Creativity

Cre vi ti ty a

“The most innovative thing is going on a search to your own essence�

Trixie Whitley

Hi, This is me. A file of creative pieces I collected. I see myself as a process. Although the pages may end, the search for inspiration never does.

The creative process started by free writing.

It seems hard, but you just need to let your pen (or keyboard) do the magic.

“There’s no writer’s block for writers whose standards are low enough”

What I learned about free writing is that it reveals deep thoughts and emotions. If you don’t have anyone to talk to, write it on a piece of paper. On the following page you can find some of my freewriting experience.

‘‘free writing’’

Associations As some sort of brain training we were asked to do word association tests.

It is not always as easy as it seems. The idea is to relax and let the words flow.

“There is more than what meets the eye when it comes to associations. Not only are we inlfuenced by what we see. Consiously or unconsiously... Even words are strong influencers. By picking the right words, you can become more influencial yourself.�

Image

As mentioned before. We are not only influenced by what we read. Also by what we see.

Chose the right shape, font, colour to chose your audience.

Every image has its own story

Drawing It’s funny how drawing can help you to become a better writer.

Apparently we use the same brain area for drawing and writing. Not when your tapping on your keyboard. Real writing with a pen or pencil. So we were asked to draw! Loved it.

I always loved drawing. Like writing, drawing is a process that never ends.

One tries to find the perfect curves or words but is never satisfied.

Some of my friends inspire me all the time with their drawings.

These three drawings are by Effie. A real source of inspiration knowing that she never went to drawing classes.

Other inspiring stuff

for once I allow myself to use colour!

Bloggers. Elke De Vilder. Thank you.

Legeeketlenerdt, influencersgedoe, linkslovedlovedlinks and caloriepartie.

You might wonder what these combinations of vowels and syllables mean. In fact they are just some words mixed together both in English and Dutch. So don’t worry if you experienced difficulties reading them.

These four words are subjects that Elke De Vilder, a succesful young blogger from Ghent, likes to write about. I wanted to share this with you because her blog, http://bloggenzegik.be, is so much fun to read.

I took this print screen of a post called “De huidirritatie”, meaning nothing more than “The Rash”. In this post Elke talks about herself discovering a nasty rash in her neck. She always wonders why things are like they are and searches for answers. As we all do in life.

That’s what makes her blog as well as it is. It is a story. People like to hear and read stories. Especially when there are certain actions or feelings involved that feel familiar. Elke doesn’t really pay attention to the correct use of the Dutch language in her blog. Her writing is simple, a little cruel from time to time but most of all it is one hundred percent Elke. It’s unique and that is what makes her blog worth reading.

Creative people with crazy ideas. Thanks Hannes.

Shane Koyczan and his to

Lots of musicians / singer-songwriters /bands Trixie Whitley, John Mayer, Macklemore, The Beatles, Passenger, Lee Griffiths, Black Dub, Josh Pyke, Dire Straits, Damien Rice, Foo Fighters, Ben Howard, David Ryan Harris, City and Colour, Coldplay, Eminem, Gravy and the Biscuits, Jack Johnson, John Legend, Kings of Leon, Led Zeppelin, Louis Armstrong, Mona, Oasis, Pete Murray and so many others.

ouching poetry. You are a genius

Thanks y’all!

Travel “For my part, I travel not to go anywhere, but to go. I travel for travel’s sake. The great affair is to move.”

Robert Louis Stevenson

My fellow “Creativiators”. It was a great experience.

Did you hear that?

Even by walking down the street you can get sudden ideas. Just listen to the people around you. Maybe they can be a bridge to your land of inspiration. These are few things I picked up.

Trixie Whitley – Interview The dream was never to become a singer. That wasn’t it. I think the dream was to be a full on artist. I think the most innovative thing and most meaningful thing in history, in any medium, is to be completely but then also completely yourself. Not going on a search to replicate things but going on a search to your own essence.

Trixie Whitley at concert Vooruit November 10th.

Trixie: The next song is new. I am still working on it but I already wanted your judgement on it. How you feel about it. And how the connection between us feels while playing it. It is called The Shag” Man in crowd: I would “Shag” you.

Trixie: No you won’t brother. If so… I’ll “Shag” your face up.

The man in the crowd never replied to that! t

Me in the fitting room: Shop assistant: Are you doing ok in there?

Me: Sure I’m just switching stuff to find the correct size.

Suddenly the shop assistant opens the curtain while I’m standing half naked followed by an awkward silence.

