese letzte Premiere festzuhalten. Und ich liebe dich während ich diese Zeilen hier schreibe.
Amore mio, um einen letzten Gefallen muss ich dich dennoch bitten und ich weiß, du wirst ihn mir nicht abschlagen: Bitte vergiss mich nicht und küsse diesen Brief bevor du ihn zurück in den Umschlag steckst, ja? Danke.”

Er starrte auf die Zeilen vor ihm, atmete flach, der Kloß in seinem Hals drohte ihm die Luft abzuschnüren und die Zeilen begannen zu verschwimmen, weil ihm Tränen in die Augen stiegen.
Er holte tief Luft und erfüllte Raffaela ihren letzten Wunsch.
Dann brach er zusammen.

Gina Laventura © 2019

#freelancefriday: Myths and Prejudices

Auf Deutsch lesen

#freelancefriday: Myths and Prejudices

Hey my dears,

today for something different.
First, I told you I prepared something to make up for my belated #writerswednesday post and secondly, I thought this idea was a good one.
As I talked to other creatives and also listened to the German podcast Creative Kraut* from a good friend of mine, this idea popped up in my mind and stayed there, so I thought it might be interesting for you to read a little bit about the life of a freelancer.
Why am I entitled to speak about these things? Well, mostly because I have been working as a freelancer for 6 years now, officially, woop woop.
Six years?! Yep, instead of searching for a part time student job, I decided to build up my freelance business beside my studies.
Sounds so cool, right? Haha, well, if I did my calculation right, there were many months in which working a part time student job would have been wayyyy more lucrative 😀
But, I learned a lot along the way and it brought me where I am today.

And since nowadays on all the platforms setting up your own business and leaving your corporate job and do what you love is so intensively and extensively promoted, I thought you might be interested in me sharing a part of my journey and thoughts upon it.
What do you think? Good idea or rather “hard liquor idea” (Schnapsidee is what we call it in German, don’t ask me why, probably because your ideas after consuming hard liquor might be quite, erm, weird?!)
So, let me know, if you’d like me to continue this series in the comments below or as usual on any other platform like Facebook or Instagram or even via email.

What I prepared for today is to do away with some of the myths and prejudices that are connected to the perception of freelance work.
I’ll post a statement, just like the ones I have heard or read in the eyes of my interlocutors, and then touch upon them.
Of course, as always, the answers derive from my own opinion and experience and are not to be generalised.

Little disclaimer: I write from the perspective and experience of a freelancer working and living in Germany. Of course, certain regulations and have-to’s might differ in your very own country. I would love to hear about freelance work in other countries, so please feel free to share your experience!

So, let’s start with the myths & prejudices:

1. Oh, wow, so you don’t have to work 9 to 5 and can schedule your work as you please!

Well, it depends on the job you got booked for.
If you’re booked for a coaching session on a regular basis or giving courses, of course you have to show up when it’s supposed to take place, huh?
But sure, preparing and the work afterwards you could do when your time allows, as long as you are prepared for the next session.
If it’s a job with a deadline but no schedule in between, it might seem as if you could sleep in and paint your nails all day and then just work one hour here and one hour there.
But let’s assume you have more than one project running at the same time (which by the way is not unusual, as it has something to do with money, too, but I’ll come to that in a minute) and then you have to be an effing master of time management to not lose track and guess what, my dears, often you end up working late and you don’t have a weekend and due to that it might also happen that you forget which day it is at all.

