JJFBbennett travels to Taiwan Navigating the Metamodern City: Reflections from Taiwan What happens when ancient culture, vertical hyper-modernity, and raw street-level life collide through a traveller's lens? In my short video series exploring Taiwan—from the rain-slicked avenues of Taipei to the summit of Taipei 101 and the quiet contemplation of Liberty Square—travel becomes more than just sightseeing. It becomes an inquiry into metamodernism, architecture, art, and the everyday rituals that anchor our lives. Get ready for some serious wanderlust! I'm diving into JJFBbennett's incredible adventures as he explored Taiwan's stunning islands. Follow along on a journey that captures everything from Taipei's bustling energy to the historic elegance of the Chiang Kai-shek Memorial. Experience the trip through a vibrant travel photo library and an exciting video playlist that brings the entire destination to life. It’s an unforgettable look at Taiwan that will hav...
A surreal psychological vision: a male pilot encased in a glowing cocoon of nanoweave, thrashing violently as violet fire erupts around him. Flames are not literal fire but energy — psychic, electric, and cosmic — exploding from behind his eyes. The background collapses into a massive black-violet anomaly with swirling tendrils and burning light.
JB's body arches against invisible restraints, veins lit with purple energy. The scene conveys primal panic, loss of control, and raw instinct. High-energy sci-fi surrealism, extreme contrast, motion blur, cinematic intensity.
Vision I: The Violet Firestorm
It begins with the vice.
First, there is only the restriction. My body recoils—a violent, kinetic rejection of this cage—but the bindings hold fast. I am a pilot. My entire existence is defined by control, by the tactile feedback of the yoke under my thumbs. But my arms are pinned ruthlessly to my ribs. I feel the phantom vibration of the thrusters humming in my nerve endings, desperate to correct the vector, to pull up, but I cannot reach them.
The panic hits my gut like a physical blow, a nausea so profound it feels like I’m turning inside out. I open my mouth to scream, to roar against the dying of the light, but the sound is trapped in my throat, a silent vibration rattling my teeth.
Then, the ice hits. The cryo-fluid floods the chamber, freezing and burning simultaneously. It triggers the oldest part of my brain—the animal cornered by fate. The walls of the pod dissolve, and suddenly, I am watching from the outside. I see the Space Tourist—tiny, fragile, insignificant—drifting helplessly into the maw of the anomaly. It opens its throat and engulfs us.
Violet fire erupts behind my eyes. It is a full assault. I respond not with logic, but with explosive, automatic violence. I thrash against the weave, my lungs burning, incinerated by the desperate, primal push against the rising tide of terror. I am burning down, and no water in the universe can extinguish me.
This artwork is protected by U.S. and International copyright laws. Distribution and/or modification of the artwork without the written permission of the sponsor is prohibited.
The Metamodern Smudge: Seeing Growth on the Frame My use of the phrase "Fingerprint on the frame" functions as a metamodernist artifact. From my perspective, metamodernism oscillates between modernist sincerity and postmodern irony, and this concept sits precisely at that intersection. It recognises that the artwork within the frame is a construction, while also valuing the human touch that created it. More than just recognition, it is the fundamental identifier. In this space, the smudge is not just an artistic signature; it is a map of personal growth. It reveals the traces of our experiences and the impact of our interactions with the world around us. The transparency of glass symbolises the invisible cultural conditions that shape our perspectives, allowing us to see through to the complex realities that influence our creativity and expression. This interplay creates a deeper understanding of both the art and the artist, acknowledging that every mark left behind tells ...
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WHAT CAN MAKE UP FOR LACK OF TALENT Does art derive its validity from the skill of the creator's hand, or from the cultural scaffolding that forces our conscious spotlight onto the object? This gallery space has thrown down a direct challenge. Dominating the centre wall, glowing in bright white neon above the shattered glass and the Campbell's Soup Can, is a raw, uncomfortable question: "WHAT CAN MAKE UP FOR LACK OF TALENT?" This neon sign acts as the ultimate cognitive mirror, forcing us to reconcile the two extremes hanging on either side of the gallery. The Postmodern Answer: Frame and Hype Look at the soup can sitting in the spotlight. Postmodernism, driven by Andy Warhol and Pop Art, gave a cynical, revolutionary answer to this neon question: Context, branding, and institutional framing make up for a lack of talent. Postmodernism declared that you don't need the masterly brushwork of the Renaissance or the sublime emotional intensity of Mark Rothko. An art...
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