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...
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Converging Traffic Manila
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Converging Traffic in Manila poem
I am a passenger entering Manila.
The complexity of the city's carriageways and lanes is both bewildering and fascinating.
I gaze out, trying to make sense.
Through the web of intricate pathways.
The traffic is fluid; however, I experience it as chaotic.
My driver remains steadfast as vehicles converge and exit.
Intuitively understanding this dynamic system.
Balancing the collective's expectations with our personal needs.
I trust him as he orchestrates our safe path through.
Converging Traffic and Apparition in Manila
I err on the side of detecting threats in ambiguous situations.
Crossroads of the past, present and future
Convergence of Traffic and Apparition
As I sit in traffic, the air in Manila feels thick, with countless engines and people going about their day. I find myself staring out of the windshield, taking in the vibrant scene of city life. Within the chaos, I sought refuge from the uncertain situation.
Suddenly, amidst the honking and the hustle, I notice a figure. It seems almost ghostly, gliding effortlessly above the cars and people. This apparition feels like a manifestation of my anxiety and the rich history of Manila. It's as if the city's past has been woven into my present reality.
The figure appears to float gracefully, transcending into a bright future. It's as if this apparition bridges what was, what is, and what is yet to come. For a fleeting moment, I feel a deep connection to the essence of Manila, as seen through this apparition amidst the city's ever-moving pace.
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.
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The hand that holds the glamour Between the flick of a lighter and the curl of smoke lies a story told in two parts: the hand that holds the glamor, Between the flick of a lighter and the curl of smoke lies a story told in two parts: the hand that holds the glamor, and the eye that chooses to believe it. The art of the obscure and meaningless In the realm of modernist art , exemplified by Eddie's deliberate embrace of abstraction and mystery , artists have increasingly surrendered their authoritative power of intent to a veil of meaningless vagueness, compelling viewers to co-create meaning from fragmented suggestions rather than receiving a clear, directive vision. Her scalpel-wielded dissections—such as her perforated self-portraits or obscured war images—eschew explicit communication in favour of elusive hints, as she professed a desire to remain "mysterious" and avoid revelation, thereby shifting the burden of interpretation onto the audience in a pseudo-spiritual a...
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