The Dr Schuster Column

I’m writing this on Blue Monday, though for David and me, it feels more like a bright Yellow Monday. Our books are thriving, David’s inspiring BBC interview aired on U.S. Inauguration Day, and I’m still energized from a holiday season spent in Austria’s wintery chill and Colombia’s sunny beaches.
You might wonder if I found myself so idle in Colombia that I started contemplating this seemingly random column title question. Not quite!
During my journey—from Vienna to London, then Miami, and finally Baru—I browsed countless bookstores. From Vienna’s bustling high street to Heathrow and Miami airports, bookstores were buzzing with life. Young people lingered, admiring artistic covers, exchanging thoughts on creativity, and using the space for social contact. Meanwhile, luxury boutiques like Prada and Burberry stood eerily empty. It made me wonder: have bookstores become the new café society, the modern hubs of creativity and conversation?
I’ve never considered myself particularly artistic. Teachers praised my writing and drawing as a child, though they didn’t extend the same praise to my piano playing or choir singing. I once thought art couldn’t provide a stable living. For exactly that reason I never considered it as a career option. Yet, as I spent years in the business world and observed art as a consumer, I came to realize art isn’t confined to galleries, stages, or museums. It’s broader than painting, sculpture, music, or theatre. Art, in its essence, is anything born from an original thought process and expressed physically or audibly.
But there is something else about art that seems difficult to describe. Something elusive. It has an effect. A unique impact. An unspoken language which may be the closest thing we have to telepathy. It inspires, intrigues, challenges. It conjures a curiosity, stimulates our imagination. Many things in fact that we are increasingly reminded are what makes our species unique. The only thinking animals on our planet.
Why does this matter? For David and me, it’s because we’ve begun questioning whether writing our books is simply a creative extension of our previous careers or a leap into the realm of art.
Reflecting on our creative process, writing feels remarkably akin to creating a painting, sculpture, ballet, or symphony. We draw inspiration, frame ideas, and imagine vivid images that we translate into words and illustrations. Through the Shey Sinope Saga, we craft messages that address some of society’s biggest questions, engaging with readers as part of the process.
Is what we do art? Perhaps not in the traditional sense. But our creative process is undoubtedly more than just a craft—it’s an intersection of thought, expression, and connection.
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