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The Territory of the Little People - Storm Clouds Approaching

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  The Territory of the Little People - Storm Clouds Approaching The atmosphere over Pine Creek churns before it breaks. The sky stops being a distant ceiling, and tears open into a fevered, gestural vortex, churning in fierce ribbons of cadmium gold, raw ember, and bruised ink. Here, in the suffocating stillness of the build-up, the heat plays violent tricks on my inner eye. As the squall gathers, the twisting ironwoods and fractured ridges don't feel empty; they crawl with the uncanny belief of the Little People, low-slung, watchful phantoms spun from wire, red dust, and dry static, waiting out the road's fragility. Every jagged branch and swirling filament of cloud becomes a face, an arm, a sinister presence breathing inside the rising storm, drawing the traveller deeper into the delirium of the interior. Pine Creek Storm Front Torn black filaments of wind and shadow seemed to claw straight out of the atmosphere, dripping down like hot tar, twisting through the spindly ironwo...
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Simulated Beautiful

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Beautiful requires you to ponder
Beautiful is controversial
Beautiful as described for you

Your understanding of beautiful
Not as you necessarily know it
But how you are trained by others

A collective synthesis
Connected by awe and entertainment
Rooted firmly into rigid definitions and mathematical law
Stamped by credible institutions

And it comes to this
Artist acting as error-inducing and error-correcting agents
Investigating the interest in ourselves
Investigating the recording mechanism
Then the re-run of practice until what was unknown is acceptable







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