Drifting Clouds between Hong Kong and Guangzhou When I was suspended in that atmospheric corridor between Hong Kong and Guangzhou, I was struck by how the sky felt like a turbulent yet tender expanse. I wanted my watercolour strokes to blend and blur on the paper, mimicking the ever-shifting weather patterns of the region. That is of moisture-laden clouds dissolve effortlessly into brilliant, open patches of blue. For me, this piece is an impressionistic echo of that flight. I was trying to capture that fleeting, weightless moment of looking out into a vast horizon, right when the heavens feel both endlessly deep and close enough to touch. Be Creative and Innovative with Knowledge John Bennett - AKA JJFBbennett , is an independent artist. You can view and subscribe to my work via Blogger , YouTube , Flicker , Facebook , Instagram and Deviant Art . Subscribe to JJFBbennett's private FB hub: https://www.facebook.com/share/g/18ythpSXPZ/ You can subscribe to m...
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Q Gallery
Taking Action
The Arrival
Q Street Q STOP
Fortitude Valley Lane with Rabbit
Fortitude Valley End of Lane
The Flood Gate
The Red Flood Gate
Atonement on behalf of himself and all his kindred With pigtail
Sunrise over Story Bridge From God's own country to God's country
The High Rise and the Locked Gate
Rich Art Poor Art
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In 1859 Queen Victoria granted them their own colony
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He returned with soldiers and established a temporary settlement
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They were enticed by the promise of free land grants
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The contributions made towards taming this land for the betterment of society.
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And when the Americans arrived, they had the chocolates, the ice cream, the silk stockings and the dollars.
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Our leaders demonstrated the actions of those who strive to abide by the biblical truths and to subjectively apply known half-truths.
The Art of Malaka Malaka (Rise Above 'Em) [Verse 1] Jealous cowards try to control! Mean-spirited cloth – cut from the same! Old comments rotting – fourteen years old! Doubling down – you got no shame! [Chorus] Malaka! Malaka! Special Greek word – for scum like you! Malaka! Malaka! Rise above! We're gonna rise above! Vile views – spreading hate and fear! Malaka! Malaka! We ain't taking it – no more! [Verse 2] Who’s next on the list? Indians? Greeks? Vietnamese? Women? Whose next to be cut? Major parties silent – lips sealed tight! Cowards in suits – hiding from the fight! [Chorus] Malaka! Malaka! Pauline and Cory – same rotten core! Malaka! Malaka! Ashamed? You should be ashamed! Hate, division, fear in the air! Malaka! Malaka! We’re calling it out – everywhere! [Bridge] Minorities marginalized – feeling the pain! Unheard, unrepresented – driven insane! This ain’t left or right – it’s decency! Common fucking decency! I’m angry – really bloody angry! How do you get away w...
The Struggle for Authenticity in Art I want to speak today about authenticity . And about what we quietly give up to be accepted. We’re told that contemporary political art values autonomy . That artists are free. That inquiry sits at the centre of practice. But autonomy, in reality, is often something we *perform*— not something we’re allowed to exercise. Freedom is celebrated rhetorically, while legitimacy is granted only when work conforms to approved languages , approved theories , approved causes . Autonomy isn’t denied outright. It’s curated. This system doesn’t fail artists by accident. It functions mechanically. It rewards work that aligns with predetermined frameworks and filters out work that doesn’t speak the sanctioned dialect . Many voices are excluded not because they lack skill or meaning, but because they refuse to translate their experience into institutionally legible language. I’m not saying all excluded work is good. I am saying much of it is never heard. An...
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 mome...
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