From the Editor

My dear friend is a gifted digital artist. After many conversations on aesthetics and the place of art, I looked forward to seeing his studio. When I finally did, I was shocked to find that not one wall in his place had any art on it. "Perhaps he's too busy, " I thought. "He hasn't made up his mind yet." In this day and age, I wonder if he can't at least go buy some preframed work from Target or art.com?

After seeing bare walls many more times, I venture for an explanation. He muses, "I keep the walls bare intentionally. It drives me to want to create. After staring at blank walls for long enough, you know exactly what needs to be on that wall for you to be satistfied. And then, only when I feel an absolute need, do I create."

Creative writing is not visual art, yet there is some similarity of purpose to be gathered. If a writer pays proper respect to the task at hand, then their art can be more sublime and urgent. I have found writers of many stripes. Some like to hone their craft through regular practice. Some like to write in crowded spaces. Some like to gather every thing up in their head and then set off at a burst.

These days, we are inundated with art. There's something for everyone. Pop art, commercial art, spoof art, industrial art, native art, museum art, ethnic art. But if the increase in selection has made you feel that your voice is not worth hearing, then you are certainly doing everyone a disservice. Everyone has a voice. Everyone can create art. Creating something new is a radical act, especially in the face of such an establishment of artwork. This month Subjective Substance features poems by writers who continue to write and create poems for themselves. .

Omar Azam