Words by Veronica Mike Solheim
CD & Editor-in-Chief
There is nothing more sexy and fun than young love. The passion, lust, curiosity, hopes and dreams. The first kiss, the first night together, getting to know each other one question at a time. Nothing beats falling in love, really. But after that, love and relationships need to be nurtured. You need to communicate with each other, be patient, kind, observant, giving—to preserve your feelings for each other, to constantly remind the other person why they fell in love with you in the first place. And when times get tough (and they always do), you have to grab the issue by the balls and do your best to fix it. After all, true love is worth fighting for.
Lately I’ve spent so much time thinking and talking about the good old days, and how much I miss them. I remember the time when I was a twenty-one-year old art direction student and ridiculously hopeful about all aspects of life, especially work. I was a dreamer, my mind flourished with ideas. I felt as if the day didn’t have enough hours for all the things I wanted to explore and create. My nights were spent writing, editing, coding and doing everything else I wanted to learn. All my fellow students felt the same, it was all we ever talked about; heated conversations over wine about our favourite movie directors, which books had changed our lives, artists, music, inspiring places to work, notebooks etc etc. We all agreed on the fact that we simply couldn’t function without creativity—it was all we were, all we wanted to be.
What I remember the most is how inspired I was. As soon as I had some time off from school, I would grab a notebook, go straight down to a busy (but not too busy) café and work, or at least pretend I was working. It was something about the idea of being a young creative that really had me going. As if the act—oh, hello, I’m just a modern, young woman with a nose ring and a messy notebook, writing a novel at a busy cafe in downtown Oslo—was the goal itself. Nothing that I wrote or created back then really became anything (compared to now), but oh boy, I was productive. And hungry. And happy. I was head over heels in love.
Jump ahead a couple of years (four, to be exact), and everything has changed. The heated conversations have faded, or at least become boring. Instead of dreams, we now talk about our frustration over tough clients, lost pitches, long hours, the lack of motivation, self-doubting etc. etc. Because along came life. And instead of nurturing ourselves, our dreams and ambitions, we’re too busy working. No wonder the passion is fading away.
So here I am, on a date with my creative self. I’m back at one of my favourite spots—a quite small, but charming café, at a busy street corner at Grunerløkka in Oslo. I managed to get the best seat too: a small table in the back corner, my back against the wall, my right side facing a floor-to-ceiling window. It’s Friday and people are passing by with a mission—I picture them going to dinners, parties, exhibitions, anywhere really. I order black coffee, a croissant, I listen to Yann Tiersen’s new album, EUMA. And just before the shame of being such a god damn cliché gets too hard to handle, I start writing. And I continue to write for four hours straight.
So, if the comparison isn’t clear to you yet: Our relationship to work and our creative selves are just like any other relationship. But, since this is a one-man-show kind of love, if you don’t bring the sparkle, no one will.
Be the giver, make some love.