In today’s art world, many fall into the trap of believing that self-expression alone is enough to grow. But mastery isn’t cultivated in isolation—it thrives on challenge, tradition, and real effort. This post explores the dangers of complacency, instant gratification, and the rejection of artistic foundations, revealing why true growth demands more than just creativity—it requires commitment to...
Talent is often seen as the key to artistic success, but the truth is far simpler—mastery is built through effort, discipline, and deliberate practice. Art isn’t a gift; it’s a craft that anyone can develop with persistence. This post dismantles the myth of innate talent and explores how skill, not luck, shapes great artists.
Art is more than an image—it’s the story of effort, struggle, and mastery. As machines threaten to replace the creative process with automation, we must ask: What do we lose when art is stripped of its human soul? This post explores why true artistry cannot be replicated by algorithms and why preserving the human touch in art is essential to our shared story.
Sometimes, life delivers a message in the most unexpected way. At Salt Lake City’s Hogle Zoo, a father watches an elephant struggle, learn, and ultimately share a revelation that changes everything. But did he really hear what he thinks he heard? This surreal short story explores the weight of unexpected wisdom—and the moment it demands action.
A simple act of generosity spirals into doubt, frustration, and an unsettling confrontation. As one man wrestles with his own sense of morality, he begins to question whether his kindness was ever kindness at all.
A bus stop somewhere in Northern Utah. It’s nearly eight o’clock in the evening and the summer sun is just now realizing that it has overstayed its welcome. A woman, about fifty years old, sits on the bench, scratching her newly styled hair. It’s short, curly, and dyed the color of old blood. A man, who can’t be younger than seventy, shuffles breathlessly to the bench and lowers himself beside...
Think fast, Destiny. He can’t be more than a hundred feet away. I could keep the rifle and try to force him to take me to a hospital. But I don’t know how to use a gun; I don’t even know how to hold a gun. Even if I managed to shoot him before he came into the tent, I’d be killing my ticket off this mountain. I push the rifle back into its clips on the bottom of the chest. Still, I need to...
When my bedroom door is securely locked, I rush to my desk, push my MacBook Air aside, and lift the heavy Olympia onto the desktop. It was considered a “portable” typewriter in 1957, but hulking next to my laptop, it looks about as portable as my desk. That’s okay. I don’t need it to be portable; I just need it to work. Just outside my bedroom door, I hear the joyful shrieks of three children as...
This can’t, like, really be happening to me. What have I done to deserve this? It’s been hard enough just trying to get through middle-school with nobody liking me, but at least there was always the hope that high school and college might help people forget how much they enjoyed looking down on me and calling me names. If they find out about this, about me, they’ll have an actual reason for...
The following is my response to today’s Daily Writing Prompt: “A bobblehead collector is talked out of suicide by a member of his collection.” Saul burst into his home office and slammed the door so hard that all of the bobbleheads, occupying the nine shelves of the three bookcases lining the wall opposite of his desk, began wagging their heads. Although he was no longer crying, his labored...
