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Hello everyone! :wave:

I've been wanting to do this for some time, but I never really got around to really doing it. You see, through my work for groups (ProjectComment especially, go visit that group, it's an amazing place) and random browsing of deviantArt I've come across some really talented artistst who definitely don't get the attention they deserve. Now I know that not that many people will see this, but I feel that maybe it can make a small difference.

So, what's all this about, then? Well, I'll continue my "Watchers Feature" series, but at the beginning of each month I'll feature underapprechiated arists (who are not amongst my watchers) instead. So it's SF (special feature, not sure how to name it yet), WF, WF, WF from now on every month.

With that said, here's the "Special Feature" for December!

:bulletblue: :iconmmwoodcock:
I really don't understand why she hardly gets feedback, she is a great digital artist and dabbles in other mediums as well. She even has tutorials, you should got check those out, too!

Tentou Mushi- Text Free by MMWoodcock Anzelle by MMWoodcock Octosapien by MMWoodcock White Tiger by MMWoodcock Pearl, Bubble, and Gem Tutorial by MMWoodcock  

:bulletblue: :iconthemichaelmacrae:
What really surprises me is that his more than 1000 (!!) watchers are mostly inactive, for he too gets hardly comments. That's just sad, because he's an amazing digital artist!

A lapse of Memory by TheMichaelMacRae Flight by TheMichaelMacRae This is Our Funeral March by TheMichaelMacRae malevolence by TheMichaelMacRae This Is Not My Dream by TheMichaelMacRae

:bulletblue: :icontreo-legigeo:
Now, I'm someone who prefers poetry to prose most of the time, but this deviant's works really captivated me (she has poetry as well, but you know, those short stories of hers are awesome). Do take the time and read through some of her works, it'll be worth your time!

Second Street       El stands under muted chrome lights, legs splayed apart and left hip cocked out like the jagged end of a lipstick smear. The soft undercurrent of voices drifts from the club crowd up to the stage, quiet murmured conversations below the chink of glasses and clicks of the mike stand slotting into place. If she listens close enough she can almost hear the bare echoes of a young man's laugh, a woman's soft tinkling sigh, the swell of a family's conversation.
       "All ready," the man before her grunts around the toothpick hanging out the corner of his sun-cracked mouth. El reaches a hand over to tug at the length of color-faded silk knotted around her left wrist, stepping forward to take the place he vacates. The same hand rises to wrap around the cold silver shaft, glossed lips parting as she ghosts them towards the microphone.
       The crowd has dropped in volume, calm falling over the haphazardly arranged three-legged stools and half-rickety tables. It's a quiet she's felt
One More Drink"You want to get a drink?"
Six words. Six little words casually spoken by an innocent man without any idea of their implications.
"You want to get a drink?"
It was only a reunion with an old friend; it was not supposed to become a battlefield. One moment I'm strolling down the street chatting light-heartedly with a mate from school, the next my world is threatening to crash down around me.
"You want to get a drink?"
To him it may mean nothing but a simple boy's night out, but to me it means much, much more.
"You want to get a drink?"
Anxiety, depression, obsession, not caring what I did, who I hurt, how much I lost as long it got me a pint. Bystanders attacked and robbed when cash ran low, barmen beaten and stabbed after refusing to give any more, and every last cent, possession, and shred of dignity sacrificed.
"You want to get a drink?"
Often I woke in pain, sometimes in strange places with no memory of how I got there, sometimes in
Russian RouletteThey take her on her honeymoon.
The wedding was lovely, or as lovely as it could have been with a couple that were more polite acquaintances than anything else and two sets of in-laws as stuffy as a dusty pile of money. They grab her when she sneaks out for a walk one night, two men, beefy, not even bothered to arm themselves. Her last thought before the bag is shoved over her eyes is to wonder how much this would ruin her parents' plans.
She comes to in a small brick room on a sallow mattress, windowless and lit by a cool yellow lamp. There's a man there, standing just outside the barred door.
"Kelly Shale," he says, voice nasally, greasy greying hair half-covering his forehead. She's not sure if it's a question or a statement.
She counts the days by watching the guards—one on day shift, one on night. They're probably the same men who took her, but they stay too much out of her field of vision to really tell. It takes until the third day for the woman to come.
'Meil,' they call h
UsEvery face has an eye, every eye has a sight,
To seek and know, what is wrong and right.
Every sight has a vision, every vision has a dream.
And every dream has a future, to find, to fight.
Every face has an ear, every ear hears a tale,
Of good and bad, success or fail.
Every tale has an end, every end has a hope,
And every hope can live no matter fire or hail.
Every face has a heart, every heart has a soul,
To lead the world to that one last goal.
Every soul has a voice, to speak and to trust,
And every voice, is one of us.
The PianistA warm, lilting melody wafted through the nightclub, nimble fingers dancing over crisp black and white keys as the song of the grand piano drifted down from the stage, filtering between the irregularly spaced tables to fill every niche and recess of the dimly lit room. The lone figure in the spotlight moved gently with the music, her long chestnut hair billowing down her back in loose waves and her wine red dress fanning out around her knees as she sat on the worn leather stool. It was not a complex song she played, with no difficult notes or intricate rhythms, but there was something about it that was so enthralling, so entrancing, as if each sound touched you, clung to you, whispered to you.
As the tune swelled, as the notes danced, and as music came alive beneath her fingers, the pianist began to remember.
She met him at a cheap, backwater club on a cool autumn evening while playing yet another of those low paid unambitious jobs that she hated but needed to make ends meet. While

That's it! If you have suggestions for the next feature, by all means, note me or comment on this journal!

And before I forget it:
Interested in improving the quality of your comments? Or you want to help someone improve their comments? Check out ProjectComment's Mentoring Project! Sign Up and Information, Structure
:iconprojectcomment: is the place for getting constructive comments too, by the way :)

Have a nice week! :)
  • Mood: dA Love
  • Watching: NCIS
  • Playing: Pokémon Black 2
  • Eating: soup
  • Drinking: berry tea
Add a Comment:
Astrikos Featured By Owner Dec 5, 2012   General Artist
:la: Lovely feature!
Riemea Featured By Owner Dec 5, 2012  Hobbyist General Artist
Thank you! :huggle:
Astrikos Featured By Owner Dec 5, 2012   General Artist
Astralseed Featured By Owner Dec 4, 2012  Professional General Artist
Great feature!
Riemea Featured By Owner Dec 5, 2012  Hobbyist General Artist
Thanks a lot! :)
NotenSMSK Featured By Owner Dec 3, 2012  Hobbyist Writer
This was quite a wonderful feature :D I am unable to look at much digital art ^^; but I will surely look into the literature!
Riemea Featured By Owner Dec 5, 2012  Hobbyist General Artist
Thank you very much! =Treo-LeGigeo will apprechiate it, I'm sure :)
NotenSMSK Featured By Owner Dec 15, 2012  Hobbyist Writer
Well added his works to my list :happybounce: will look at them when I can :D
Riemea Featured By Owner Dec 16, 2012  Hobbyist General Artist
Thanks a lot :)
NotenSMSK Featured By Owner Dec 16, 2012  Hobbyist Writer
You are welcome ^^
Riemea Featured By Owner Dec 17, 2012  Hobbyist General Artist
Add a Comment:

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Submitted on
December 3, 2012