*Photo courtesy of Josh Heller
Chapter Four: Darkest Imperfection.
I can feel my grip getting stronger, he said as he poured himself another drink. It’s so hard not to set the pencil down. Trying to write out everything I’m feeling, all the emotion, the pain of the dream and trying to hold onto all the pieces of the puzzle. I mean what I’m going for is the creation of a masterpiece, that’s all I want. I want something that drips with my sweat and blood, that actually makes people feel something, anything. I don’t even care if they love it or hate it, I just want them to feel something. The world makes us so fucking numb nowadays, with all these societal standards that we have to measure up to, that completely go against the basis of creativity. It’s all bullshit really. I want to make the rules, I want to be the one that sets the standards, that narrates the story of my own life, that dictates every chapter. I want to make all the rules so that I can break them all. If you think about it, diamonds are made by heating up the world’s darkest imperfection, and making it burn until it shines. And that’s when everyone wants it, once it’s all finished and perfect but no one gives a shit about the battle that came before it. That’s what bothers me, I’m here writing, drawing, living, building and thinking until the soul in my fingertips turns to blood and all of that will be set aside the second I’m done. I mean I know that the journey only exists for me, but the beautiful side of art is the process before the final touch and that’s always forgotten. I’m just here to create, and as much as I want it to change the world I’ll never truly know if it does until the day I stop thinking about it. Don’t get me wrong, this isn’t in any way one of my whiskey-soaked diatribes where I bluntly tear apart society’s bullshit. It’s just that lately I’ve been feeling. Feeling things that I usually don’t and this love-hate relationship that I’m juggling is getting exhausting. I’m just looking for an answer, or at least the inspiration for an answer. Anything, I just want something. And what if you already have it? She said.
I want to make the rules, I want to be the one that sets the standards, that narrates the story of my own life, that dictates every chapter. I want to make all the rules so that I can break them all.
*Photos courtesy of William Callan
Pre-shoot x pre-game.
*Photo courtesy of Dirk Mai.
“Under the bridge downtown is where I drew some blood.”
*Photo courtesy of William Callan
Chapter Three: Upside Down Black Heart.
This experiment is panning out slowly, he said. And believe it or not, it’s actually working. It’s true when they say that you can be anything you want to be. No but really, nothing matters if you think about it, nothing at all aside from your willpower to tear apart anything that gets in your way. I’m not trying to sound like any sort of write-in-my-calendar-quote bullshit fortune cookie just to seem smart, it’s just insane how the right mix of ingredients can create anything. Anything in the world. So, who are you anyway? He asked as he poured himself another drink. That doesn’t matter, she said. Not for now. Just focus on the goal, straighten the arrows, tighten the ends, and make sure that they’re all pointing to one thing, and one thing only. Don’t get distracted. Drain out all of the noise from your life and focus on what you’re trying to tell the world. You’re on a mission, fighting a battle, filtering out all the useless shit and making all the mistakes so that you can tell the rights from the wrongs. Remember that you’re the author of this story, you’re the one writing the beginning and deciding how it ends. You’re onto something extraordinary and you don’t even know it yet. Just never forget to be yourself throughout every move, focus on you and what you truly are and not what you wish you were. Keep that heart by your side, keep it upside down, and keep it black.