My name is Erik Mallinson. I draw pictures, make music, and some other stuff. I like playing the ‘ukulele, riding my scooter around Boston, and playing board games.
Follow me on Twitter (@erima) if you’re into that sort of thing.
You might also check out my illustration and music studio (@gravel).
Got a question? Ask.
Aug21
Eventually I discovered for myself the utterly simple prescription for creativity: Be intensely yourself. Don’t try to be outstanding; don’t try to be a success; don’t try to do pictures for others to look at - just please yourself.
Aug16
You can’t really succeed at what you love, do what you care about, without embracing it.
Aug13
The video from the quote I reblogged earlier. Worth watching.
Aug12
The task of art is to transform what is continuously happening to us, to transform all these things into symbols, into music, into something which can last in man’s memory. That is our duty. If we don’t fulfill it, we feel unhappy. A writer or any artist has the sometimes joyful duty to transform all that into symbols. These symbols could be colors, forms or sounds. For a poet, the symbols are sounds and also words, fables, stories, poetry. The work of a poet never ends. It has nothing to do with working hours. Your are continuously receiving things from the external world. These must be transformed, and eventually will be transformed. This revelation can appear anytime. A poet never rests. He’s always working, even when he dreams. Besides, the life of a writer, is a lonely one. You think you are alone, and as the years go by, if the stars are on your side, you may discover that you are at the center of a vast circle of invisible friends whom you will never get to know but who love you. And that is an immense reward.
Feb6
Oh, man. I wish my parents were as interested in my art, or the rest of my life, as the person in this video.
This is the first episode How to Explain it to My Parents, a documentary series in which 9 abstract artists explain to their mom and dad what their work is all about.
Here, Arno Coenen describes his work to his father and makes me realize that life never changes. While it’s an interesting exercise to try to explain your abstract art to your father, this conversation really boils down to hurt feelings at his father not coming to his exhibition. I guess we’re all in Little League till we die, hoping our parents make it to the game in time to see our big homerun.
