Puppet Master The narrow, high-walled passage swallowed the sound of my boot scraping a broken cobblestone, the echo sharp in the dry air. Above, a sliver of unforgiving sunlight cut down, carving deep shadows where the damp, mossy scent of the gully was now replaced by the smell of dust and ancient stone. I paused, looking not just at my gloved hand—the leather scuffed from my descent, but at what was attached to it. Thin, nearly invisible lines, like high-tensile wires , stretched from the articulated cuff on my wrist and disappeared into the air above the path. I tracked them with my eyes until they converged on a small, stone figure standing motionless in the centre of the walkway. It was a crude marionette , barely a foot tall, carved from the same pale, cracked stone as the surrounding walls. Dressed in a simple tunic, its blank, oval face held a radiating sense of expectant waiting. Its arms were held out, palms up. I held the strings. Yet, the feeling was not one of cont...
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Lost and Gone
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Lost and Gone
Poem:
Funnelled into this tunnel
We tiptoe on an obscure path, sinking further into acceptable societal norms. Our leaders are the shining stars of opportunity, hope and desperation. We are wearing modernist chains as productivity symbols. We continually inch forward. Bound by their unspoken agendas.
The tunnel shields us from the glimmer of what could be. We carry the burden of shattered aspirations. We forgot them as the junk of continuous acquisition minced us into meta pulp. What drives our reluctance to deviate from this tunnel?
The way towards a post-capitalist society are intertwined with our innermost galaxies. Can we continue waiting for the moment we can see clearly through the fluorescent lights? Years and years? Generations and generations? Lost and gone.
Story:
Our footsteps echo in compliance on a dark path. Every person watching is a unique shadow, a beautiful and intricate figure composed of unfulfilled dreams and values. We carry chains mistaken for rhythm, our procession of self-imposed burden. The tunnel, an artificial cocoon, becomes a womb of obscurity. We are like Sisyphus, carrying the weight of unfulfilled potential, dissipating against the hard surface of routine. We have the power to step out of line, to break free from our invisible shackles. Yet we stay silent in this parade of shadows and echoes. Is it fear or comfort that holds us in this spectral dance? To break free means facing the unknown, the blinding light of possibility. But we created this tunnel, and the map of the stars is etched on its walls, waiting for us to look up.
Description:
Embark on a metaphorical journey through the 'Tunnel of Self-Reflection.' This video art piece captures the essence of walking a path paved with echoes of our choices and the silhouettes of dreams yet to be fulfilled. As you watch, consider the chains of habit and the weight of potential within us all. Are we comfortable in the darkness, or are we ready to step into the light of the unknown? Join us as we explore these profound questions in a hauntingly beautiful setting. #PathToSelfDiscovery #UnfulfilledDreams #MetaphoricalJourney
Keywords:
Metaphorical Journey, Self-Reflection, Unfulfilled Dreams, Life's Path, Philosophical Art, Echoes of Choice, Chains of Habit, Potential and Fear, Comfort in Darkness, Breaking Free, Self-Discovery, Artistic Interpretation
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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