#Creativeexpression

[elegantpersoncreation]

AI.image.video.music...

[jaggedjawjosh]

“I embrace my resilience and muster the courage to turn each challenge into a stepping stone toward my dreams.”

[preposterousprophetess]

~ Official Writeblr Intro ~

Hi everyone!

My name is Liv, I’m a university student studying Political Science and Women, Gender, and Sexuality Studies.

I haven’t been on tumblr since my parents blocked it on our WiFi router in 2018.

I’m diving back into creative writing after being immersed in academia for far too long. I have a cat named Enya who is my world, and I love reading as many sci-fi, horror, and magical realism books as I can cram into my brain.

I’d love to connect with this community and make some friends! I’d love to share and chat about our creative writing :)

My DMs are always open!

[designmantic]

Fonts speak louder than words!

If your emotions were a typeface, which one would they be?

Let’s hear your creative picks in the comments!

[fortal12]

Beneath every bloom, a wound softly hums—

not all beauty wants to be seen.

[spencersk]

Sometimes the studio isn’t where the artist goes but where the artist is. Some open creativity time spent day dreaming at the beach in photos.

[yashmetova]

I've created a piece titled "Transcendence," where ferocity meets grace against an ethereal blue backdrop. The vibrant reds and golds pulse with life, capturing a moment of dynamic flight between humanity and nature. Join me in contemplating our journey through the cosmos. 🎨✨

[furiousbabibel]

[artbyklaudia]

My mural in the village of Kotków in Poland is a bit autumnal and folkloric 🍁🍄🏵️🍄

(⁠◠⁠‿⁠・⁠)⁠—⁠☆

Ig

https://www.instagram.com/klaudiarutkowska/profilecard/?igsh=dmV4NDFpbnhzd3Y5

#NatureInspiredArt #MuralArt #StreetArt #OutdoorMural #UrbanArt #CreativeExpression #ArtInPublicSpaces #WallMural #ArtAndNature #CityArt #MuralistWork #CommunityArt #ArtThatInspires #MuralPainting

[muridaenoctis]

Bunny Clown

With this makeup, I feel like my true self—like this is how I’m meant to look. It’s not just a style; it represents who I want to be. 🎭✨🐰

[jaggedjawjosh]

I am the architect of my resilience, and each setback is a stepping stone, crafting the path to my success.

[preposterousprophetess]

First real writing post!!! I’d love any feedback or constructive criticism, I wrote this for a creative nonfiction writing class and I would love to hear people’s thoughts. It’s mainly me dealing with my complicated feelings around my childhood and how I’m processing things now.

The Walls Are Watching

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The second yellow house on Conner Court is a castle. These thick walls protect me from swooshing, swaying winds that storm through the shadowy valley my family calls home. A canvas teepee sits in a forest clearing to the west of the castle, and the imaginary smells from its unlit cobbled-together campfire float across the grassy backyard. This wild yard – brimming with insect life, budding native flowers, and small rodents – is where I adventure for treasure, magic weapons, the antidote to my poisons. In the wintertime, the top layer of the snow has melted and refrozen strong enough to hold me up, and I dance in the backyard with the lightness of a fairy.

There is magic within these walls, the kind that permeates every corner of the house, and filling the space with a sense of safety and security. This magic shows itself through the feeling of sinking into the cushiony velvet of my parent's living room couch, sleep pulling me under, and waking to the smell of warm bread fresh from the oven. It shows itself when my skin sticks to the pleather of the large red bean bag in the bay window, bathing myself in the summer sun whilst snuggling in a blanket. Again, in the high-pitched squeaks of our guinea pigs – from their large cage that took up a fourth of our living room – when my mom opened the veggie drawer. Once more in the crisp, fresh taste of well water from our house in the forest. Once again, through the howling winds of the valley soaring through the screens in our windows and the rustling leaves of the birch trees outside.

✤ ✤ ✤

The second yellow house on Conner Court is a fortress, and its walls stand tall to both contain and keep out. The walls watch as my siblings and I carefully tip-toe around the house, closing doors ever so gently, making sure our music doesn't raise to a volume that is noticeable. They watch as my father berates his eldest daughter for, well, being a teenage girl. They watch on as his words slowly break her down over time, as she wilts and rebels, as he spats bible quotes in her face as an excuse for his wrath. They watch as I attempt to mediate, hoping for just one day we could have family time that didn't feel like we were being taken hostage. They watch as I turn the lock of my bedroom door, hoping it isn't my room he comes to first when he gets home from work, hoping I don't have to deal with the poison he spits.

I often wonder what the walls think about my father; what would they whisper to a listening ear? Would they remember the turn of events as I do? Would they be confused that I still love him? That I continue to visit home despite everything he has done? I wonder if they could tell me if he's actually changed.

✤ ✤ ✤

The second yellow house on Conner Court is as familiar as it is alien now. On that hot August day I packed my parents' Expedition up with all the belongings that I thought could be considered mine; I sensed a growing hollow in my heart; a small abrasion wounded the safety I felt in familiarity. The wound has since scabbed over, but there are still days I long to be back behind those walls. Despite my previous eagerness to run as far away as possible from them, I find myself being called back. When I visit, though, it is not the same. Of course, it is the same house it has always been, the same orange vinyl wooden floors in the kitchen, the same sad-beige mid-2000s carpet that has been stained from all kinds of paint, the same glossy black fridge that hasn't had a working ice/water dispenser in over a decade, the same eggplant purple front door. In many of the ways that matter, though, it's not. The walls I was raised in now wear unfamiliar paintings and decor, their eyes boring holes through me as if I'm intruding into their carefully crafted space. The large, retro brown couches have been replaced by angular, modern grey sofas; the TV is as thin as paper and as large as an at-home movie theater; the dishes I grew up with have all broken by now. I no longer know where they keep the kitchen trash can or which closet houses extra towels. The items I forgot to pack when I left for college sit in boxes with my name scrawled in black Sharpie. The landline we used to share has been disconnected for years. The magic I once knew sputtered out. The walls no longer recognize me.

[byzahraartz]

‧₊˚ ⏾. ⋅ Welcome to DIYvinci, where creativity meets self-discovery! ‧₊˚ ⏾. ⋅

‧₊˚ ⏾. ⋅We believe making is just the beginning – it's about reconnecting with your passions & finding what makes you, YOU!

❀ Enhance Well-Being ── .✦ Relieve stress and rediscover your true self.

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❀ Find Your People ── .✦ Connect with a supportive, like-minded community.

It starts here at ⁀➴༯

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*

[fixquotes]

"Some people like to paint trees. I like to paint love. I find it more meaningful than painting trees"

- Robert Indiana

[freshthoughts2020]

Unreleased WLCM tee, commemorating the 20th anniversary of the legendary handheld RPG! Now available for purchase