JJFBbennett

  I am sealed in this capsule The transition from the static concrete of that waiting room to the pressurised cabin of this jetliner changes the entire physics of my wait. I’m no longer pacing floors or slouching into plastic seats; I've been sealed inside a capsule, and soon to be hurtling through the sky toward China. Now that I'm finally buckled in, my restlessness hasn't disappeared, but at least I’ll soon gain altitude. I look around and can see exactly how this emotional shift plays out in other lives. There is an initial sense of order and quiet relief. I see the neat rows of seats, the soft symmetry of the aisle, and the steady, reassuring presence of the flight attendant, offering the illusion of control. The ceiling washes into soft, atmospheric blues and teals. I imagine the sky outside. I can feel the collective breath of a hundred passengers all transitioning into the same forced pause. For a moment, my world feels structured, clean, and neatly aligned. I know ...

  The Ethereal Ascent The air in the room is violently still, creating a heavy pressure. She has long stopped looking at the clock, realising that time here is not a sequence but a weight. The waiting room has fractured; the mundane reality of plastic chairs and linoleum flooring splinters into a jagged, stained-glass fever dream. High-pitched frequencies of burning red and sickly blues vibrate as if hardened walls, echoing the frantic noise of a mind that has run out of distractions. Every sharp edge of colour feels like a spiritual siege, a sensory reminder that her momentum has been forcibly halted. There is no use in pacing. There is no use in resisting the authoritative hand of the "in-between." To survive this stall, she must stop fighting the current and become part of the stagnant water. She looks out, as if just awakened, and does the only thing left to recollect. She breathes. She waits. She waits for the shards to align once more. Be Creative and Innovative wit...

  The Toxic Weight of Waiting The atmosphere has thickened. What was once a room defined by walls and chairs has dissolved into a toxic haze, an environmental manifestation of a mind under siege.  She no longer sits; she kneels, anchored to the floor by an invisible gravity. Above her, the "toxic air" takes shape as a looming, jagged shadow infused with high-velocity greens and burning volcanic reds. It feels less like smoke and more like a predator, a towering silhouette of anxiety that has finally outgrown the space. The colours vibrate with a sickly, chemical heat, turning the very oxygen into something thick and sharp. In this room, the silence has become deafeningly loud. The fractured light from the previous moment has bled together, creating a suffocating shroud that blurs the line between the physical world and an internal fever dream. The momentum hasn't just stalled; it has been swallowed. She has diminished, huddled in the eye of this psychic storm, a solitary ...

  Waiting for Azrael The air in the room doesn't move; it simply presses She has long since stopped looking at the clock, realising that time here isn't a sequence, but a weight. The waiting room has fractured, the mundane reality of plastic chairs and linoleum tiling splintering into a jagged, stained-glass fever dream . High-pitched frequencies of burning red and sickly yellow vibrate against the walls, echoing the frantic noise of a mind that has run out of distractions. She pulls her legs inward and forms a tight knot, dressed in indigo and bruised purple. She tries to find a purpose in her world that refuses to stand still. Every sharp edge of colour feels like a spiritual siege , a sensory reminder that her momentum has been forcibly halted. There is no use in pacing. There is no use in resisting the authoritative hand of the "in-between." To survive this stall, she must stop fighting the current and become part of the stagnant water. She buries her face, lets t...

  I am waiting and maintaining my presence For centuries, artists have shown what it means to wait. Their works capture quiet, tense moments in which every gesture and expression suggests deep emotions just below the surface. One of my favourite artists who explored the theme of waiting is Honoré Daumier. His lithographs and paintings of third-class carriage passengers or people in court waiting rooms are especially insightful. He captures patience, exhaustion, and resignation in their faces and postures, turning waiting into a thoughtful reflection on human life. When I made my digital watercolour, I wanted to capture the feeling of waiting, just as artists before me have done. I used bright oranges and golds to create energy and contrast with the central figure, who appears deep in thought. We have to learn to inhabit the pause rather than just trying to leap over it. I think of it as staying engaged with the 'now,' even when the 'now' feels like a dead end. Instead o...

  Breath Through The Wait The heavy anticipation culminates in a complete surrender, with the oppressive weight of the wait dragging her down. She is a tightly coiled figure, her head hidden, utterly immersed in a flow of deep blues and wounded purples. Around her, the setting has shattered into a jarring, stained-glass mosaic. Shards of burning red and sickly yellow pierce through the waiting room, transforming it into a scene from a fever dream. The wait has transcended a simple social inconvenience, becoming a feeling of spiritual siege. She almost dissolves into the furniture, marked by a particular exhaustion in which all distractions have failed, forcing her into the raw, noisy silence of our own collective minds. The room's colours aren't merely decorative; they resonate like high-pitched emotional frequencies, vibrating against a body of stagnant water. You've succumbed to that awkward in-between space: the momentum of your life has stalled, leaving you with only do...

