The art of monetising fear Script Politicians have long mastered the art of monetising fear, transforming societal anxieties into powerful tools for garnering votes, donations, and loyalty. By amplifying threats, whether real or exaggerated, they create a sense of urgency that compels the public to rally behind them, funding campaigns and endorsing policies that promise protection. This strategy not only secures their power but also perpetuates a cycle where fear becomes a lucrative commodity, much like how alarmist narratives drive engagement and profits in broader discourse. So why don't more contemporary artists leverage or expose this political platform, given that power and art have always been symbiotic? 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 . Subscribe to JJFBbennett's private...
Get link
Facebook
X
Pinterest
Email
Other Apps
From Statues to Sentinels
Get link
Facebook
X
Pinterest
Email
Other Apps
-
Our Sentinel
From Statues to Sentinels
Narration
You know, I never thought I’d find myself in the heart of this mega-city.
One night, wandering through a hidden park, I discovered statues that seemed to be alive.
Among the sculptures is Sir Cedric, a knight whose marble exterior shines like steel.
He believed he was the protector of this marvellous city.
The protector of threats long gone and those yet to arrive.
I had the moral purpose of showing him what the world had become; somehow, he showed me the courage to dispute it.
Together, we faced a rogue state that threatened to tear our freedom apart.
At that moment, I realized that history and the future combine to restrict our ambitions.
Sometimes, enemies come in the most unexpected forms.
With each challenge we forge ahead, there’s always room for opportunity, especially amidst chaos.
And with a new opportunity, a new leader assumes dominion.
In the heart of a mega city, amidst the bustle of 21st-century crowds, statues long forgotten stir to life. These once grand figures, now sleek, metallic sentinels, glide silently across the cityscape. Once symbols of history, they’ve become the guardians of a new age. Their mechanical limbs move harmoniously with the city’s rhythm, scanning, watching, and protecting. The past has been retooled for the present. No longer marble and bronze, they are now steel and circuit, a testament to the fusion of past grandeur with future innovation.
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.
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...
Scene 1 It smells like… time down here. Not just damp earth or rot, but something older. A primal scent that’s been waiting in the dark for a millennium. I’m recording this at the bottom of the scar somewhere in the anomaly. In my mind, it's called the Necropolis Gully . My helmet is trying to map it—casting these sterile, digital grids over the moss and the stone—but the data doesn’t make sense. It’s glitching. It’s shuddering against the reality of this place. I don't know why I'm here, looking at ruins. Just... debris. But in the ruins, I found the ghosts of a future that never happened. I was walking over shards of polymerised memories . This was once a city. It was meant to be the heart of a new world that... simply stopped. It wasn't an engineering failure. It was a failure of existence. Holding that slate, I felt this... weight. The grief of the architect. The "wounds of unbuilt dreams." I realised then that this isn't a graveyard for people. It’...
Comments
Post a Comment