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The Ethereal Ascent

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  The Ethereal Ascent The air in the room is violently still, creating a heavy pressure. She has long stopped looking at the clock, realising that time here is not a sequence but a weight. The waiting room has fractured; the mundane reality of plastic chairs and linoleum flooring splinters into a jagged, stained-glass fever dream. High-pitched frequencies of burning red and sickly blues vibrate as if hardened walls, echoing the frantic noise of a mind that has run out of distractions. Every sharp edge of colour feels like a spiritual siege, a sensory reminder that her momentum has been forcibly halted. There is no use in pacing. There is no use in resisting the authoritative hand of the "in-between." To survive this stall, she must stop fighting the current and become part of the stagnant water. She looks out, as if just awakened, and does the only thing left to recollect. She breathes. She waits. She waits for the shards to align once more. Be Creative and Innovative wit...
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My favourite image of the Week 004

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Breakfast piece
Herbert Badham1936

https://www.google.com/culturalinstitute/beta/asset/CAEJGudB0BW5Lw


There are multiple reference points
There are multiple perspectives
I am on the ladder
I am against the ceiling
I am standing in authority
I am not sitting with her
I am not with her
I must continually juxtapose

Within this disorientation, the arrangement is seemingly orderly
The painter, the authoritative who cannot decide
The seated lost within time and place
The pawn as the egg waiting on removal
Should I be more concerned with the flowers precarious standing on edge
Or the sense of a contained cell-like melancholy
A draughtsman at loss with the within presence






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