Scene 1 In the cradle of copper veins, where the first byte flickered like a eucalyptus firefly against the millennial dusk of 2000, threads uncoiled—raw and unbidden, a post-punk snarl weaving through the static hum of dial-up dreams. Imagine the snare drum's ghost-crack echoing off Uluru's red flanks , not as a conquest but as a lover's bruise, blooming violet under star-pricked skin. Here, rebellion wasn't a fist raised in Canberra's marbled halls but a glitch in the grid . A Laughing Clowns howl warping the airwaves, sonic annotation—jagged guitar riffs splintering into didgeridoo drones , fading to the hiss of cooling circuits. The wire remembers: a young voice, pixels pulsing with the fury of forgotten tapes, cassette ribbons unravelling like the Murray-Darling 's parched secrets, whispering of bans that bind not bodies but bytes, burqas woven into neural lace, veils pleading for the light they obscure. Be Creative and Innovative with Knowledge Jo...
Jonus: scene 1 slide 1
Jonus works in an office. He has worked in this office for 20 years. He wants more but he doesn't know how to get more. Jonus feels anxious and threatened.
Jonus: scene 1 slide 2
Jonus would dwell on detail. The detail would observe him. For hours Jonus would stare and ponder. Stance could feel the coldness. It worried her. It took her concentration. She new things were visualizing and as they appeared to become real Jonus looked more and more dangerous. Jonus was now disappearing into himself daily. Stance could hear water, feel heat and feel weight. She knew it was anxiety. She had to take action.
Jonus: scene 1 slide 3
Into his mind did Jonus leap. His rock was safe. The river flowed strong. The flames were growing. Impending doom. Impending fear. Anxiety glassed his lungs. There was nothing to do but fall. The time is now. It was to happen. Jonus was lost from control. He needed to sleep. As long as the river flowed he could sleep. Sleep Jonus demanded of himself.
Jonus: scene 1 slide 4
Get out of my head. I want you out of my head. Sure you want to belong but I do not feel safe. There is some beauty in this fear but I still want you out of my head.
Jonus: scene 1 slide 5
Jonus felt the heat of each flame. He rested for a moment and perched within contemplation he waited for something to happen. And happening did pass him by. Jonus couldn't tell if it was an angle, spirit or memory but it knew him. In a fleeting moment the happening reflected a transcendental understanding. “You will be confronted and you will become frustrated, angry and full of hate. It will happen and you will gain control through revenge. In a short moment you will understand me and through misadventure become me.” Jonus understood a contract was made but couldn't be sure consent occurred. Motionless Jonus contemplate fate and reflected on his many missed opportunities.
Jonus and the 3 sisters
Jonus: scene 1 slide 6
And then the three sisters motioned towards Jonus. They were beautiful in threat, size and power. Veiled with petals of flame their beauty radiated. Jonus was in want. Wake up Jonus the sisters giggled. You have much to do. Your journey to enlightenment is to begin. We have waited so long for you to be with us.
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...
Situation - The Tempest’s Reflection JB , a spaceship pilot, has been placed into a cryo cocoon to revive and transform his life essence. Inside the cocoon, he experiences his mind as a "relentless tempest of clashing thoughts, swirling and churning, mirroring the furious chaos outside of the machine." JB also sees his older self trapped in the same transitory state. The Storm in my Looking Glass A cinematic close-up of JB’s face behind the curved glass of the cryo-cocoon . The glass reflects not the room but a "relentless tempest" of swirling dark clouds and lightning , symbolising his churning thoughts. In the storm's reflection, a ghostly older version of JB is visible, trapped and silent, mirroring the pilot's current state. Cryogenic Rejuvenation Chamber - Night This trapped specter is the true mirror of our pilot's current, suspended state: a mind caught between two ages, the man he was refusing to be silenced, terrified of the man he is about to ...
Chrysalis This isn’t a tomb It’s a chrysalis . We aren’t being buried We’re being rewritten. 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 my music via YouTube Music , Spotify , iTunes, Apple Music and Soundcloud To support my art, feel free to donate via JJFBbennett through PayPal If you want to acquire JJFB's art creations as an NFT - John's Opensea NFT profile is https://opensea.io/JJFBbennett Copyright This artwork is protected by U.S. and International copyright laws . Distribution and/or modification of the artwork without the written permission of the sponsor is prohibited.
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