2. THAT is your rate per hour?! You’re earning a fortune!!

Phew, okay, breathe in, breathe out.
Yes, my hourly rate is higher than what you earn in your regular job if you take your monthly income and divide it by your working days and then hours.
BUT: I don’t have a boss that pays a certain percentage or even half of my health insurance. I am my boss. Means I pay 100%.
Depending on the field you work in, you might be obliged to take a private insurance, as is often the case for freelancers in Germany.
Little note: we make a difference between freier Mitarbeiter and Freiberufler, which could be translated as free employee and freelancer, so the latter is mostly by definition a lawyer, architect or – like me – someone working in a creative field, like an author for example.
And private insurance is never cheap.
Furthermore, I don’t have paid vacation. Every day I don’t go to work is a day I don’t earn money.
I repeat: Every day that I don’t go to work is a day that I don’t earn money.
Let that sink in for a moment.
And yes, that means for many freelancers that they go to work although they are ill as a dog, because they simply can’t afford to be sick.
Additionally, I run on projects. Sometimes a project contract is as long as one year, sometimes it’s some months and sometimes it’s a short term thing, like editing a book within a week.
That my friends, means that I have to earn as much as possible in a short time span because in most cases, if you’re not lucky, you don’t have a following project already signed, so it might happen that you have to live on your savings for months or longer. (Note: Your fix costs are still gonna be booked from your bank account, because they don’t give an eff whether you have income or not)
That, connected to what I said before, leads to many freelancers taking nearly every option for a job, even many short term ones, to ensure they have enough savings if the next project start is delayed.
And that in turn makes many freelancers end up having no weekend at all but working their butts off in order to gain a feeling of pseudo-security.
And now, my dears, imagine that nearly 80% (number is estimated, no proof) of the people interested in your services try to press your prices down and negotiate with you.
Try not to look desperate and to keep some self-confidence and self-worth remaining.

3. It’s really cool, you can choose your projects and your work is so diverse, it must be exciting!

Mh, yes and no.
Yes, it’s true, the work can be very diverse as you might be editing a cook book for one client, translate a website for a coach, go on trade fairs as a translator for cosmetics and support the relaunch of the virtual spaces of a shoe company.
Sure, it’s diverse. And that’s an absolute lovable trait to freelance work, to my mind.
But it also means, if all or some of the projects are running in parallel, that your brain needs to work quickly and to stay flexible enough to jump through three different topics within 12 hours and still deliver the best work it can. Or within a week you might have to change the writing style, switch your brain from one language to the other and stick to appointments and schedules.
So, yes, it is exciting and you get many insights into different fields of work and you can learn amazingly much!
(How many things I learned from editing texts about topics that voluntarily I would never have dived into as deep. And then suddenly you find yourself on a party talking about digitalisation, smart homes, finances and medicine, just because your brain remembered the pages you edited. haha)
So, yes, it is exciting, but it can also be very exhausting.
And on some days you just wish you had “a normal life”, come home at the same time of the day and then be free to do the things that need to be done (grocery shopping, household stuff) – because guess what, besides all the project and topic hopping, that needs to be done, too in a freelancer’s life – and then chill with a good book or your favourite movie.
But it would be a lie if I claimed that it’s not diverse or not exciting. Of course, not every project is a wow one, and even in projects you love there are days where you just don’t feel it.
But that’s definitely a trait of freelance work that I consider exciting.

So, so much for the myths.
Before people start arguing now, let me take a stand for myself:
1. I don’t mean to say that freelance work is shit because you don’t get paid vacay or because you have to work a lot and have to deal with a certain insecurity when it comes to projects. I don’t mean to complain about that, either, cause you could say “Well, that’s what you chose. Nobody forced you. You can still go and search for a regular job. It was your decision.” and I wouldn’t have any counter argument against that.
2. Neither do I mean to belittle regular jobs and praise freelance work or claim that freelance work is more stressful than a regular job. Heck, no! A friend of mine is a nurse and I know how much stress that means, and yes it’s a regular job including paid vacation and health insurance, etc., and I truly admire her and her colleagues for doing what they do. Just like I admire everyone getting up in the morning, whatever they work and giving it their best.
3. My main aim is to create awareness and to do away with some of the commonly spread misconceptions as I’d call them about freelance work. Sheesh, when you look onto social media it seems like everybody’s telling you to throw your regular job into a trash bin and follow your dream and do what you love.
What I’m aiming to say is: Please consider some points of freelance work before you throw anything into the bin, okay?
Just because you’re working as a freelancer and have different project options in diverse fields doesn’t mean that you live your dream, because as stated before, sometimes you just have to take the next best offer to pay the bills, you know.