Shop assistant: I think you look just fine…

Another awkward silence.

Shop assistant: I mean the clothes are a good choice.

Me: Well thank you.. I guess..

In a bar in Sydney: Irish drunkard: Me: Irish drunkard: Me: Irish: Me: Irish drunk: Me:

Hi mate! Are you in for a game (billiards)?

Sure I prefer that to just sit at the bar and stare.

Are you any good?

I’m ok I guess.

Where are you from?

Belgium.

NO WAY! You sound just like me!

I guess we both had too much Irish whiskey

So the real writing begins These are some short stories to start with: Espresso stories “A small cloud of smoke irritates my eyes. She sips amaretto. The red cigarette glow reflects in her staring eyes.

Forced her lips to mine. Rejected.”

“Never did I want to see her again. But I love imagining it. I wouldn’t talk to her though.

But be glad to know she’s doing ok.”

“Sore feet, long beard, maxed visa, empty pockets. I look like a homeless guy.

But never do I feel alone. Backpacking just feels like home.”

Six word storiest “Soaked. Rusty bike chain brakes. Curse.”

“Eyes meet through train window. Warmth.”

Short intermezzo I forgot to tell you guys that I did something I have never done before Last Sunday I went to a concert all by myself. It’s the first time I attended a gig alone.

I was afraid it was not going to be as fun as together with friends. Luckily I was wrong.

Being there alone gave me room to focus and at the same time to relax. I experienced this performance in a different way. I was alone and I expected nobody to know me out there, I could sing out loud together with the audience without being interrupted. It was a great night. Of course the performance itself was outstanding!

Such a blast!

Were I stood Last winter my cell phone started flashing on the side table while I was watching a Discovery Channel programme called Auction Kings. I felt so excited and curious. Deep inside I always felt excited when she called me. Within a second I answered Hayley’s call. Her voice very weak. I could hear her sniff and exhale her cigarette fumes. No doubt she was deeply sad. Without her asking, I decided to visit her. Again. My hands holding the steering wheel very tight.

Singing “Lips of an angel”. This song by Hinder started to reflect our situation more than ever. Being this excited I don’t really focus on the road I’m on. Rain drops, mist and the blinding headlights of the cars that night, made it somehow irresponsible for me to drive. I started smoking again. The dense smoke irritated my eyes. I couldn’t open the window because of the rain. I knew it was bad. But I mean. I had to. Why would she ever pick a non-smoker. I could see her house through the windscreen while the wipers swept away the drops. Thirty more meters and I were back. I pulled the brake lever. The lights in her hallway went on when I stepped towards her front door. She turned the door lock and gave me a subtle smile. Hayley didn’t appear to be as sad as I imagined. In stead she acted like her call never happened. After she clasped her body around mine, we went to her kitchen. Her ashtray started pouring over cigarettes like ivy climbing a wall. She handed me a glass of Jameson. “On the rocks”, she said. Hayley knew I preferred a good scotch to her oversweet amaretto. We both needed something to relax. The first minutes always felt awkward in a way.

What was I doing there? What did she expect of me? I thought I could be more and I tried to act like a grown-up, like a mentally healthy person. Someone who can talk her through her problems. Deeply I just wanted her to accept her feelings towards me. I started to get sick of her lame excuses. Afraid to lose me? That’s just bullshit. After we finished our glasses she asked me wether I would like to watch a movie. It sounded like she needed something to get her more relaxed. Her leather sofa looked like it has been passed on for several decades. Grey and full of wrinkles and some burn marks. Very comfortable though. My arm pulled around her waste as If were her boyfriend. It still didn’t feel like I was. The smell of her Coco Mademoiselle perfume made her even more irresistible. It’s my kryptonite. It made me weak and vulnerable like she putted a spell on me. The movie she picked never drew our attention. We ended up in our own romantic scene. Not sure wether it was a good idea but how could I say no.

The next day I drove back to her place. As if nothing ever happened she asked me how I was doing. Her friend Liv was there too. I guess she never told her about that night. Hayley didn’t make eye contact very often. Now that Liv was around Hayley’s eyes turned away from me all the time. “Matthew! Can you throw me your lighter?” Liv asked me before she even said hi. I never had a good feeling about this girl. I’m usually good with people but it feels like she is hiding something. Like she’s wearing a mask. A fake smile. A bitchy one. After Liv threw back my brand new Zippo, Hayley asked me to help her picking a jacket for tonight. I followed her into her room. Very mature and stylish for being eighteen. The soft carpet beneath my feet felt great. I was jealous about that. In the middle of her room was her king size bed. Dark rosewood and blankets soft as silk. God. I could imagine myself lying there. Waking up next to her and hold her like it was our last day. “Hey Matty. I have to ask you something”. Hayley brought me back to reality.

