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Obsidian static the puppet master

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  Obsidian static, the puppet master. (Verse 1) The crevice opens like a silent, dusty lung Air thick with minerals and a thousand forgotten years I'm rappelling down the sheer black into a chasm's memory My boots crunch on shattered polymer No sound but the suit's respiration But the stillness is a stage The jagged walls, they lean in now (Refrain) The Paraknowing a cold spike of dread at the base of the skull It’s not a thought, it’s a wave Static buzz. Who's the puppet and who is the master? High-tensile wires disappear into the light The tightening the silent pull above the gully (Verse 2) The godly face, brittle stone work It emerges, eyes blank and unseeing But it broadcasts a sharp spike of loss and profound love My logic stutters, snagging on the input An effigy , a sentinel or just a mirror I turn and see the audience waiting Small, white figures, balanced stone totems They are all part of it (Verse 3) The strings pass through my wrist Not from me, but through...
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Artist Statement Threat and Aesthetics

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The easiest way to enable change is to substantiate it with a threat. Politicians use threats to win elections and to ward off scrutiny. Leadership employs threats to make a structural change, and to build allegiance against a common enemy. Workers live under the threat of wage loss and increasing financial debt. Artists make aesthetic decisions under the threat of poverty.









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