Most recent post

The Metallic Bloom

-
Image
  The Metallic Bloom "It starts on the back of my tongue. A cold, sharp tang of copper... like biting down on a gun barrel. Then... it detonates. It’s not a scream—it’s a jagged, violent bloom tearing through my throat.  Shards of silver... iron... and rust. I am no longer a man... just a dark silhouette exploding into shrapnel.  The panic is absolute." The Metallic Bloom video-poem It starts on the back of my tongue. A cold, sharp tang of copper— Like biting down on a gun barrel. Then… It detonates. It isn’t a scream. It’s a jagged, violent bloom Tearing through my throat. Shards of silver. Iron. Rust. I am no longer a man— Just a dark silhouette Xxploding into shrapnel. My body isn’t mine anymore. My voice isn’t mine anymore. The panic is absolute. 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 ....
Post a Comment

The Cave of Leadership - From Gods to the Wheels of Chariots

-

 


"The Cave of Leadership: From Gods to the Wheels of Chariots" is a visual story that traverses time and space, spanning epochs and weaving a tapestry of interconnected experiences that may seem meaningless at first glance. But upon closer inspection, it becomes clear that our journey towards leadership is built upon the foundation of ancient tales of power, wisdom, and foresight. We have placed our trust in the divine mindset of the gods and their immortal stories that have served as a leadership guidepost for generations on generations.

As we progress, our mechanical marvels have become symbols of human ingenuity and the unyielding desire for continuous progress. The wheels of our machines, fashioned in the likeness of the wheels of time, keep turning and propelling us towards new opportunities. Like spectral figures, we stand tall on slender platforms, driven forward by an unseen divine force. We are frail yet resilient, tenacious in our pursuit of conquest, and determined to transcend boundaries.

But what are the Leader's obligations to those who suffer in the face of adversity created by divine-driven opportunity? Those who silently scream, weep, and cry out for help? As the evolution of leadership remains transfixed on godlike guidance coupled with the relentless march of progress, it is up to us to embody the indomitable spirit of humanity and fasten on a relentless quest for equity. Only then can we indeed call ourselves leaders in the fullest sense of the word!









John Bennett - AKA JJFBbennett, is an independent artist. You can subscribe to JJFB's work via Blogger, YouTube, Flicker, Facebook, Instagram and Deviant Art. 

If you want to support his art creation, you can sponsor JJFBbennett through PayPal or a subscription via Patreon here.

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 written permission of the sponsor is prohibited.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Vision 3 - A Psycho-Mythic Descent

-
Image
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 ...
Read more

The art of authenticity

-
Image
  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...
Read more

Vision 2 - The Unbearable Truth

-
Image
  The Situation - Red Alert JB , a middle-aged mail spaceship pilot . Starship piloting JB is held not by ropes, but by the cryo-unit's nanoweave swaddle —a tight, absolute embrace mimicking paranoiac wrappings. This material presses against him, preventing his shivering flesh from flying apart under the centrifugal force of his panic. He feels a cold burn and constant helplessness sinking in. His anxiety is a crimson klaxon , a "relentless tempest" of warring thoughts. He is mentally back in the cockpit, but the instruments scream in an alien language; every light and warning signifies impending failure. His pure instinct screams ABORT , yet there is no escape route. Confrontation Rising JB is shown the war of impulses tearing him apart—the "lunge and the retreat". His existence is reduced to the strained gasp: "I live for fucks sake, I don't know.” Full Assault a Violet Firestorm JB responds with explosive, automatic violence, his lungs burning from ...
Read more