“I would like you to not talk about yesterday with Liv if that’s okay”. What could I say? If that’s what she wanted, there’s nothing I could change to make her happy. Still it became time for Hayley to decide. I slowly started to realise that I was not going to hold on acting like I was completely satisfied with this situation. Should I stop putting all this effort into her? Should I stop smoking and ask her to quit as well? Should I ask her to drive to my place the next time?

Hayley actually never putted one step into my house. My parents started to worry a bit too. Maybe I was lying when I told them everything is just fine.

That same night. At this cocktail bar in town I ordered two “strawberry fields” and a “long island ice-tea”. The girls were talking nonsense about leather purses and boots. Once in a while the subject changed to handsome guys. Like seriously? What the hell was I doing there? I decided to pick the dart arrows and throw a few games. This way I tried to change my thoughts. Did Hayley really want to forget all about that night? Was it just one night to her? It couldn’t be. She got hurt herself so many times before. I was the one who talked her through. I gave back her self-dignity and I made her go out again. I literally made her walk outside her door and smile towards the world again. When I threw my last dart it bounced back and fell. While I saw its point turning towards the floor I heard a strange male voice talking.

The dart almost touched surface when I turned my head to look who that voice was. The moment I saw Hayley smiling at this guy my last dart crashed like a jet fighter in warzone. It was only a subtle sound but to me it felt like that jet fighter penetrated the roof of the bar we were in. I recognized that look on her face. Her eyes shining but sly like those of a fox. That’s the one look I use when I talk to Hayley.

Liv asked me to come over and introduced me to Bart. I should have thrown that last dart into her face instead of dropping it. She is such a burden to mankind. How could her parents ever love this child? “Hi Matthew, nice to meet you”, Bart said while reaching his hand. I grasped it and squeezed while starring through him like he didn’t exist.

Hayley started talking about how she met Bart a few years ago. He used to be chubby back in the day, but now standing next to me he looks like a giant. At least an NFL football player. After a few minutes there was no need for me to be around anymore. Hayley’s eyes only turned towards me when I tried to interrupt this jackass. After putting down my empty glass harder than I should I stepped to the men’s room. I smacked the door. A loud bang made everybody shiver. I couldn’t care less. The room I was in felt like prison. Dirty white tiles, a humid smell and writing on every wall. When I saw my reflection into that cracked mirror I noticed a tear rolling down my cheek. I was close to explode. These months of faking a strong personality towards Hayley turned into an unbearable weight upon my shoulders.

In one loud scream I smashed the mirror off the wall. I felt the glass cut through my skin but no pain was bigger than the one in my chest. The door slowly opened when Bart his intoxicated face appeared. It was his most dumb decision ever to show up that very moment. My already bruised fist punched his jaw. A nasty fall was next. I heard Hayley scream. But I kept punching. She slapped me in the face when I starred up into her eyes. They changed back to how they used to be when I first met her. Dark blue, afraid, watery like they could start to cry every second. I fell in love with those eyes. I stood up. There was no sound. Everybody was shocked by what I just did to that giant. Such a loser.

So then I finally asked her. There was no way back. “What is it that you want? What is it that makes me not good enough for you?” She couldn’t answer. Even at that point. The point were I collapsed. She was too proud to admit she was afraid to commit. “I’m sorry”. That was her next line. Also her last.

It’s been three years now. Each time I see Hayley in town I doubt. I doubt wether I should go talk to her, wether she would even want to talk to me. She definitely has to be angry with me. The way I decided to cut our bondage. Our indescribable attraction to one another. I feel so naïve. Now that I see her standing, talking to one of her friends, her face is the only thing that’s bright. Like the rest of the world blurred away. She made me forget that I’m standing in the middle of the road.