I don’t mean to put any of the jobs, be it regular or freelance, on a pedestal and talk the other one down.
Understanding in both directions is what I’d like to create.

Let me know what you think.
Are you a freelancer and loving it?
Do you have a regular job and are playing with the idea to step into the freelance life? (if so, I hope my post didn’t make you hate the idea, that wasn’t my intention. If that’s what you wanna do, do it, I just say, inform yourself and do your research and do not dreamily trip into something and when you wake up you think “what have I done?!”)
Have you experienced both sides, and if so, which one do you prefer and why?

Let me know in the comments below.

So long, my dears







*[unpaid ad]

#writerswednesday: Pro vs. Passion

Beitrag auf Deutsch

#writerswednesday:Pro vs. Passion

Hey my dears,

it’s #writerswednesday again. Yes, I know I’m too late, but sorry, “real life” as the grown-ups call it, kept me busy.
But don’t worry, I’m planning on something as a compensation to make up for the delay.

So, what’s today’s topic?
We’re going to have a little chit chat about writing as a profession and writing as a passion.
Which, by the way, does not necessarily exclude one another.
But step by step.

So, let’s say you’re a writer. A passionate one. Maybe you’re a good one. Maybe even a great one.
Let us be honest, tendencies are quite high that you’re not writing for a living.
(If you are, please get in contact with me or comment on this post, I’d love to hear your opinion on all that’s gonna follow now.)

So, maybe you have tried to get your works into publishing houses or maybe you didn’t.
Well, which other options are there to work as a writer?
You could be an editor, so correcting other people’s texts, books, websites, dissertations and other academic texts.
Or you could work as a copy writer in an advertising agency or a marketing agency.
If you have profound journalistic knowledge, maybe you’re even working for a newspaper or magazine. As a writer. Or editor.
Or as something completely different, as it is quite often the case.
But let’s assume your work has something to do with writing, be it building headlines and capturing texts in order to market a product or be it reading and correcting books or other written works.

It was in Austin Kleon’s books Steal like an Artist* and Show your Work* that I was confronted with the idea that instead of aiming for a writing career there is a moment of bliss when your writing hasn’t been commercialised yet, because you can follow your passion and be as free as you want to. No expectations, no briefings, no deadlines, no customer that wants some particular text from you.
In that moment, years ago, when I read it, I was a bit taken aback by this utterance, but the more I thought about it, the more it dawned on me what he meant.
A similar thing is what I experienced in my academic work, because as long as I could choose a topic and hold a presentation on it in a manner which was rather free, besides the design of the slides that was mandatory, I felt like doing exactly what I wanted to do. But once I was asked to write a term paper with all its framework and structure and requirements, I felt so under pressure and was so concentrated on making my academic work fit into the framework, that I actually didn’t pay as much attention to delivering the content in an understandable and logical manner. (I know there is a problem with this example, as presentation and written term paper are two different mediums, but let it just sit here for the sake of the argument, okay? thanks.)

Anyway, as long as your art is not commercialised (yet) you can do what ever you like as you’re not obliged to please a client.
Of course, you should keep your audience in mind and create content that they hopefully gonna love, but that’s not the same as someone yelling at you “THAT is what I paid you for?!”.
You get the idea, I guess.

So, does this now mean that as a professional you’re not passionate?
And vice versa: A passionate creative is not professional?

Well, I’d object both ideas.
But, I’d say the way in which you burn for your own projects differs from the passion you put into your professional work.
My professional services range from text creation to translations, editing and professional storytelling to writing texts for special occasions and I wouldn’t say that there is no passion whatsoever behind it. I love this kind of work!
But I have to admit, the process of creation oftentimes differs from a spontaneous poetic idea that you can’t write down quick enough before it slips through your fingers.