  The Waiting Room In an instant, the focus shifts from the room's external chaos to the person's internal friction as they wait. Here, the energy isn't just swirling around the figure; it’s soaking into him. He’s caught in that classic hand-to-chin pose, as a signal of a mind that has turned inward because the outside world has nothing left to offer but time. His face is a map of shadows, eyes fixed on a horizon we can’t see, illustrating that specific kind of solitude you find in a crowd. The magenta light returns, bleeding into the white of his shirt and the skin of his hands like a restless heat. It’s a visual pulse that suggests that while he looks bone-still, he’s actually vibrating with an emotional intensity. Behind him, a second figure is submerged in shadow, a reminder that waiting is a shared human sentence, yet we each serve it in our own private silos. The Waiting Room Deep Thoughts This is where the real work happens. These pauses force us to sit with our own ...

  The Silent Riot I see that same heavy air, but it’s electrified—perhaps a visual echo of cognitive resonance where the internal world and the canvas finally meet. The figure on the left isn't just sitting; they are anchored against a storm, much like BK or JB facing the vast, unpredictable reaches of the Space Tourist Chronicles. Their heads are buried in their hands, face half-hidden as if they’re trying to crawl inside their own minds to escape the silence. I stand, seemingly forever. Those thick, aggressive slashes of orange and gold overhead—it’s like a visual scream, capturing that internal riot where my thoughts are racing at a hundred miles an hour while my body is stuck in iron boots. Standing and Waiting music 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 ...

Waiting for inspiration The air in a waiting room carries a specific kind of weight, a density that seems to swallow sound. For centuries, artists have tried to capture this heavy, invisible presence. I think of Honoré Daumier , who portrayed the slumped, weary resignation of third-class travellers. He understood that waiting wasn't just sitting; it was an endurance sport. I see that same heavy air, but my era is electrified. The figure on the left isn't just sitting; they are anchored against a storm of data. Their head is buried in their hands, face half-hidden as if they're trying to crawl inside their own mind to escape the silence. The thick, aggressive slashes of orange and gold overhead resemble a visual scream, capturing that internal chaos where your thoughts race at a hundred miles an hour while your body is stuck in a plastic chair. The green glow on their skin adds a cold, modern tension, making the whole scene feel like a pulse vibrating beneath a still surface...

  The Inhabited Pause "Waiting is not merely the passage of time; it is an active, often uncomfortable internal labour." In Waiting Room Portrait, I explore the profound tension of maintaining one’s presence within the "in-between." Drawing inspiration from the quiet, heavy resignation in Honoré Daumier’s waiting rooms, this digital watercolour seeks to transform the modern waiting experience from a static period of boredom into a vivid, spiritual practice. The central figure is an anchor of introspection amidst a whirling, chaotic background of light and colour. By utilising thick, expressive brushstrokes, I’ve constructed a pose—hand to chin, face obscured—that captures the weight of self-reflection. While the figure remains grounded on a dark, solid base, the palette of searing magentas and electric purples suggests an internal landscape that is anything but silent. These "loud" colours represent the heat and tension of a mind that is fully engaged with...

  My Alien Plasma I made two digital artworks, each with a different approach. The first, Alien Plasma Neo, uses advanced digital editing to show a highly detailed energy being. The second, Plasma Alien, is a gestural painting that focuses on raw emotion. My interest in the 'energy being' theme comes from a lifelong curiosity about forces and life forms beyond what we usually see. I find energies and unseen phenomena fascinating because they represent transformation, vitality, and the mystery at the centre of my creativity. I want to explore how to visually convey inner power and life force, using both digital tools and painting techniques. I like experimenting with different tools to change an artwork. Comparing these two pieces shows how my intent shifts, much as a traditional artist might try out new media and methods. Alien Plasma Neo My first piece, Alien Plasma Neo, was all about hyper-definition and symmetry. I wanted to show this being at its highest energy, even down t...

  Drifting Clouds between Hong Kong and Guangzhou When I was suspended in that atmospheric corridor between Hong Kong and Guangzhou, I was struck by how the sky felt like a turbulent yet tender expanse. I wanted my watercolour strokes to blend and blur on the paper, mimicking the ever-shifting weather patterns of the region. That is of moisture-laden clouds dissolve effortlessly into brilliant, open patches of blue. For me, this piece is an impressionistic echo of that flight. I was trying to capture that fleeting, weightless moment of looking out into a vast horizon, right when the heavens feel both endlessly deep and close enough to touch. 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 m...