The horn of a taxi made it clear that I had to move. She heard it as well and turned her head like she felt somebody was watching. Her hair dyed “ombre” and as always her eyes contoured with dark MAC make up. In a hurry I jump on my bike and ride away. I couldn’t handle talking to her right now. It’s clear that I can’t live with or without her. But I guess I’m better of without. It started pouring again. November rain. Saddest period of the year. Completely soaked I stall my bike in the storage room. Cursing to myself. I’m afraid that she might call me. I mean, she hasn’t seen me in years. But maybe Hayley has changed. Maybe she forgot about that night and wanted to give it a new shot. Would she honestly be looking forward to seeing me again? I doubt that. I still feel bad about not sending her a card last year. The moment I read about her dad who had passed away, I felt endlessly sorry for her. Still I was too proud to send her my condolences. I’m such an asshole. I take off my raincoat and walk up the stairs. Suddenly a cold shiver went through my spine as I heard the doorbell. Could it be? Did she follow me all the way here? The bell rang a second time. While opening the front door I feel relieved. A salesman. I tell him that I’m not interested in buying his fancy calendars.

Usually I’m friendly with these guys, but now I’m in a different mood. After going up the stairs, what felt like climbing a mountain, I unlocked my apartment. Walked through the living room and dropped my keys somewhere next to the espresso machine. I know I payed way too much for that designer piece but it looked great into this kitchen. I gently dropped my jacket onto a chair next to the fireplace. I love that cosy warmth. Especially when the rain is hitting against the window. It made me feel safe in a way. When I turned on the television, Auction Kings was on. Such a coincidence. I haven’t watched that programme since it made me think of Hayley. A sudden loud bang makes me scare to death. It came out of my bedroom. The window was left open and luckily it was only the wind that made it smack against the wall. I walk back and go strait to my bathroom to take a hot shower. I guess I deserved to treat myself after such a stressful day. I couldn’t believe my eyes. Shocked. A sharp pain underneath my feet. My mirror splintered all over the floor. I noticed the blood searching its way across the glass. When I realized it was her, a hand tapped on my shoulder. I tried to turn but suddenly everything went black.

A short story by Mats Willockx

Column time It doesn’t always have to be a heavy or depressed lovestory. However. This column is about girls.

Again.

This is for all the careless but ambitious and beautiful women out there. If you think you are one of them. You are probably not. The type of women I’m talking about here is not even aware of the fact they are. But just for this case let me try to explain who they really are. Growing up I met quite a few girls who are careless but ambitious. Also they are very attractive. Let’s call them the it-girl. But how do you spot an it-girl? There are quite a few things you have to know before meeting one. Be warned that after seeing one you’ll be left alone and heartbroken without them giving a shit.You’re in this bar drinking coffee when suddenly you spot this gorgeous looking girl. You just started adding milk to your coffee and spill it all over the place because your eyes got stuck in her direction. This girl is honestly authentic.

Like a real natural beauty. But she doesn’t really know that herself. If she does. She’s not a real it-girl. That’s what I call a bitch. She’s busy reading a book. You walk up to her and see that she’s reading about marketing. So you feel confident and start some small talk about famous marketing gurus like Malcolm Gladwell. She seems to be interested.

And that’s where this romantic story ends. She seems to be interested. I’ll repeat that for you. She seems to be interested. She is not. Let’s face it and be honest with yourself. An it-girl is a predator. Not some Pokémon who wants you to catch her. An it-girl is playing hardball all the time. These type of girls are looking for the most challenging partner ever made. You’ve got to have it all. Not only be smart and good looking. Also you need to be ambitious, have a strong opinion about everything and be able to talk with her about philosophy. Even a mixture of Einstein,

Achilles, Brad Pitt and Freud wouldn’t be good enough. Why is that? Deep inside these it-girls are insecure. I know.

That is the most illogic thought a man could have to deal with. You can fall down on your knees and beg her to believe you’re the one. But that is not the point. She is the most perfectionistic type of girl you have ever met. You don’t only fall in love with her. You admire her for being so smart, ambitious, awesome and good looking because she doesn’t realise she actually is. She is more than just perfection. My advice is to walk away. It-girls have some sort of superpower to make us weak. They make you shiver, sweat and lose common sense. Yes they do sound like drugs and they are as addictive. So from this point you can try to impress her and get rejected like never before or you can pretend to be gay and become her best friend. But that seems to be even more painful in the long run. Again walk away. Maybe take a picture and stalk her but again... Walk away.

December 13th 2013

Margaux Saelens talks. Life after Arteveldehogeschool.

How did your training in communication management at Arteveldehogeschool change your view on life?