On the other hand, when concerned with my own creative projects, I do not lack a professional approach when it comes to organising a photo shooting, planning in advance or when preparing photo and text combinations.
For instance my Instagram account displays mostly my passionate creative projects and not my booked professional work. But I do plan and organise which post goes together with which picture, when to post it, etc., so I’d claim there is a professional approach towards it.
Admittedly, if I do not stick to the planned postings because I don’t feel like it and prefer another idea, of course, in this field I’m free and flexible to do as I please, which is not the case with a booked service.

Nevertheless, I wouldn’t claim that profession and passion exclude each other.
But the emphasis might differ.

The question is:
Will you really lose your passion once your art becomes your profession?

I for my part, cannot give any hands-on advice on that, as my professional work and my passionate creativity revolve both around language and writing, but differ concerning the content and purpose.
But I know from a friend, who used to draw passionately, that once she had to draw for clients, she felt like losing the passion for what used to lighten up her days and meant fun and relaxation for her.
I’d claim there are often phases, whether it’s writer’s block or just being fed up with something you used to pursue passionately in your free time, but once it gets to the level that you can’t find any joy in it anymore and feel the urge to quit it all together, maybe reconsidering your choices and then adjust them, might help you not lose your passion.
For me personally, I think it is a bliss that everything I do is more or less connected by the red thread of language and text, but that professional and passionate work (because actually, it’s both work, though one might be paid and the other not or not in the same manner) differ content-wise.
If that is possible for you, maybe that’s an option for you, too.
I know others who would get distracted by having so many different projects running and who prefer to concentrate on one approach or method or type of work completely. (Which I can understand completely btw!)
And it’s not that I chose all my work to differ to this extent, but it just took its way in that direction for now and I see the positive in it.

Fortunately, I never got to a point where I considered giving up writing all together.
Giving up Instagram? Yes.
Deleting Facebook? Yes.
Stop blogging? Yes.
But writing itself and for itself? Never.

Whether that was now supported by the fact that my professional and passionate work differ or whether it’s just written into my bones and onto my heart, I can’t define.

What’s your opinion and/or experience with that?
Did you make your passion your profession and regret it afterwards?
Do you purposely not make your passion your profession?

Please share your thoughts, I’m eager to know.

So long, my dears










*As an Amazon Associate I earn from qualifying purchases.

#writerswednesday: Tips for Creativity & Inspiration

#writerswednesday: tips for creativity & inspiration

As there are many creatives out there in different fields, be it photography, film making, writing, singing, acting, modelling, dancing, painting, whatever, I realised that often they are confronted with the same or similar problems.
Some of them being in the direction of the following:

* I’m not in the mood, I don’t know where to go with my art, it feels useless what I’m doing
* I have the feeling that I’m just repeating and reproducing what I’ve already done
* I have too many ideas and my mind is all over the place so that I feel like getting actually nothing done

These and similar thoughts I myself have encountered, but I also heard them quite frequently from other creatives, as by now I know quite many of them.
That’s why I’d like to share some advice with you. And this is not just for writers or photographers or other creatives.
Creative comes from create and therefore, any task that creates something can be seen as a creative task.
Be it gardening, redecorating your home or something else.
To cope with all these negative, limiting and blocking thoughts, I’m gonna share some tips with you that helped me all along the way of my creative path.

1. Take a break, have a coffee*. Consume art.

* can be substituted by anything you like, tea, whiskey, chocolate, cake…

When you feel like not being in the mood, like having all these ideas in your mind but they don’t mould into the next great piece of art, leave it. Let it take a rest. Don’t let inspiration run away, but give it a little time.
If you feel like being really blocked from it, it can also help to consume a lot of art to get into your own flow again.
As a writer, read. And read a lot.
As a photographer or model, watch a lot of pictures, follow other models/photographers and get your inspo board refreshed.
As a film maker, watch a lot of movies.
As a cook, read recipes, watch cooking shows or youtube videos.
The list could go on like that now, but I think you already got it.
This is not to say consume a lot in order to copy, but in order to get your inspiration back on track.

