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Author: brookeshaden

“Withering Resonance”, An Experimental Video

“Withering Resonance”, An Experimental Video

As many of you know, my background is in filmmaking. I have college degrees in English literature and film. Though I learned a lot about filmmaking in college, I also learned that I don’t have the passion to make films. I want to create movies and am particularly drawn to short, experimental type pictures, but my heart is not in the process that it takes to make a film. Truth be told, I want to work by myself. I don’t thrive…

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Letting The Robot Take Over

Letting The Robot Take Over

I have a question that I very genuinely want to know the answer to. Do you, as an artist, feel that you keep some thoughts hidden from those closest to you? I ask for this reason: my friends are always telling me that they never hear my inner-thoughts until I write them in a blog post. I don’t like to share my feelings, emotions or musings with anyone. I can’t put my finger on why that is, precisely. It could…

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#FailureFriday: Creating Despite

#FailureFriday: Creating Despite

Today’s honest and vulnerable #FailureFriday comes from a story I wanted to share. Some of you may of seen it on my Instagram story last Sunday. As many of you know I have anxiety, particularly social anxiety. It causes me grief sometimes, but I have been proud of how well I keep it under control most of the time. Last Saturday night I let it overcome me, and I had a rough Sunday morning. I was in Palm Springs for…

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Creating “Contact”

Creating “Contact”

Yesterday I started editing some images I had shot a few weeks back with no notion of if they would work out or not. I pulled old stock images I had taken years ago combined with one that I purchased online as well and started playing. My friend Dave Junion is always telling me to play in my craft. It is too easy to be too serious. We put such pressure on ourselves to create something good that we lose sight…

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Rough Waters

Rough Waters

I am so worried all the time that I will never again create something that is meaningful to me. I spend days thinking and thinking, hours staring at blank walls. My husband walks into my office as I’m sat in the middle of my floor, staring. He backs out slowly. There is nothing to say to me. I am within myself, brooding. I travel through Brazil and teach workshops. At some points I feel like a fraud. I teach, but…

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