I’m definitely getting a pair these badasses this winter… that is, when and if my left arm recovers. It no longer hurts like hell every time I move, but I it’s still pretty much unusable; I basically can’t lift my hand above the head level without cringing in pain and reminding myself that was a really stupid idea. I could probably ride a bike if I kept I peaceful pace but I shudder to think what would happen if I had to make a sharp turn or I actually had another accident.

I had no idea you can actually hurt yourself that bad just by falling off a bicycle.

Cats with wheels

Another session of hardware hacking finished. Lo and behold, things in my room that have wheels and can be freely moved around:

  • a desk that serves as a mobile computer workstation (Valve-style)
  • the computer attached to it
  • a second desk that serves as a workbench
  • two coffee tables
  • a chair.

I’m fighting the urge to add wheels to everything else. Time will tell how good the idea was, but it seems a perfect solution for any kind hacker- or creative space: make rearranging things as easy as possible.


Here’s a dirty little secret of living an interesting, creative life: you must allow yourself to get bored, and then act on it.

Took me an awfully long time to figure out, but this is what’s been missing from my life for at least a year. We all seem so busy now we CAN’T STAND being bored. Here’s the killer pattern: people get together, people talk about recent stuff, people get bored because they run out of recent stuff to talk about, people part and go searching for new thrills because bored is a waste of time.

Except it isn’t.

This seems to be the only practical difference between the careless life of a young person and a serious, grown adult: the adults don’t play.

The last time I allowed myself to get genuinely bored was the previous Sunday. The result? I completely reorganized my room, adding a second desk exclusively for offline-mode crafts (drawing, etc.) and installing a photo background – something I’ve been putting off for years. All this because of a single “I’m bored, let’s do something” said to my friend.

Prague loot.

The huge 50m bulk reel did not fit in my loader; I had to manually split it into two smaller ones. There’s no question whether Fomapan 400 is any good: I bought 30 rolls worth of it, so it’s going to be my film of choice for the next six months – no matter what.


My house looks like a junkie meeting place right now – except that instead of needles and syringes there are empty cups everywhere. I did my first real studio shoot today; a friend came by and we spent the evening tuning the lighting, trying out the poses, exchanging ideas, talking about life and drinking coffee. Lots of coffee. Mix the excitement of creation with the power of caffeine and I’m feeling like a little bouncy spring right now.

The idea to build a studio in my room was born in a flash when I was terminally bored a few weeks ago and I resolved to do something crazy before the boredom actually puts me in a coma. At that moment I knew what I was going to do – and before the end of the day I ordered a white background and wall brackets.

The results are exceeding my bravest expectations. I didn’t even attach the background to the wall yet and I already got three shoots arranged for the upcoming week. Turns out I’m gonna have to borrow my friend’s professional lighting set as the IKEA lamps don’t quite cut it when it comes to color balance. Besides that, though, I’m amazed how little one actually needs to find the much needed inspiration and the space for making the ideas spring to life.

Then there’s also the story of two desks – but that’s for another time.


The news is still semi-official, but here it goes: I’ve been promoted for the CTO role at our startup Cloud Your Car.

It’s gonna be a ride. I’m taking over tons of responsibilities – which isn’t too bad, as the part I was working on until now (firmware development) is entering the maintenance phase, so I already spend a large deal of time poking on issues that need polishing. I’ll still be doing what I’ve been enjoying doing recently – except it will be official.

Am I scared? Hell yeah. I’ll undoubtedly spend this Christmas buried under tons of people management books – my soft skills REALLY need to improve – but at the same time I’m extremely excited. Even though I have no idea what I’m doing. ;)

On a related note, my friend got a job at a very cool startup in Kraków today. He’s relocating. I wouldn’t have the balls to do that. Kudos for him. Too bad there are very few dreamers like us around.

This post is dedicated to those of my friends who got married, found a well paying job and, well… stopped at that point. We’ll probably never really understand each other.

Continuous mode

Enjoying a slight photography overdose. Just like with museum visits, cramming too much in too little time results in a tremendous headache. Can’t stop nevertheless. I don’t even let the photos rest a little a bit – I just shoot, develop, scan, edit and send in one long run, almost in a blur. Already lost track of how much film I burned yesterday; something around a hundred frames over two hours. That 50 meter bulk roll won’t last long at that rate.

Actually, there’s no headache – just a feeling of pressure in my head that can be overcome easily. Most of our limits cease to be once we realize we can just bend them out of the way with our passion.


Amateur artists despise routine. They fear falling into it – for they believe that if they do, their work will become bland and all alike. The life of an amateur is full of non-routine: ups and downs, meetings and breakups, chaotic motions, spontaneous travels, unjustified and unjust relationships, mind-altering substances. The amateur holds to his lifestyle so hard it’s impossible to see where the person ends and chaos begins. His reasoning is that the chaos is the source of inspiration; that if he were to become boring, his art would cease to exist.

There’s no agreement on why this scheme gets perpetuated endlessly. What the young, naive artist does not realize is that the chaos is not a source of his inspiration, talent or genius; instead, it is the result of it. It’s the result of a seemingly uncontrollable force inside him going primal wild. This force cannot ever be extinguished – but it can be directed. With time, the amateur realizes that the very act of creating actually calms the storm. With enough wisdom and persistence, he may realize it is up to him to turn his curse into a blessing.

After years of struggle my life finally became boring. I get up every morning and head to work. I always take the same route. I have rituals for every moment of my life. Mornings. Afternoons. Work. Eating. Reading. Sleep. I do make corrections to the routine constantly, but it’s established and I no longer pay attention to it. This landscape, the background if my life, is like an empty sheet. Even though blank, it still has its texture and impurities; even though white, it still shows a distinct tint that changes with days, places and seasons.

It’s a pure pleasure to paint on such canvas.

Five years of film photography allowed me to perfect the details to the point where I no longer need to pay attention to them. The entire process comes so naturally that it’s really satisfying to step back and see just how much it takes to produce a print. Choosing and buying film, packing it into canisters with a bulk loader. Carrying the camera and some rolls in my bag all the time. Loading the camera. Setting all the dials and knobs without ever looking at them. Clicking the shutter a hundred times. Loading the developing tank. Pouring the right chemicals at the right temperature for the right time. Drying. Cutting. Scanning. Editing. Ordering prints. Picking them up. Choosing the right envelopes. Getting the addresses. Mailing.

I no longer pay attention to any part of this process. I remember all numbers by heart. I can mix developer blindfolded; I can check the temperature with my fingers. My eyes measure the exposure with 1EV accuracy in any conditions. I can tell the type of film in the camera from the tone of the whirr the winding motor makes. I can play Lightroom the way others play piano, and I’m not making this up; several people said just that. I remember the post stamp prices and size and weight limits for practically anything I’d want to send. I know my room’s white balance down to the number in Kelvins.

The process has become so transparent that I’m back to the blank slate. Except this time, with all the great clarity that comes with practice, I can finally focus on one thing that matters:

Taking the right picture.

And the best thing is: there’s nothing standing between me and that.