2. Sit down. Turn your phone off. Produce.

When your mind is so overflowing with ideas that you’re loosing track and you always think “I don’t know where to start.” this is gonna be lethal to your inspirational flow.
Instead, sometimes, although it feels like sh*t, just take the next best thing on your list (or if you already prioritised, take the top priority), sit down and get something done. Just start.
Or if you feel totally lost, like nothing great is coming out of your mind, take one thing that has been on your to do list for a quite a while or take a small creative task and push it forward.

As Picasso said “Inspiration exists, but it has to find you working.”

So, if you’re missing inspiration, it’s not necessarily gonna come while you’re contemplating about not having inspiration, you know.
In most cases, negative thoughts create a negative environment, so why should inspiration feel invited?
Create an invitational environment for inspiration and keep on working!

3. Try something new.

If you feel like you’re stuck in a rut and you’re only reproducing and repeating things that you already did and you tend to be bored by yourself and your art, just try something new.
Again, this is not to copy someone else, but if for instance you’re a writer of romantic stories and you’re completely stuck, try to write, dunno, a detective story or something from a different genre. Just to see whether you like it or not, to challenge yourself and to keep your mind in your creative field but with a different perspective.
This can also add to your own authentic voice, because maybe you find out that you actually like this genre, or parts of it or even that you don’t like it at all. It doesn’t matter. Either way it’s gonna show you something about you and your art and work.
For me, I realised that the #sundaystory helped a lot with this. It is challenging to combine the prompts to something coherent and as the mood or tone or genre is given as well, sometimes they are completely off my normal field of creative work. But I consider it exciting and really refreshing to use my skills in a different genre and to learn and grow with it.
Of course, this also works in other fields, cook something new, wear a combination of clothes that you haven’t worn before, style yourself in a manner that you’ve never styled yourself before in, take photos of things that normally don’t attract your photographic attention, etc.
Just try something new. It’s refreshing and helps you grow and learn.
About you. About your work. About your art.

4. Communicate. Meet friends. Chitchat. Share. Exchange.

One of my creeds and believes is “Inspiration through communication”.
Oftentimes while chatting with close friends, business partners and strangers, this exchange gives me impulses that hit a spot that was untouched before. And sometimes a good conversation is all you need to get you back on track again.
More often than not, when my mind is overflowing with ideas and I don’t how to prioritise them or whether they make sense or not, calling my best friend and chatting with her over a nice cup of coffee is the best thing I can do.
It’s not only her input, although it’s a beautiful input and I feel blessed to have such great friends, but it’s also that while you’re talking to someone else, you’re also talking to yourself and in that moment you shape things in a manner that you weren’t able to when everything was just in your own head.

5. Take yourself on a date.

As much as communication and conversation with people can be inspiring and give you impulses, as much is it important to take some time just for yourself. And no, darling, I don’t mean you on your own, glued to your phone, having a ton of chats open and still communicating with others.
I mean you, yourself and you again.
And when I say take yourself on a date, I really mean it.
Don’t go to the laundry service alone with a cuppa to go and call it a date, ok?
Don’t cheat!
I really mean, if you were another person taking yourself on a date, what would it look like?
Would you go to a restaurant? A cafe? To the cinema? Taking a long walk in a park?
Whatever you consider your dream date to look like, don’t wait for anyone, treat yourself to it.
Sometimes you would find me in a cafe with a cup of coffee and a piece of cake, mostly with my paper notebook or my laptop or a book to read, enjoying some time alone, just doing things that I love and that inspire me.
And no, no, no, I don’t do it to have a cute picture to post on instagram.
I mean yes, you caught me, that happened too, but I don’t go there in the first place to promote and advertise dating oneself on social media, you know. If I do so, I do it because I’m in the mood.
One of the things that I also love doing is getting up early in the morning, when the streets are still quiet and drive into a city, any city that I like, and walk the streets, watching all the details of architecture for example, taking pictures of the rising sun between houses or a beautiful flower on a wall or anything that captures my attention and that I therefore want to capture too. It’s really an intensive feeling taking a walk alone and watch a city waking up.
Sometimes I also take a walk in a forest or in a park or at a sea, whatever I feel like. And yes, a lot of the times I’m talking to myself.
I mean, hey, this is a date, huh? And normally we do talk on dates, don’t we?

