Most recent post

My Head is in the Clouds

-
Image
  My Head is in the Clouds And when, suddenly, the cabin vanishes, I rejoice. The metal hull, the rows of seats, the quiet murmurs of the other passengers, they have all dissolved as if outside the window. My physical body is still cocooned in that cramped airline seat, but my mind has completely broken free. I’ve left the interior world behind and stepped directly out into the stratosphere . Looking at this view, it’s as if I am no longer just travelling through the sky; I am becoming a part of it. The composition is split by a blinding, brilliant horizon line of gold and white light. Like a pure, energetic tear between the heavens and the earth. Below me, the tops of the clouds stretch out like a vast, frozen ocean of soft purples and deep, oceanic blues, holding the shadows of the world below. Above, the atmosphere thins into an ethereal, pale turquoise, a quiet void that feels completely untouched by human anxieties. The fiery oranges and hot magentas that stalked me from the t...
Post a Comment

Finding Self in the Cityscape

-


 Mirrored Metropolis: Finding Self in the Cityscape

Story:
I am lost in the endless cycle of this cityscape, constantly seeing myself reflected in its modern shiny surfaces. The red traffic light blinks intermittently in a never-ending cycle, symbolising urban monotony. Taking a selfie, I see myself being captured in countless fragments, reflecting the driver, pedestrian, and street lamp. I am a quantified self, trapped in the repetitive narrative of city life. Each photo is a breadcrumb leading me back to myself. I am a loop within a loop, echoing endlessly in the digital corridors of eternity. To break free, I must acknowledge the prison of my own gaze. But for now, I remain trapped in the perpetual selfie of existence, a figure multiplied yet diminished. Just another form of content.

Description:
Dive into a visual journey where philosophy meets urban photography. "Echoes of Existence" is a series that explores the Sartrean concept of self through the medium of the selfie. Witness the seamless blend of self-awareness and city vibrancy, and join us in pondering the eternal question of existence amidst the chaotic beauty of urban life.

Keywords:
Urban Philosophy, Self-Reflection, Existentialism, Cityscape Photography, Selfie Art, Sartrean Thought, Reflective Imagery, Contemporary Art




I Am Lost in the Endless Cycle

Description:
A haunting exploration of urban alienation and the endless cycle of modern life. Lose yourself in reflective surfaces, traffic lights, and the fragmented digital self.

Keywords:
experimental music video, urban alienation, cityscape, modern life, traffic lights, selfie, fragmented self, digital identity, loop, existentialism






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. 

To support my art, feel free to donate via JJFBbennett through PayPal  

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

The Toxic Weight of Waiting

-
Image
  The Toxic Weight of Waiting The atmosphere has thickened. What was once a room defined by walls and chairs has dissolved into a toxic haze, an environmental manifestation of a mind under siege.  She no longer sits; she kneels, anchored to the floor by an invisible gravity. Above her, the "toxic air" takes shape as a looming, jagged shadow infused with high-velocity greens and burning volcanic reds. It feels less like smoke and more like a predator, a towering silhouette of anxiety that has finally outgrown the space. The colours vibrate with a sickly, chemical heat, turning the very oxygen into something thick and sharp. In this room, the silence has become deafeningly loud. The fractured light from the previous moment has bled together, creating a suffocating shroud that blurs the line between the physical world and an internal fever dream. The momentum hasn't just stalled; it has been swallowed. She has diminished, huddled in the eye of this psychic storm, a solitary ...
Read more

Waiting for inspiration

-
Image
Waiting for inspiration The air in a waiting room carries a specific kind of weight, a density that seems to swallow sound. For centuries, artists have tried to capture this heavy, invisible presence. I think of Honoré Daumier , who portrayed the slumped, weary resignation of third-class travellers. He understood that waiting wasn't just sitting; it was an endurance sport. I see that same heavy air, but my era is electrified. The figure on the left isn't just sitting; they are anchored against a storm of data. Their head is buried in their hands, face half-hidden as if they're trying to crawl inside their own mind to escape the silence. The thick, aggressive slashes of orange and gold overhead resemble a visual scream, capturing that internal chaos where your thoughts race at a hundred miles an hour while your body is stuck in a plastic chair. The green glow on their skin adds a cold, modern tension, making the whole scene feel like a pulse vibrating beneath a still surface...
Read more

The Ethereal Ascent

-
Image
  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...
Read more