I must break free Inside the pod, I arch and lash against the restraints. The hum thickens—translucent waves pressing me down. My motion meets mass. Sound becomes gravity. I hang there, suspended, until resistance teaches me stillness. 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 FB hub: https://www.facebook.com/share/g/18ythpSXPZ/ 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...
Get link
Facebook
X
Pinterest
Email
Other Apps
Seeking an Alternative Universe
Get link
Facebook
X
Pinterest
Email
Other Apps
-
Hypostyle Hall with Sleeping Dog
The air hummed with the echoes of a thousand conversations that have been forgotten.
Barcelona's Alternative Universe
I am in an immersive scene of an alternative universe. The rough texture of GaudÃ's stone sculptures beckons me to sit down and calm down.
A story of natural inspiration is whispered with each jagged and uneven surface. The sculptures are crowned with agave plants. Their sharp, thick leaves contrast against a dense canopy's soft, green backdrop. The air carries a hint of earthiness, mingled with the fresh vibrancy of the surrounding foliage, enhancing the sensory dialogue between the viewer and the environment. This interplay of textures and the organic presence of the sculptures create a tactile and visual symphony. I want to celebrate GaudÃ's masterful integration of nature into architectural form. It deepens my connection with the natural world through sensory experience.
The Golden Embrace
In the golden embrace of the afternoon, amidst the throngs of tourists, we surged in numbers upon the shores of Park Güell like the incoming tide. The air, thick with the hum of many languages, carried the collective breath of humanity, mingling it with the scent of human wanting and sacred sand and stone.
Here, beneath the blue sky, we formed patterns in the sand and threw our shadows against stone. We sought something ineffable, a whisper of the divine caught in the interstices of tile and tesserae.
We temporarily existed in a sanctuary not built by hands alone but by the fervour of a vision that saw heaven in the lines of the earth.
In the communion that formed GaudÃ’s dreams, there was a momentary kinship, a shared beat of the heart that acknowledged, though we wander as many, we seek as one.
The sacred geometry of Park Güell, surrounded by the ceaseless sea of humanity, the spirit found its echo in the curve of a column, the gleam of a broken tile, whispering that beyond the grasp of our reaching lies the beauty of the journey. On this hallowed ground, wanderers’ souls may congregate.
The Hypostyle Hall
When I stepped into the Hypostyle Hall, the calm oasis refreshed my soul.
The air was hushed; the light filtered through the forest of columns, dappled and dancing. Each pillar, a symphony of broken tiles, sang its song of colour and texture. I ran a hand along the cool, smooth surface, tracing the intricate patterns. Above, the ceiling domes, like inverted bowls of a giant's tea set, shimmered with ceramic medallions.
It was a vast and intimate oasis, a cathedral of nature reimagined by humanity. I felt dwarfed yet strangely at peace as if held in the cupped hands of some benevolent being. The air hummed with the echoes of a thousand conversations that had never been spoken, the promise that we may one day return to the world's otherness.
I felt the pulse of GaudÃ's dream: its cleverness, the whispers that breeze through the columns, and the play of light on the polished floor. It is a tribute to human imagination and the stubborn refusal to be constrained by mundane efficiencies.
Yes, magic can be found if only we step towards it.
Searching for Emotional Experiences
These sensitive light changes of the hypostyle are not merely aesthetic; they profoundly impact visitors' emotional experiences. The morning's cool shadows inspire a sense of quiet contemplation, a time for introspection and reflection. The midday brilliance evokes a sense of joy and wonder, a celebration of life's vibrant tapestry. The evening's golden glow invites a feeling of peace and serenity, a gentle embrace at the end of the day.
In the Hypostyle Hall, light is not just illumination; it is a storyteller, a conductor of emotions, and a silent partner in the unfolding human experience.
The Hypostyle Hall transcends its physical form, becoming a sanctuary for the soul. It invites visitors on a journey through the spectrum of human emotions, mirroring the natural rhythms of our inner lives. It is a place where one can find solace in the morning's quietude, embrace life's vibrancy at its zenith, and surrender to the gentle embrace of twilight. In the heart of bustling Barcelona, the Hypostyle Hall stands as a place where you can experience the enduring power of light and its ability to illuminate our surroundings and the depths of our own being.
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.
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 ...
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 ...
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...
Comments
Post a Comment