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The art of futility

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  Creation doesn’t save. Art stabilises. That’s why art continues after belief has died. Not because it promises something— But because consciousness cannot stop itself. The will to create isn’t heroic. It’s involuntary. A reflex. The art of futility A spoken monologue I don’t make art because it matters. I make it because consciousness produces excess. And excess demands release. That’s the first lie we’re taught—that art points toward truth. Truth doesn’t need us. It existed before our gestures and will remain after our silence. Art isn’t revelation. It’s a regulation. An overdeveloped mind can’t remain idle. Thought accumulates. Pressure builds. Expression becomes a discharge—not a message. This isn’t noble. It’s biological. Paintings. Texts. Sounds. Images. All variations of the same maneuver. Not transcendence . Containment . Once you see this, ambition collapses. Influence. Legacy. Relevance. These are metaphysical debts art can no longer pay. The work is finished the moment...
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JJFBbennett.xverse

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Project Creating the JJFBbennett.x metaverse. My world that is beyond Connected with yours Being and sharing Interconnected Chaotic manifestations Without reasons to exist Not as a useful commodity As an elite private space Educated and interconnected Unwelcoming to most A room of unlearning behaviors Learning how to be idle and to self-engage To self-civilize In our world  When you could once have an original thought Despite the technical limitation and cost We banded together to will an intention Knowing there were no spiritual differences between x and y We knew we could exist In proposition and virtue Within the earth, and the heavens Where moments can eternalize Where the cosmos appropriates The golden house Celestial and practical From the ancients Metal, glass, and precious stone From the traditions that altered time Revered and technically accomplished Shaping all internal forces Both living and dead. Early in twenty twenty-two. Come look at this. On the edge of your seat. ...
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