Most recent post

Beyond Windscreens: An Australian Outback Odyssey

-
Image
  Beyond Windscreens: An Australian Outback Odyssey Out here, the road is not merely a path through space. It is an unfolding encounter with an ancient, untamed continent. Every Stop Is a Story chronicles a journey into the deep furnace of the Australian antipodean. Viewed through the windscreen and reimagined through digital sketches and metaphysical reflections, the familiar highway bleeds into mythic territory: knotted gum sentinels standing firm against blinding midday glare, still billabongs reflecting cool indigo beneath smouldering night skies, and atmospheric rifts where raw heat ruptures the quiet scrub. Merging travel narrative with speculative vision, this series traces the broken arteries of transit and the enduring silence of red dirt—documenting what happens when the mechanics of travel meet the land's boundless, poetic and artistic pulse. Be Creative and Innovative with Knowledge John Bennett - AKA JJFBbennett , is an independent artist. You can view and subscr...
Post a Comment

Napkin Art - Zombie Pebbles

-

Never mind my bad breath
Welcome to my house
This place where I never did feel at home

I'm rotted by the bad news stuff
My assumptions are forever waiting 
Never did I gain the skills to control this space

It was not like this when I was young
Once I wanted to depart and escape
It looked so much fun to jump right in
But it now seems a lost cause
I'm medicated from day to night 
Walking from pillar to post

I'm rotted and want to be alone
I'm buried under a ton of grief
Hating for what I have become

Never did I care 
Never was I interested
Never was I present 

My story of loss
This life of fear and apprehension





Popular posts from this blog

Every stop is a story - Darwin to Adelaide River

-
Image
Every stop is a story - Darwin to Adelaide River The Adelaide River Rupture The storm did not break over the Adelaide River plains; rather, reality tore open along the track. To the left, the familiar Top End landscape clung fiercely to its quiet melancholy. A lone gum tree stood sentinel over the charred scrub and dry earth, its leaves catching the last bruised light of a brooding wet-season sky. In the hollow below, the old fictional homestead crouched beside the rutted dirt road, enduring the heavy stillness that always settles before the atmosphere ruptures. Then came the tear. It began not with thunder, but with an overwhelming, luminous heat that shredded the grey overcast into molten ribbons. You could feel the vortex of raw energy sweeping through radiant ambers, searing cadmium oranges, and blinding celestial whites. The vortex descended like a folded dimension brushing against the earth. Where the atmospheric rift touched the ground, the landscape blurred into fierce gestura...
Read more

The infected touching antiquity

-
Image
  The infected touching antiquity Do you feel divinity when you touch antiquity? Metamodernist art by JJFBbennett Stand before a marble relic, and you find yourself at the threshold of contact. The museum enforces detachment. Do you feel the decay and contamination your hands carry? But what happens when your flesh touches ancient stone? To reach out is an act of somatic friction. Our mortal residue, sebaceous oils and living warmth, ruptures the sterile illusion of the untainted idol. We drag the pristine monument down into the mess of human mortality. Yet, the instinct to touch is an innate longing for connection. Laying bare skin against ancient form collapses millennia, sparking a euphoric link to what came before. Touch restores, renews, and opens an otherworldly portal beyond everyday perception. Touching antiquity infects its distant divinity with our decay, but in that very transgression, it bridges the void—granting the seeker genuine transport into transcendent awe. Marks...
Read more

Discovering the terminal horizon

-
Image
  The Terminal Horizon Tourist Bus Discovering the Terminal Horizon The Long Highway Out here, the world ends not in silence, but in fire. The asphalt bleeds into cracked red earth, stretching toward a bruised horizon where the sky refuses to cool. Behind the glass, you drive chasing ghosts through a desert that forgot rain a lifetime ago. Beneath the Scorch Every road leads deeper into the furnace. Even below the surface, the rock fissures and weeps, hot steam rising through subterranean fractures where molten veins pulse in the dark, feeding an ancient, unforgiving heat. Broken Arteries What we built couldn’t hold. Rails twist into the dunes, swallowed by iron sand and wind. Bridges split down the seam, concrete splintered into raw bone, tangled rebar, and dying wires crackling into the smoke. The machines stopped; the wasteland stayed. The Last Horizon And when the road finally runs out, there is only the ash, the petrified stumps, and the quiet. You are a lone figure sitting in...
Read more