I chose to do a Bachelor after Bachelor in International Business Management with specialisation in marketing, because if you want to be in charge of the internal and/or external communiIt made me think in a different way about things cation of a company, I think it’s important such as communication and advertising. Com- to understand other aspects of the company as munication is not just communication; it’s so well. With courses such as Strategy & Entermuch more than that. Last year, communication preneurship, Marketing Management, Account professionals came to talk about the increasing Management, International Communication, importance of e-commerce and social media International Marketing, Human Resources campaigns. Nowadays, we nearly can’t imagine Management and Financial Management, you a world without it. For example, people expect get more insight in how a company is organised all clothing brands to have a webshop and it is and run. considered strange if you can’t buy clothes of a specific brand online. In my opinion it’s a very What was your favourite course at Artevelde? interesting period to explore ‘the world of com- How do you see this course being useful in munication’, because lots of things are changing, everyday life? new trends are arising etc. It’s also remarkable and captivating how fast the mindset of people My favourite course was Integrated Marketing is changing and how they adapt so quickly to Communication, because that was one of the new trends and new communication channels most specific courses in which we learned about such as social media. the idea behind campaigns, communication through different channels, After graduating. Why did you continue studying?

trends in communication etc. Now I think more critically about the communication of companies and whether they tell us each time the same thing or not. I also think about the integration of their communication through various channels and how it could be improved.

The Creative Journal is an independent publication to get you all more exicited about creativity and communication.

The Creative Journal

The most innovative journal in our creative contemporary world.

Movie review

Watching a foreign movie without subtitles can be a real laugh! While watching you can let your imagination do the talking. After watching the introduction of a Japanese movie I decided to give this story a short ending.

In the first scene Jim Lee and Sun Han are running from a medieval samurai gang. Clearly the couple had stolen the Magic Wig of the gang leader.

His name, Nowig Katsumoto. Ten years ago Lee and Han broke into Wiggystan. The unofficial land claimed by Katsumoto. After fighting all the guards they succeeded to cut off the glued-on wig of Katsumoto. Since that day Katsumoto never stopped the search for his Magic Wig. Without it, he feels vulnerable and naked. His partially bald head makes him look like a fool. Also the reflection of the sun makes it hard for him to hide or to sneak closer to Lee and Han. In the Hairy Woods of Wiggystan. Nowig’s gang is closing up behind Lee and Han. Lee never expected these woods to be so dark and difficult to escape from. This maze of dark hairy branches and bushes made their escape feel endless. Han asked wether they couldn’t just search for a hiding place but Lee knew that Katsumoto would find them. As if the woods were a giant replica of his Magic Wig. Lee and Han were trapped. A dead end. Standing at the edge of this deep cliff they had no choice. They had to fight the Nowig’s gang. Shimmery blades were shown when the members of the gang drew their swords. Some of them had claws like the ones of sabre-toothed tigers. Maybe fighting them was not a good idea after all. Han turned his head downwards and had a short look through his legs. The cliff was deep but not impossible to survive. Without warning Lee he jumped at her and pushed her with him into the cliff. Screaming like she knew they were not going to survive. But Han was smarter than that. He took the Magic Wig and held it up high above their heads. Swirling around them like a helicopter it made them land safely like a parachute. This Magic Wig saved their lives. The last bit Han and Lee saw at the top of the cliff was Katsumoto. He sat down on his knees. Desperate and disappointed in his gang. When a man fails to succeed in times of war he knows what’s next. The Hairykiri. Slowly Katsumoto reached for his ponytail. Meanwhile a gang member offered him his sword. A tear rolling down the face of Katsumoto. There is no bigger pain than cutting of your ponytail. Like a swift wind the blade cut through the thick black hair.

The Magic Wig was no longer useful to Katsumoto. Since he lost his pride and ponytail he now was completely bald. His beloved wife Mo Is Tache decided to leave him. She felt ashamed. The Woods of Wiggystan were given back to Japan and the whole Wigcommunity was abandoned to Ghent. A medieval city in Belgium. A place where people still care about facial hair. t

Poetic attempt of poemwriting Poems are not just “trying-to-sound-beautiful-when-reading-texts”.

The content is very important to me. I guess... Although I hardly ever read poems I tried to write one myself.

Even if it were only for the good karma’s sake.

Dependency Concerned, the bartender refuses to refill.

He’s searching for answers, against my will He takes away my dependency Afraid to see my destiny Just let me be and pour it out This is my world without a doubt “rehabilitation” is all I hear but sobering up is my biggest fear

Creativity and Creative Writing has been a great experience.

It’s a course that helped me express my creativity and ability to write interesting content. Different than any other course we were taught to switch off the auto-pilot.

a C e r i v i t yt

Online swipefile on http://issuu.com/matsw/docs/creativity