General advice: Disconnect.
In many cases it’s a good choice to enjoy these moments disconnected from emails, social media and chats.
This is not a necessity, but it helps you refocus on what’s important to you without comparing yourself and your art to others and their work. And this gives you more freedom in your mind to work on your very own business.
You can still share the pictures you took, the things you’ve done, the experiences you made later on, but grant yourself a little time to really feel them inside of yourself.

I hope these tips and advice gave you some impulses on how to get yourself and your creative energy flowing again.
Of course there are many more things that I could put on this list and I might make a series out of it, but right now, I don’t want to bore you until the last spark of inspirational flow ran out by reading a blog post that was waaaayyyy too long.

Plus, guess what I’m gonna do? Yup, I just heard some coffee call my name. Can you hear it, too?

Blogwarming Party

Hier Beitrag auf Deutsch lesen

norbert josefsson


Grab a drink, take a seat or join me on the dance floor and let’s celebrate together.
The sofa is already there, decoration is not yet complete, table and chairs are ordered but not yet delivered, so take some cushions and make yourself comfortable in my place of creativity, my new virtual home.

Just like a housewarming party where not everything is 100% ready and perfect, I throw this blogwarming party today, where the frame is set, new layout plastered on the walls, but some details might still be added or removed in the course of the coming weeks.
Nevertheless, I hope you enjoy it here and that you come over and visit me often.

After two years of not blogging, many months of planning the new layout, structuring ideas and setting up a whole strategy and subject schedule, pulling all-nighter after all-nighter in order to progress and proceed here, my fingertips are still covered in colour, my hair’s a mess and I’m still sweating.

But you see me with a smile on my face as it feels good to be back.

Let me give you a quick “room tour”. – Everybody should know where the loo and the fridge with fresh beer is, huh? –
On top you find the different topics.
The portfolio offers you an insight into my photo and video repertoire.
The about section offers you information on me, this blog and my work. Same in German below.
The services section gives you an overview of the services I offer on this website, including modelling and writing with the specific services of poetry & prose for special occasions and professional storytelling.
Contact & booking explains itself, I guess.
The Creative Chaos Cloud shows you all categories which you can find blog entries about, so that you can quickly get to the topics you’re interested in.

So much for the room tour, I hope you’re gonna find your way and if you still have questions, don’t hesitate to ask me. I’m trying to be a good host, you know.

What are the plans for the next weeks, what do I offer and why should you come back?
First of all, I’ve worked hard on a concept and contents that might be of value and interest for you.
So, here is what I came up with:
I will blog four times a month, so once a week about topics connected to the different fields I’m working in. One topic a week, that is.
Thus, what you gonna get is this:
#modelmonday: Information for models and photographers, funny anecdotes I experienced during 10 years in front of the camera and other info connected to this field.
#writerswednesday: Information for writers and readers, food for thought, inspiration and impulses revolving around writing and reading.
#socialsaturday: Random topics connected to us humans interacting with one another, social phenomenons, questions, perspectives, impulses on social topics.
#sundaystory: Yes, the sundaystory will be back and we gonna play again. If you don’t know what the sundaystory is, please click here. I will announce the next round early enough, but this won’t be before August probably, as I still owe two of my readers their stories.

