Posts

Showing posts with the label art

Most recent post

There is a Disparity in My Light: Navigating the Split Creative Consciousness

-
Image
  There is a Disparity in My Light: Navigating the Split Creative Consciousness Introduction - does metamodernism oscillate? Clarity, I've learned, doesn't guarantee a smooth landing. While the core recalibration manages our internal mechanics, we eventually have to look back out the window and confront the final destination. For many creators navigating major life transitions or complex technical boundaries, this shift introduces an unsettling inner divide. The anatomy of disparity in creative practice is the psychological friction of a split being—standing physically present in a new space while your internal pace is still trying to catch up with the velocity of your transition. When we widen our creative intent, we often slice our universe in half: balancing cold, geometric clarity on one side against the messy, vibrant residue of personal regret on the other. Rather than forcing these halves to blend, we must learn to treat this exact contrast as our personalised map. 1. Ge...
Post a Comment
Read more

Breath Through The Wait

-
Image
  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...
Post a Comment
Read more

Waiting for inspiration

-
Image
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...
Post a Comment
Read more

The Inhabited Pause

-
Image
  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...
Post a Comment
Read more

The Sputtering Fire - Physical Exhaustion

-
Image
  The Embers in the Ice The glass is cold against my cheek, a final barrier I no longer have the strength to break. My breath comes in shallow, ragged hitches, fogging the surface, blurring the world outside into a meaningless grey smear. The violet firestorm that once roared through my neural pathways is dying. I can feel it sputtering out—weak, intermittent sparks fizzling around my temples like wet fuses. The machine is winning. It's heavy, clinical blue light washes over me, drowning the last of my resistance in a tide of artificial calm. I am too tired to fight the silence anymore. I am just... drifting. 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 ,...
Post a Comment
Read more

This crushing weight

-
Image
  The Event Horizon of Regret This is no star map; this is the geography of my own collapse. I am on my knees, the obsidian floor splintering under the weight of what hovers above me. It is a sphere of pure, swirling silence—the Black Hole Mind. It breathes gravity, pulling at the seams of my flight suit, demanding I fold. I try to summon the old fire, to spark some resistance, but my anger manifests only as thin, fractured volleys of violet lightning. They strike the darkness and are instantly swallowed. I am tiny. I am insignificant. And I am being crushed by the density of everything I cannot escape. 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 , Spotif...
Post a Comment
Read more

The Art of the Damned

-
Image
  The Art of the Damned The current gallery system functions as a modern dam built right at the headwaters of artistic creation. The headwaters are the raw, bubbling springs high in the mountains—wild, uncontainable, fed by countless small tributaries of individual vision, experimentation, failure, intuition, and obsession. This is where most serious art actually begins: in studios, bedrooms, sketchbooks, late-night arguments, personal crises, and private obsessions, long before any curator or collector ever hears a name. Once a handful of major galleries, institutions, auction houses, and their allied gatekeepers (collectors, critics, fair directors, residency programs) gain decisive influence over those headwaters—deciding which artists get early solo shows, which receive press, which enter the "right" conversations, which are anointed with blue-chip representation—they effectively place the dam. From that point forward: The flow of visibility, legitimacy, money, and audien...
Post a Comment
Read more

The Art of Capital

-
Image
  The art of Capital I stand here today as an artist, yes, but first, as a laborer. And my studio? It's not a free space. It’s a nexus, a battlefield where the abstract force of constant capital meets the blunt reality of cultural control. They call it a free market. I call it a systematic monopoly over the means of production. You think canvas and paint are the means? No. Those are relics. The real infrastructure—the essential, invisible currency—is visibility, validation, and market access. A tiny, elite constellation of galleries, auction houses, and institutions holds a chokehold on these channels. They deploy their massive capital to secure their monopoly, thereby expropriating our economic autonomy. They don't just set the price; they set the very terms of cultural existence. The outcome is the proletarianization of the creator . We are forced to sell our labour power—our very souls, our insight—back into a system that ensures capitalist domination. Our creativity become...
Post a Comment
Read more

The 12 loops of Goodbye

-
Image
  The Twelve Loops of Goodbye The fluid rises. The cryo-hiss is deafening. And then... the program starts. Twelve times. The system cycles, and twelve times I see you. It starts the same. The image freezes in the dark. It’s you, BK. Or... It’s your idea. You’re wearing the rig. The goggles are locked on me. I try to say your name, but my mouth is filled with ice. I love you. God, I love you. But you don’t blink. The Neural Glitch . Something is wrong. The memory corrupts. I see " corrupted code " trying to stabilise across your face. Your eyes... behind the lenses... they twitch. Microscopically. Are you hurting? Or is that my pain rippling through the connection? A low-frequency pulse warps your skin. You look like a stranger. You look like the machine. The Shuddering Breath . This is the one that breaks me. Total stillness. Then... a faint mist forms at your mouth. Condensation beads on the goggles. I scream at you to breathe! Just breathe! But it’s slow. Irregular. It’s a ...
Post a Comment
Read more

The Shuddering Breath I Became

-
Image
   The Shuddering Breath I Became The cryo unit hisses open, and I remember my name: JB, pilot of the *Subi*. The med-techs call it “revitalisation.” My body hums with a new, raw power. Muscles knit with synthetic fibres, bones laced with carbon-filament. I feel incredible. Invincible. But in the polished chrome of the med-bay wall, my reflection is a stranger. The eyes are mine, but they glow with a faint, amber diagnostic light. The scar from the asteroid scrape is gone, replaced by skin too perfect, too seamless. They say they rebuilt me better. Stronger. To survive the long dark. But when I clench my fist, I hear a servo-whine they insist isn’t there. When I calculate a jump vector, the numbers resolve instantly in my mind, not on a screen. Is this their design? A monster of efficiency, crafted for a purpose I didn’t choose? Or is the monster the part of me that wanted this? The part that, bleeding out in my crippled cockpit, whispered *yes* to any salvation? Did I consent...
Post a Comment
Read more

Total Ego then Death

-
Image
  Total Ego then Death This is a portrait of Total Ego Death. It captures the exact moment the pilot realises he cannot reach the controls, and his psyche fragments under the pressure of the transformation. He is a faceless construct, exploding from the inside out. I am shattering, fragmenting, disintegrating... My mind is a supernova, exploding into a million shards of darkness. I am no longer a man, just a silhouette, a shadow of what once was. The panic is absolute, suffocating, consuming me. I am nothing, and everything, all at once. Time is warping, twisting, bending... I am lost in the void, forever trapped in this moment of pure terror. 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...
Post a Comment
Read more

The Metallic Bloom

-
Image
  The Metallic Bloom "It starts on the back of my tongue. A cold, sharp tang of copper... like biting down on a gun barrel. Then... it detonates. It’s not a scream—it’s a jagged, violent bloom tearing through my throat.  Shards of silver... iron... and rust. I am no longer a man... just a dark silhouette exploding into shrapnel.  The panic is absolute." The Metallic Bloom video-poem It starts on the back of my tongue. A cold, sharp tang of copper— Like biting down on a gun barrel. Then… It detonates. It isn’t a scream. It’s a jagged, violent bloom Tearing through my throat. Shards of silver. Iron. Rust. I am no longer a man— Just a dark silhouette Xxploding into shrapnel. My body isn’t mine anymore. My voice isn’t mine anymore. The panic is absolute. 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 ....
Post a Comment
Read more