Most recent post

The art of futility

-
Image
  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...
Post a Comment

We Are Suspended In Transit

-

 


We are in Transit



Poem:

We step forward.
Each step stirs dust into the air.
The dry, shifting evening air.
The sun is neither fully risen nor a witness.
A silent guardian.
Beginnings and endings, both here and just.
At this hour.
And yet shared.
This is where time unravels.
Where place dissolves and where movement lingers without.
No words, no destination.
This is the place.

This is the sacred space.
Each step cannot ignore faith.
Where time unravels.
Where movement lingers without end.
A witness, a silent guardian.
Beginnings and endings.
Both here in the distance.
The burden we carry is more than we thought.
It is more than it is more than distance.
It's the stories waiting to be uncovered.
And the bond we strengthen along the way.

Unanswered questions.
Deferred dreams.
The hope, the hope of arrival, leads us forward.
At this threshold, we are neither lost nor found.
We walk in the in-between.
Each step whispers.
Here we are.
Here we are in the middle, in the middle and transit towards our becoming.

Description:

This is a poetic exploration of the journey of self-discovery and transformation. This evocative piece uses vivid imagery and metaphors to capture the essence of being in transit, navigating the unknown, and embracing the constant state of becoming.

Keywords:

Journey, Self-Discovery, Transformation, Transition, Becoming, Liminal Space, Inner Worlds, Metaphor, Twilight, Mountains, Courage, Hope

Trending Hashtags:

#SelfDiscovery #PersonalGrowth #Transformation #JourneyWithin #InnerPeace #Mindfulness #Inspiration #Motivation #LifeJourney #SpiritualAwakening #EmbraceChange #BePresent #InTheMoment #Twilight #Mountainscape #landscape #leadership #lost






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. 

You can subscribe to my music via YouTube Music, Spotify, iTunes, Apple Music and Soundcloud

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

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 b...
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

The art of the obscure and meaningless

-
Image
  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...
Read more