After this blogwarming party, where you can take your time to stroll around and look at the redecoration, the new furniture and features, there will be a special series on the balcony, a.k.a instagram. So, don’t forget to check out my plants on the balcony, too.
Plus, I will also take you with me behind the scenes of creative productions in the insta stories.
The special series has been a production with Norbert Josefsson, which we produced last year, but I considered it so beautiful that I kept it for a special moment.
And I think that moment has come now.
So every day, starting on Friday, 15th June, I’m going to post one picture with text on instagram and facebook, which will add up to a series of six. On Thursday, 21st, you will get the complete series here on the blog as well as on instagram.

After the special we will start off with the first sundaystory on the 24th, as it has been two years of me owing these stories to two of my readers.
I hope you’re still there and I hope you still gonna read it.

Which leads me, after the organisational part, to the speech I’m supposed to give on such an event before everybody starts popping bottles like crazy – or at least that’s what I’m gonna do –.
Ahem, clink clink, ladies and gents, may I have your attention please: (you better grab another shot and drink, this is gonna take a while – or just skip the part written in italics – the perk of being here virtually and not in reality)

Thanks for being here tonight, for sharing this moment with me, for taking some time out of your busy day to join this celebration.
I’d like to thank all of the followers here on WordPress that stayed although I haven’t blogged for two years, which, in nowadays time is like an eternity.
Also I’d like to thank all the followers on instagram that didn’t unfollow when I didn’t post for six months, which is close to social media suicide.
I’d like to thank the virtual community for staying with me, supporting me and being patient with me.

Most of all, I’d like to thank the people, especially my closest friends, who virtually and in real life sent me their positive vibes and words, who encouraged me to keep up the work, who relentlessly kept asking about my work, my art, my blog, my writings and my poetry, who invested their time and energy to provide me with tipps and tricks, good advice and knowledge about social media, who gave me input and impulses for new content, who were patient with me when I asked for advice and feedback and who were loving and caring when I had to say “no” to events and instead had to sit down and work, who shared their nurturing positive energy with me and who knowingly or unknowingly inspired me and fuelled my motivation.

Without all of you, your patience and support, we probably wouldn’t be celebrating today.
It wasn’t an easy time and task, but now we’re here and I raise my glass to all of you. I’m forever grateful.

martin zethoff

Now enough of the talk and enjoy your time here, I hope you gonna stay a little longer and come back frequently.
If you have any questions, let me know.


Lonely Heart of an Artist

Lonely Heart of an Artist

Maybe I have to have a lonely heart to be a good artist.
From time to time I’m allowed a small glimpse of what it feels like to be connected and this feeling causes enthusiasm and enthusiasm causes energy and this energy can be transformed into art.
Maybe I’d be a better artist if I had found the other half but I mean it’s just a thought..a random thought just coming and leaving again, like inspiration itself. Coming, leaving but leaving a mark, a trace and then it’s gone.
People standing in front of me, telling me that I’m not alone.
I never said I was alone. I said I was lonely.
It’s just a thought. But maybe, just maybe I have to have a lonely heart to be a good artist.
Maybe that’s the price I have to pay.

Gina Laventura © 2013

Rosie’s Relief or Off her Chest

Get out of my head!
Sometimes she has to write you off her chest. Off her mind.
Sometimes she needs to dance away into the distance.
And sometimes she succeeds in getting you off her mind. For a while.
But no matter how much she’s writing, or how wild she’s dancing, she never gets you off her heart.
Sometimes it’s a relief, when every unspoken word is put down in ink. A created space for her own.
Still you’re there. Somewhere. In the dark distance her dance has bridged.
Every unspoken word written off her chest onto the paper. Her fingertips covered in ink. And while the fingertip is resting in the puddle of ink, the pumping heart produces a beat the fingers can’t resist.
And ink becomes colourful. A million colours pumping under her fingertip, pouring into her. Filling her mind, her chest, her heart.
And a million more stories are to be written. A million more unspoken and spoken words are to be taken down in colours and in ink.
A hundred more dances through the distance. A million more steps through colourful ink.
Written off the chest. Onto paper.
Inscribed with ink and colour. On paper. On heart.
Fixed forever.

Gina Laventura © 2014