ProjectComment is a project that features the generally obscured and underappreciated artists and their art in regular news articles. Our objective is to recognise deviants who deserve more recognition and to feature deviations with less than 10 original comments.

The 0-5 Comments Issues feature a deviant as well as 3 deviations with less than 5 original comments from a wide selection of art. Please give your time to this article and to write constructive comments so that you make a true difference to the artists featured here.

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Featured Deviations

Digital Art
^{~featured by FallenUmbrella}
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Photography
^{~featured by Tyyourshoes, parAzZZz and ProjectComment}  
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Traditional Art
^{~featured by Jenniej92}
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Artisan Crafts
^{~featured by xblackxbloodxcellx}
:thumb183644694: :thumb183680006:

Designs & Interfaces
^{~featured by xblackxbloodxcellx}


Literature – Prose
^{~featured by ProjectComment}
Let's Name Her LibertyAlfred could always tell when it was winter. For instance, the air grew colder. That was the most obvious. No, it was the fact that he came home on that brittle November 1st afternoon to a cup of tea sitting on the counter. He smiled, shaking his head slightly and continuing on towards the living room of the apartment. On the rug in the middle of the room sat the Briton, his head bent over in such a position that caused the American to question it.
"…Arthur?" A faint humming could be heard from the other side of the Englishman, and Arthur's movements seemed so timed and precise. "What are you doing?"
The blonde looked up, his brows furrowing. "It's a cat, Alfred. I found her outside on my way home, and God knows I couldn't leave her in the cold air alone." A silent meow could be heard from the Brit's lap, and a fur tail flopped about.
Alfred frowned, placing his hands on his hips. "A cat? Arthur…" He took the few steps needed before leaning beside the man, able to see the ani Sweet DreamsShe still tossed and turned without waking. Sweat beaded upon her brow and I was tempted to reach out and wipe it away. But would she even feel the touch? I didn't know, so I stayed away. I was afraid to get close to her, despite the strange pain in my chest...
Her face turned in a slight frown. She didn't look happy at all. I stood in the back corner by the window, avoiding being too close. "What are you dreaming of?" I whispered beneath my breath, hardly audible.
She whimpered. I winced, and stepped a bit closer without thinking. "What's wrong?"
The room was dark and shadows hid in every little nook and cranny. I could just barely make out the outlines of furniture along the wall. There was a faint sliver of light coming from beneath the door from the small light out in the hall. I looked back to the bed where she lay, twisting yet again. Another whimper, a half-muted yelp.
"Shhh..." I stared at my hand, hovering just over her forehead. I didn't remember moving. Outside, a cloud move Day Three: 8 Ways To My Hearti. Be yourself
I tend to fall in love with real people, with people who don't try to hide their flaws, but instead embrace them. I want to know who you really are, I want the truth and not some fixed-up version of yourself that you thought I wanted to see. I want to see you. I'll find your heart beautiful because it's not covered up. (I can't say it's as wonderful as it is if I can't see it, can I?) I can't fall for a fake, an actor, a hollow model of who you wished to be. I want a real person, can you show me him?
ii. Be confident
... Even when you're not. (But it's okay, you can be honest and say you're not). I like people who are free with themselves, who are willing to break the social boundaries and just be whoever they want to be. Someone who'll yell "Happy Friday!" in a dead-silent room or who'll follow their whims once in a while. There's nothing like a confident smile and strong handshake and steady words to make someone feel safe and at home with you. It

Literature – Poetry
^{~featured by ProjectComment}
:thumb184867531: Fake GrinShe threw away her heart,
Put a fake grin on her face,
And just let him rip her apart.
Love...
She didn't believe in it anymore...
In a list of horrors she would describe all of the above.
He had broken her,
Scraped down to the bottom of her soul,
He was her torture.
She'd grin to please him,
She'd scream to urge him...
She'd force herself to give in.
She had loved him with no remorse,
But now she threw that away...
She just let the pain take its course.
He wanted to have "fun"
So she let him want more...
Because she couldn't just escape and run.
She had given him her heart...
He returned it all beaten and bruised...
I guess it was a game from the start.
Her tears she wiped away,
It wasn't a time to cry...
It was a time to play.
So she threw away her heart,
Put a fake grin on her face
And waited for the game to start.

Cartoons & Comics
^{~featured by ChaoticSkye, Jenniej92 and Anjellyjoy}
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Manga/Anime
^{~featured by ProjectComment}
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Fan Art
^{~featured by ProjectComment}
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Featured Deviant

DedicationDedication
To the kid with all the smiles,
Look at me and laugh, really this time, just a little.
To the amazing girl with brown curls,
I can never tell you how I feel, out of fear.
To the boy with the puzzled heart,
We are one in the same, you and I.
To my mother,
You are the reason I exist and for that I thank you.
To my father,
I know you try make up for your mistakes, but it's just so hard to love you.
To my sisters,
You bring beauty and innocence into this world.
To my brothers,
You are my complete opposites and yet you are my idols.
To my sons,
You are my strength in a world so far gone.
To my daughters,
You are the echo of your mother, whomever she may be.
To the reader,
Believe with your mind, fight with your heart, survive with your soul.
Farewell. Silver Screen Of The Mind                                                        The Silver Screen of the Mind
When I read a story it's as if my mind is teleported
To another a world class theater
The images of the description in my mind,
Resembles a movie on the silver screen:
Every character, an actor;
Every action blown out of proportion;
Every background, a new scene to be played out.
Even in my own stories, my friends become the actors, the scenery my own life.
All I have to do, is find a snack and enjoy another trip to my mind's theater. :thumb137252314: :thumb102857368: BrothersBrothers
The sun rose high, signaling the start of the battle,
To contrasting warriors faced one another
As a friend, as a rival, and as a brother
One clad in red, a burning will in his eyes
A smile of one that defies
The other a marvel of blue, his expression cool and calm
A glacial confidence, twirling his weapon in his palm
For an instance, there was nothing, except for an overbearing shadow,
When suddenly in a flash,
The two made a might clash
From the red, an echo of laughter
From the blue, anger from a different matter

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Thank you for reading!

3wyl, posting on behalf of ProjectComment