Site Update: Profile Pageviews, PresetsWhat's NewPageviews Now Include All Profile SectionsWe've updated the way Profile pageviews are counted for deviants and Groups. Many years ago, we expanded the pageview counter to include not just the front page of your Profile, but also the Journals tab and the Prints tab (but not individual Journals or Prints). We mistakenly never expanded the count to other areas of the Profile.The pageview counter now includes pageviews to all sections of your Profile, including:Gallery and Gallery FoldersFavourites and CollectionsOther Profile subpages: Activity, Badges, Daily Deviations, Critiques, Gallery Stats, Polls, WishlistRead more »Presets in deviantART muroAdding filters to images when using
Site Update: Improved CommentsIn our continuous effort to improve the deviantART experience, we're publishing weekly Site Updates to keep members informed and to gather feedback. Below is a list of recent changes to the site, bug fixes, and feedback that was brought up by members in the last Site Update.What's NewIntroducing Improved CommentsWith over 1.5 million comments posted per day, deviantART's commenting system provides the backbone for fostering relationships across the globe. To highlight this vital aspect of community interaction and provide more control around conversations, we’re proud to introduce the ability to Feature, edit, and hide comments.Read more »Change L
Valentine's Day Art Exchange!DIGITAL LOVE IS IN THE AIR!The Valentine Exchange is back! We asked you to create Valentine-themed deviations and submit them to the Valentine Exchange category. Now, it’s time to send your love-filled deviations to your deviantART friends, family, and secret admirers! From February 12th to 19th, the “Send a Valentine” button has been activated on deviation pages for deviations in the Valentine Exchange category, so you can send your custom creations and valentines made by others. Love is in the air!CREATE THE LOVECreate Valentine-themed deviations and submit them to the
Obligatory Bird PoemThis poem is about birds or perhapsabout flying as this is what bird poemscome to and I have not written a birdpoem yet. It is a sparrow at first, smallcold and self-conscious, pecking at breadcrumbs on streets which may well be snowcovered with how they are not recognizableand this is like standing at Gare de l'Estwatching transit and transit go by and byand not knowing what even one signmight say. Trains are less fun when you'rewatching them go, and this is no longera bird poem, which is why I don't writebird poems.I am not in transit the way a bird is, and watchingbirds in transit is intrusive, the way watchingpeople on trains is intrusive. Everyoneon a train is lost until they arrive, even whenthey know where they are going and howthey are getting there; until they arrivecan they guarantee that they'll get there? Thisis what being a bird is like, going everywherewithout knowing anywhere, one unexpectedturn away from running headlong into a mirrorwith someone
Alexander the GreatThis sea's arms are not enough alone,spread wide and wider, spanning outbeyond my reach, to that westernedge where men go to their ends. I,left the familiar world in my left hand,not old nor bold enough to challengethe killing sea I know, am quiet, pensive.Met by red earth, led by bright star, the childApollo rising bright and red, alive, each dayI wake, pensive, quiet. To find that place,the spring of life from which Apollo leaps,that is my goal. Guided by the freeright hand, I will charge east, ever onuntil I find that eternal ocean, the counterto this infinite sea of end belongingto my father, his forefathers, and the dyingworld in my left hand. I shall becomethe red sun child, always bright, alive.
Sanctuary Bringing homework to absent nerds wasn’t Will Oxman’s style. He had a reputation to keep. But despite his complaints and arguments against the biology teacher that he and Thornton Wilson shared, he couldn’t deny that he lived the closest. Following that failed conversation, Will decided to accidentally forget to stop by Thornton’s house. He let slip at lunch that he was going to accidentally forget, and was met with approval and a small sense of reassurance. The Ox, as he was known to the football team, wasn’t a delivery boy for a nerd. Four hours later, Will stood—somewhat awkwardly—outside the Wilson house, fist hovering between his chest and the large wooden door. He’d mentioned the homework over dinner, at which point his mother stared him down.
Sun WukongI am rock-heavy, quiet, half-minded, world-strong. The sun burstswith my light, not the other way round.This sky's my breath, this earthmy monkey fist. Past that, feet, myfeet, become what they scrape, and thatin turn becomes mine. The starspale to my fire-eyes, my golden sight,I can strong-arm the cosmos. You won'tchange these things, same as a five-pillarcage could not. Mountains can't hold mepast five hundred years, and I'll playtricks, even after. This adventuremakes us, not you, not me. Today, I amrock-heavy, quiet, world-strong, andempty, and this is defined through you.
3 in the AfternoonHappiness is when the door clicks shutat 3 in the afternoon and sunlightstalks in uninvited through the blinds,making a sepia mess of the room, and youare waiting, waiting, waiting, waitingin the sunken sofa cushion like a lostnickel looking to be found. The truth isyou found me, standing just insidethe doorway like a stray animal broughthome for the first time, imbalancedragged and confused. I stumbled on myselfthat first time, making more contactwith the floor, tables and walls than Idid with you. In some respects, thathasn't changed. I trip on my feet,walk into walls and door frames still,but every now and then I bump into youand remember what makes this home, whatmakes you home.